Daf Ditty Chagigah 17: Beit Shammai, Beit Hillel

1
MISHNA: Beit Shammai say: One may bring peace-offerings on a Festival because both the
owners and the priests partake of them, but one may not place his hands on them, on the peace-
offerings before sacrificing them. However, one may not bring burnt-offerings at all because
they are not eaten, and labor is permitted on Festivals only for the sake of preparing food for
humans. And Beit Hillel say: One may bring peace-offerings and also burnt-offerings, and
one places his hands on both of them.

If the festival of Shavuot occurs on the eve of Shabbat, Beit Shammai say: The day of
slaughter is after Shabbat, on Sunday. This is the day on which the animals brought in honor of
the pilgrim Festival are slaughtered, since they maintain that the Festival burnt-offering is not
sacrificed on the Festival day itself but on the following day, and all burnt-offerings vowed by
individuals are postponed to the following day. And Beit Hillel say: The day of slaughter is not
after Shabbat. Since the slaughter may be performed on the Festival day itself, it is unnecessary
to postpone it. But they concede that if Shavuot occurs on Shabbat, the day of slaughter is after
Shabbat.

The mishna relates that when the day of slaughter was on a Sunday, the High Priest would not
dress in his festive garments but would wear his regular clothing. And all were permitted to
eulogize and fast on this day. This was done in order not to uphold and reinforce the opinion of
the Sadducees, who would say: Shavuot must always occur after Shabbat. As the day of
slaughter was on Sunday, it was necessary to demonstrate that we do not accept the view of the
Sadducees, and that the day is not a Festival.

Summary

2
Introduction1

In this mishnah Bet Shammai and Bet Hillel debate which sacrifices may be brought on Yom Tov
and whether it is permitted to lay hands on them. The second of these debates is the same as the
debate in yesterday’s mishnah.

Bet Shammai say: They may bring thanksgiving offerings [on Yom Tov] but they may not lay
their hands on them, and [they may not bring] wholly burnt-offerings. And Bet Hillel say: They
may bring thanksgiving offerings and wholly burnt-offerings and lay their hands on them.

The debate here is over two subjects. 1) Can wholly burnt-offerings be brought on Yom Tov? 2)
When a sacrifice is brought on Yom Tov, do they lay their hands on the sacrifice as is usually
mandated with sacrifices?

Bet Shammai states that wholly burnt-offerings cannot be brought on Yom Tov at all since they
are not eaten. The Torah permits preparing food on Yom Tov (see Tractate Betzah) but since
wholly-burnt offerings are not food, they may not be prepared on Yom Tov. The wholly burnt
offering which must be brought on account of the festival (re’eyah) should be sacrificed during
the festival week.

Bet Hillel allows the bringing of wholly burnt offerings because they hold that any work that is
permitted when it is done in the preparation of food is also permitted when it is done for other
reasons.

Bet Shammai rules as did their eponymous leader in the previous mishnah, that it is forbidden to
lay hands on the sacrificial animal on Yom Tov because that is considered to be making the animal
work. Bet Hillel allows this, reasoning that if the sacrifice is allowed, all of the acts that accompany
the sacrifice are also allowed.

Rav Avrohom Adler writes:

The Mishna states: Bais Shammai maintains that one can bring a shelamim offering on the festival
because eating from the shelamim is deemed to be a necessity on the festival, but one cannot
perform semichah, leaning on the animal. Bais Shammai further maintains that one cannot even
offer an olah on the festival (because it is completely burned and does not provide food for people),
whereas Bais Hillel maintains that one can offer shelamim and olos on the festival and one can
perform semichah on the animal.

Bais Hillel reasons that since one can offer the animals on the festival, the Chachamim did not
institute a prohibition regarding performing semichah. If Shavuos falls out on a Friday, Bais
Shammai maintains that the Day of Slaughter (for the shalmei chagigah (Rashi in the name of the

1
https://www.sefaria.org/Chagigah.17a?ven=William_Davidson_Edition_-_English&vhe=William_Davidson_Edition_-
_Vocalized_Aramaic&lang=bi&p2=Mishnah_Chagigah.2.3&ven2=William_Davidson_Edition_-
_English&vhe2=Torat_Emet_357&lang2=bi&w2=English%20Explanation%20of%20Mishnah&lang3=en

3
Yerushalmi) and the olas re’iyah, which cannot be offered on the festival or on Shabbos) will be
on Sunday (even though it is not Shavuos).

Bais Hillel says: There is no Day of Slaughter in this instance (because the korbanos can be offered
on Shavuos). They agree that if Shavuos falls out on Shabbos; the Day of Slaughter will be on
Sunday. On the Day of Slaughter, the Kohen Gadol does not dress in his nice clothes (indicating
that it is not a festival) and it is permitted to eulogize and fast on this day in order to counter the
opinion of the Sadducees, who claimed that Shavuos is always on a Sunday.

Rabbi Elozar said in the name of Rabbi Oshaya: One is obligated to bring a shalmei chagigah and
an olas re’iyah on the first day of Shavuos (similar to the other festivals). There is a seven-day
compensation period for anyone who did not offer these korbanos on Shavuos. He derives this
halacha from the fact that the Torah compares the Festival of Shavuos to the Festival of Matzos;
just as the Festival of Matzos has a seven-day compensation period for its festival offerings, so too
the Festival of Shavuos will have a seven-day compensation period (even though it is no longer
Shavuos) for its offerings.

The Gemora asks: Perhaps Shavuos should be compared to the Festival of Sukkos, which has an
eight-day compensation period for its offerings? The Gemora answers: Shemini Atzeres (the last
day of Sukkos) is an independent festival and not considered part of Sukkos; therefore Sukkos
only has a seven-day compensation period, as well. The Gemora asks: Shemini Atzeres is regarded
as an independent festival only in regard to six halachos: One distinction is that it has its own
arrangement of sacrificial offerings.

In addition, the songs that the Leviim sang were not from the same category of songs that were
sung on Sukkos. Another distinction is that the text of the Shemoneh Esrei that is recited on
Shemini Atzeres is different that the text that is recited on Sukkos. One recites the shehechiyonu
blessing on Shemini Atzeres but not on the seventh day of Pesach. However, it is considered part
of the Festival of Sukkos in regard to being part of the compensation period for the offerings of
Sukkos? This is proven from the Mishna cited above.

One who did not offer the korban on the first day of the festival may bring it on any day during
the festival, including Shemini Atzeres. The Gemora answers: We would rather learn from the
smaller amount (seven days of compensation from Pesach) than the larger amount (eight days of
compensation from Sukkos). This is based upon the following principle: If you seize the larger
amount you will not be able to grasp it, but if you seize the smaller amount you will be able to
grasp it. (The logic behind this principle is that if one is faced with a choice of two numbers and
is in doubt which to choose, choosing the smaller number is always preferable, regardless of which
of the two numbers was actually the correct one (because included in the larger number is the
smaller one). On the other hand, if the larger number is chosen, and the smaller one was the correct
one, then an error will be made because the smaller number does not include the larger one. –
Kollel Iyun Hadaf).

The Gemora asks: What is derived from the fact that the Torah compares the Festival of Sukkos
to the Festival of Matzos? The Gemora answers: This teaches us that there is an obligation to
remain in Yerushalayim overnight after the offering of the sacrifice on the first day of Sukkos. The

4
Torah states this halacha regarding the first day of Pesach and we derive that this halacha applies
to Sukkos, as well.

The Gemora states that the dispute between Bais Shammai and Bais Hillel regarding the
permissibility of offering the sacrifices on Shavuos applies whether Shavuos falls out on a Friday,
and there is no opportunity to bring the korbanos on the following day either (since it is Shabbos)
or whether Shavuos falls out during any of the other weekdays. (17b) The Gemora cites another
source teaching that Shavuos has a seven-day compensation period for anyone that didn’t bring
the korban on the first day.

Rabbah bar Shmuel taught a braisa that states the following: The Torah stated that one should
count days and sanctify Rosh Chodesh and it is written in the Torah to count days and sanctify
Shavuos. Just as Rosh Chodesh is sanctified for the same amount of time as the unit by which it is
counted (one day), so too Shavuos in sanctified for the same amount of time that it is counted by
(a week). This teaches us that if one did not bring the korban on Shavuos, he has another six days
to compensate.

The Gemora asks on this that we count days to Shavuos as well and therefore its sanctity should
be only one day and not seven. Rava answers that there is an obligation to count days and weeks
to Shavuos and therefore we can learn that there is a seven-day compensation period. Furthermore,
the Torah explicitly refers to the festival as Shavuos, meaning ‘weeks.’

SHMINI ATZERES – INDEPENDENT FESTIVAL OR NOT?

The Beis Yosef (Y"D 120:20) cites a Yerushalmi in Nedarim: Rabbi Yochanan says: One who
makes an oath against drinking wine on the "Chag," is prohibited from drinking wine on Sukkos,
including Shmini Atzeres. The Beis Yosef writes that even though Shmini Atzeres is a festival by
itself; that is only in respect to the six laws delineated in the Gemora, however in regard to the
manner in which people speak, it is included in the festival of Sukkos, and the laws of vows are
based on the way people speak. The Meiri comments: Shmini Atzeres is only included in his vow
if he just said "Chag," however if he explicitly said "Chag HaSukkos," Shmini Atzeres will not be
included in his vow. Proof is brought from here to one who mistakenly said "Chag HaSukkos" in
Shemoneh Esrei instead of "Shmini Atzeres"; he has not fulfilled his obligation and must recite
Shemoneh Esrei again.

The Turei Even (Megillah 5a) disagrees and he states that one who mistakenly said "Chag
HaSukkos" in Shemoneh Esrei instead of "Shmini Atzeres" would not be required to repeat
Shemoneh Esrei. His proof is from our Gemora which states that Shmini Atzeres is considered
part of the compensation period for the korbanos of the first day of Sukkos. Furthermore, one who
vows to bring a korban has three festivals to bring it before he will have transgressed the
prohibition against delaying. If the third festival is Sukkos, he will not violate this prohibition until
after Shmini Atzeres.

5
The Nishmas Adam rules that even though Shmini Atzeres is an independent festival, it is
nevertheless related to Sukkos by the fact that one still eats in the sukkah and therefore one who
mistakenly said "Chag HaSukkos" in Shemoneh Esrei instead of "Shmini Atzeres" would not be
required to repeat Shemoneh Esrei.

RABBINIC MITZVAH OF SEFIRAS HAOMER

Tosfos states that after the counting of the omer, one should say the following tefillah: Should be
the will of Hashem that the Beis Hamikdosh should be rebuilt. This is recited because the mitzvah
nowadays is rabbinic and serves to commemorate the biblical mitzvah in the times when the Beis
Hamikdosh was in existence. Tosfos asks: What is the difference between the mitzva of sefiras
haomer and the mitzvos of sounding the shofar and taking a lulav which is also only rabbinic
nowadays and this additional tefillah is not recited? He answers: The mitzvah of sefiras haomer is
merely a reminder of the Beis Hamikdosh and the other mitzvos involve an action. The distinction
is extremely ambiguous, and the commentators struggle to explain the difference. The Gemora in
Menochos (66a) says: Ameimar would count days and not weeks. He said: The mitzvah of
counting the omer is only to commemorate the Beis Hamikdosh.

The Brisker Rov explains: The rabbinic mitzvah of sefiras haomer is different than other rabbinic
mitzvos. A regular rabbinic mitzvah, such as eating marror on Pesach, is the identical mitzvah
nowadays as was in the times of the Beis Hamikdosh. The only difference is that then it was
biblical and now it is only rabbinic. Sefiras haomer is different. The purpose of the mitzvah mitzva
of counting the omer nowadays was not for the counting, but rather it was established to
commemorate the Beis Hamikdosh. The mitzvah nowadays is not the same mitzvah as it was then.
This is why Ameimar maintains that in the times of the Beis Hamikdosh, they counted days and
weeks and nowadays, we only count the days. According to this, he explains the Ba’al Hamaor at
the end of Pesachim.

The Ba’al Hamaor says that we do not recite a shehechiyonu on sefiras haomer like we do by other
mitzvos because it is only a mitzvah of remembering the Beis Hamikdosh. Shehechiyonu is recited
at a time of joy, and it would not be appropriate to recite it when we are recalling the tragedy of
the destruction of the Beis Hamikdosh and the present exile. By other rabbinical mitzvos, a
shehechiyonu is recited because the purpose of the mitzvah was for the sake of the mitzvah and
not to remind us of the destruction of the Beis Hamikdosh. This is the explanation of Tosfos. The
special tefillah of requesting the building of the Beis Hamikdosh is exclusively reserved for the
mitzvah of sefiras haomer, which was only instituted to commemorate the Beis Hamikdosh.

BRINGING THE KORBAN CHAGIGAH ON YOM TOV

Rav Mordechai Kornfeld writes:2

In the Mishnah, Beis Shamai and Beis Hillel disagree about a case in which Shavuos occurs on
Erev Shabbos. According to Beis Shamai, the Yom Tavo'ach (the day of bringing the Korban) is

2
https://www.dafyomi.co.il/chagigah/insites/cg-dt-017.htm

6
on neither Erev Shabbos nor Shabbos, but after Shabbos (on Sunday). According to Beis Hillel, it
is not necessary to have a separate Yom Tavo'ach, because all of the Korbanos for Shavuos may
be offered on Yom Tov (Erev Shabbos) itself. The Mishnah then states that everyone agrees that
when Shavuos occurs on Shabbos, the Yom Tavo'ach is on Sunday (since the Korbanos of the
Yom Tov may not be offered on Shabbos).

Why does Beis Shamai rule that when Shavuos is on Erev Shabbos, the Yom Tavo'ach is on
Sunday? Apparently, Beis Shamai is consistent with his opinion in the beginning of the Mishnah
where he says that offering Korbenos Olos -- even the Olos of the festival -- on Yom Tov is
prohibited. Beis Hillel disagrees and says that Olos may be offered on Yom Tov.

RASHI (DH Yom Tavo'ach), however, describes Beis Shamai's Yom Tavo'ach as "the day of
offering the Korbenos Re'iyah and Chagigah of Yom Tov." (This is also the way RABEINU
AVRAHAM MIN HA'HAR explains the words "Yom Tavo'ach.") Why, though, does Beis
Shamai require a Yom Tavo'ach for the Korban Chagigah, which is a Korban Shelamim? Beis
Shamai explicitly permits offering Shelamim on Yom Tov!

It is not logical to suggest that, according to Rashi, Beis Shamai permits offering the
Shalmei Simchah on Yom Tov but not the Shalmei Chagigah. The Shalmei Chagigah is more of
an obligation than the Shalmei Simchah, since the Chagigah must be brought from Chulin while
the Shalmei Simchah may be brought from animals which one is already obligated to offer as a
Korban (Nedarim, Nedavos, Ma'aser, etc.; see 7b) or from a Korban brought the day before Yom
Tov (Pesachim 71a)! The only obligation of Shalmei Simchah is to eat the meat of a Korban; there
is no obligation to offer a Korban specifically for that purpose (see Insights to Chagigah 8:1). Why
should one be permitted to offer the Shalmei Simchah on Yom Tov?

Moreover, the Gemara in Beitzah (19a) and Megilah (5a) explicitly states that Beis
Shamai permits offering Shalmei Chagigah on Yom Tov, as he derives from the verse,
"v'Chagosem Chag la'Hashem" (Vayikra 23:41). Why, then, does Rashi write that Beis Shamai
prohibits offering the Korban Chagigah on Yom Tov? (TOSFOS, DH Yom Tavo'ach)

(a) The SI'ACH YITZCHAK suggests that Beis Shamai says that the Chagigah is deferred until
Sunday only when Yom Tov occurs on Friday; Beis Shamai requires that the Olah and Chagigah
be offered either on the same day or on consecutive days. When Yom Tov occurs on any other
weekday, the Chagigah is offered on Yom Tov and the Olah is offered the next day (on Chol
ha'Mo'ed, or on the day after Shavuos). When Yom Tov is on Erev Shabbos and the Olah will not
be offered until Sunday (two days after the Chagigah was offered), then the Chagigah is also
deferred until Sunday.

Similarly, the CHAFETZ CHAIM (in ZEVACH TODAH) answers that Beis Shamai agrees that
mid'Oraisa one is permitted to offer a Korban Chagigah on Yom Tov. This is the intent of the
beginning of the Mishnah here (and of the Gemara in Beitzah and Megilah) which says that Beis
Shamai permits Shalmei Chagigah to be offered on Yom Tov. When the Mishnah quotes Beis
Shamai who says that the Yom Tavo'ach is after Shabbos, it means that the Rabanan decreed that
one should not offer the Chagigah on a day other than the day on which he offers the Olas Re'iyah,

7
as a safeguard to ensure that the Chagigah is not offered on Yom Tov even when Shavuos occurs
on Shabbos (when offering the Chagigah is prohibited mid'Oraisa). (See
the NETZIV in MEROMEI SADEH for another approach.)

The problem with these approaches is that they do not address the source from which Rashi derives
these novel laws. What motivates Rashi to explain Beis Shamai's opinion in such a novel way?
RAV YITZCHAK ISAAC CHAVER and other Acharonim explain that perhaps Rashi's source
is an inference from the phrase, "Yom Tavo'ach" -- "the Day of Offering [the Korbanos]," which
implies that all Korbanos of Yom Tov are brought on that day, including the Chagigah.

The Si'ach Yitzchak challenges this suggestion. The Gemara later (17b) asks that Beis Shamai
already states in the beginning of the Mishnah that one may not offer a Korban on Yom Tov; why
does he repeat himself in the case of Shavuos that falls on Friday? If Rashi is correct that even the
Chagigah is offered after Shabbos on the Yom Tavo'ach, then what is the Gemara's question? The
reason why Beis Shamai repeats his opinion in the case of Shavuos that falls on Friday is obvious:
he teaches a very important Chidush -- that in certain cases even the Chagigah may not be offered
on Yom Tov.

(b) TOSFOS answers that Rashi's source may be the Yerushalmi here and the Tosefta (2:5) which
record the reasons for the dispute between Beis Shamai and Beis Hillel. Beis Hillel maintains that
all of the Korbanos of the festival may be offered on Yom Tov because they are Korbanos which
have a "Zeman Kavu'a," a set time, and their time will pass if they are not offered at the first
available opportunity. Nedarim and Nedavos, in contrast, may not be offered on Yom Tov because
they have no set time at which they must be offered. Beis Shamai responds that the Korban
Chagigah is also considered a Korban which has no set time because it may be offered on any of
the days of Chol ha'Mo'ed. Beis Hillel responds that the Chagigah does have a set time; it must be
offered during the festival and not afterwards, while Nedarim may be offered any time of year.

From the Yerushalmi and Tosefta it seems that Beis Shamai prohibits offering the Chagigah on
Yom Tov, as Rashi here says. (It should be noted that the Gemara in Beitzah (20b) quotes this
Tosefta but replaces the word "Chagigah" with the words "Olas Re'iyah." According to that version
of the Tosefta, there is no support for Rashi from the Tosefta.)

This answer is problematic, because the beginning of the Mishnah (and Tosefta) says that Beis
Shamai permits offering Shelamim on Yom Tov, which must refer to Shalmei Chagigah (as
mentioned above, based on logic, and based on the Gemara in Beitzah and Megilah).

RAV YITZCHAK ISAAC CHAVER suggests that Beis Shamai prohibits offering Shalmei
Chagigah only on the Yom Tov of Shavuos. On the other festivals (Pesach and Sukos), which have
a second Yom Tov at the end of seven days, Beis Shamai must permit offering the Chagigah on
Yom Tov because it cannot be deferred to a later day (because the festival ends on the second day
of Yom Tov). Since Beis Shamai permits offering the Chagigah on the second Yom Tov of Pesach
and Sukos (because on that day it is a Korban with a set time which cannot be delayed), they also
permit offering the Chagigah on the first Yom Tov. On Shavuos, however, there is no second day
of Yom Tov. Since there is no day of Yom Tov which the Chagigah overrides, it does not override
the Yom Tov of Shavuos at all.

8
(c) Perhaps an entirely new explanation for the words of Rashi may be proposed. Rashi certainly
agrees that Beis Shamai permits offering the Korban Chagigah on Yom Tov. What, then, does
Rashi mean when he says that the Yom Tavo'ach is for the Korban Chagigah as well?

The answer is that these words of Rashi (DH Yom Tavo'ach) are out of place. They belong after
the following comment of Rashi (DH Ein Lah Yom Tavo'ach). These words of Rashi do not refer
to the case of Shavuos that occurs on Friday, but rather they refer to the following case in the
Mishnah, the case of Shavuos that occurs on Shabbos. In such a case, both Beis Shamai and Beis
Hillel agree that the Yom Tavo'ach is on Sunday. The Yom Tavo'ach is indeed for all of the
Korbanos, including the Chagigah, since those Korbanos could not be offered on Shabbos.
(CHAGEI DAVID; see HAGAHOS HA'BACH on 18a, who points out that there are a number
of comments of Rashi there which are out of place.)

With regard to the Yerushalmi and the Tosefta, many Acharonim point out that it is clear from the
words later in the Yerushalmi and from the Tosefta itself that Beis Shamai permits offering
Shalmei Chagigah on Yom Tov. When the Yerushalmi and Tosefta mention the word "Chagigah"
in the dispute between Beis Shamai and Beis Hillel, it actually means the Olas Re'iyah (it calls the
Re'iyah "Chagigah" because the Re'iyah is also a Korban offered on the festival, the "Chag").
Accordingly, when the Gemara in Beitzah quotes the Tosefta, it replaces the word "Chagigah"
with the more accurate term, "Olas Re'iyah." (HAGAHOS RAV YITZCHAK ISAAC
CHAVER)

However, this explanation -- that the comments of Rashi are out of place -- is difficult in light of
the last words of Rashi's comment here. Rashi continues and says that the Yom Tavo'ach of the
Re'iyah and Chagigah is after Shabbos because those Korbanos "may not be offered on Yom Tov
or Shabbos." If Rashi is discussing the case of Shavuos that occurs on Shabbos, then why does he
say that these Korbanos "may not be offered on Yom Tov"? That fact is not only irrelevant to this
case, but it is also incorrect! It must be that Rashi is discussing an ordinary Yom Tov of Shavuos
which does not occur on Shabbos, and yet he still says that neither the Re'iyah nor the
Chagigah may be offered on Yom Tov.

(It is interesting to note that Rabeinu Avraham Min ha'Har omits these words of Rashi as well as
the entire comment of Rashi that follows. Accordingly, none of Rashi's comments are out of order,
and the approach suggested here remains valid.)

The answer to this question may be that the comment of Rashi here lacks a punctuation mark.
Rashi's comment (in DH Yom Tavo'ach) actually ends with the words, "... Shel Yom Tov." The
following words, "l'Achar ha'Shabbos...," begin a new comment of Rashi and belong before Rashi's
comments in DH Yom Tavo'ach. His words "l'Achar ha'Shabbos..." refer back to the case of
Shavuos that occurs on Friday (in our texts, the Mishnah there reads "Achar ha'Shabbos," but
Rashi's Girsa was "l'Achar ha'Shabbos" like the Girsa of the manuscripts quoted by
the DIKDUKEI SOFRIM).

Thus, even according to Rashi, everyone agrees that the Shalmei Chagigah may be offered on Yom
Tov.

9
Steinzaltz (OBM) writes:3

In the Mishnah on our daf, Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel disagree about whether various
sacrifices can be brought on Yom Tov. According to Bet Shammai, a korban olah, which is totally
burned up, cannot be brought. A korban shelamim, however, can be brought, since parts of it will
be eaten by the kohanim and by the owner, making it not only a sacrifice, but also food preparation,
which is permitted on Yom Tov. Nevertheless, they forbid performing semikha on the animal. Bet
Hillel permit both olot and shelamim to be brought since they are connected to the holiday, even
though there is no obligation to bring them on the actual Yom Tov. They also permit semikha on
both.

The holiday of Shavuot presents a particular problem for Bet Shammai; because it is a one-day
holiday, the opportunities for bringing sacrifices are rather limited. According to the Mishnah,
if Shavuot falls out on a Friday, Bet Shammai would allow the sacrifices to be brought on Sunday,
since they cannot be brought either on Yom Tov or on Shabbat (according to Bet Hillel the extra
day is unnecessary, since the korbanot – sacrifices – should have been brought on Yom Tov itself).
All are in agreement, however, that if Shavuot coincides with Shabbat, it will be necessary to bring
the korbanot on Sunday. Nevertheless, certain things are done to ensure that everyone will
recognize that Sunday is not truly a holiday (e.g. the kohen gadol wears his everyday clothing, and
fasts and eulogies are permitted). This is done in order to emphasize that Shavuot does not
necessarily fall out on Sunday.

The issue that the Mishnah has with Shavuot and Sundays stems from the position of one of
the Second Temple period sects. The Baitusim rejected the traditions of the Sages and interpreted
the pasuk in Vayikra (23:15) to mean that the counting of the Omer always begins on Saturday
night during Pesach, so Shavuot would always fall on Sunday. Although the Baitusim were a
minority, they were apparently wealthy and influential and attempted various methods to arrange
for their position to be accepted. It was therefore important to the Sages to do everything in their
power to make sure that no one thought that their interpretation was correct.

The Mishnah taught that if Shavuos falls out on Shabbos, Beis Hillel and Beis Shammai all agree
that the offerings for the Yom Tov are to be brought on Sunday.4

This day is not actually Shavuos, but it serves as a day of ‫ תשלומים‬,when the offerings of the festival
are brought instead of on Shabbos, when the holiday actually occurred. The bringing of all the
offerings on Sunday may give the appearance of its being the actual holiday, though, and we must

3
https://www.ou.org/life/torah/masechet_hagigah_1319/
4
https://www.dafdigest.org/masechtos/Chagiga%20017.pdf

10
avoid having it appear as we are agreeing with the Tzedukim who always celebrated Shavuos on
Sunday.

According to Rashi, the Mishnah diminishes the observance of the day by having the Kohen Gadol
wear weekday clothes at home and in the street rather than his special, Yom Tov attire. Tosafos
questions the explanation of Rashi to the Mishnah.

Why would only the Kohen Gadol dress down and not wear Yom Tov clothes? Everyone had
special clothes for Yom Tov, and the day would seem routine if everyone would dress normally
rather than with his Yom Tov clothes.

Furthermore, why would the Mishnah say that he should not wear “‫—כליו‬his clothes?” Why are
special Yom Tov clothes referred to as “his clothes?” The Mishnah should simply have stated that
he should not wear ‫ כלים‬,referring to any Yom Tov attire.

Tosafos therefore explains that the Mishnah is describing the actions of the Kohen Gadol
specifically. Normally, the Kohen Gadol had the option of performing the service whenever he
chose to do so. The regular kohen officiating on any day would have to defer to the Kohen Gadol,
who would come wearing his full eight-garment attire and serve. Although the Kohen Gadol would
come occasionally on a weekday, on Yom Tov it was more common for him to appear in the Beis
Hamikdash to do the service.

The Mishnah therefore teaches that the Kohen Gadol would avoid coming in his full attire on this
Sunday, following the Shabbos-Shavuos day. If the Kohen Gadol would come, it would give the
impression to the observer that this day was Shavuos itself, thus misleading people to believe
that the opinion of the Tzeddukim was valid.

R’ Elazar said in the name of R’ Oshaya: How do we know that Shavuos has a compensation
[period] for all seven days?

The Rema (1) writes that tachanun is not recited from Rosh Chodesh Sivan until after the eighth
of the month, i.e. after isru chag.

The Knesses HaGedolah (2) writes that some communities do not recite tachanun until the
thirteenth of the month and some do not resume saying tachanun until the fourteenth of the month.
The reason for this practice is that during the time of the Beis Hamikdash these were the days of
compensation for one who did not bring his Korban on Shavuos. Therefore, nowadays although
we do not have a Beis Hamikdash, when the Beis Hamikdash will be speedily rebuilt, and one will
delay and offer the Korban on one of the compensation days which would generate a prohibition
against eulogizing and fasting on that day. Consequently, we treat these days as a quasi-Yom Tov
and do not recite tachanun.

11
Furthermore, since outside of Eretz Yisroel there are two days of Yom Tov, some count seven
days from the first day of Yom Tov, and resume tachanun on the thirteenth, whereas others count
the seven days from the second day of Yom Tov and resume tachanun on the fourteenth.

Rav Yosef Shteinhart (3), the Zichron Yosef, expressed wonder about the custom recorded in
Rema to recite tachanun during the days that follow Shavuos when the Agudah (4) writes explicitly
that supplications eulogies and fasting are prohibited on the compensation days that follow
Shavuos.

Rav Shaul of Amsterdam (5) responded that it is not necessary for one to be so exacting when it
comes to customs that are not found mentioned explicitly in the Gemara. Furthermore, it seems
that the opinion of Agudah was not accepted, and his contemporaries do not agree with his position.
Although common custom in Eretz Yisroel is to refrain from reciting tachanun until the thirteenth
of the month, Chazon Ish did not follow this practice since it never became a widely accepted
practice (6).

On our daf, the term “Pezer Keshev” is an acronym that stands for the ways in which Shemini
Atzeres counts as a Regel unto itself.

Payas (the Kohanim would draw new lots),

The Belzer Rebbe, Rav Yehoshua, zt”l, was heard to say, “Before the dancing on Simchas Torah,
my father, the Sar Shalom of Belz, zt”l, would say: ‘What the dancing on Simchas Torah really
means I cannot tell you. All I can say is that all the tefillos that did not ascend during the course
of the year ascend on this day through the enthusiastic dancing in honor of the Torah.

12
This is one way to understand the Gemara in Chagigah 17a which states that Shemini Atzeres is a
festival unto itself with regard to Pezer Keshev. Besides the literal meaning, the term alludes to
the tefillos that have been scattered (‫ )פזר‬throughout the year and were fruitless since they were
said without proper intent. Keshev alludes to the fact that Hashem listens ( ‫ ) מקשיב‬to these tefillos
in the merit of our dancing.” A younger man who was there asked an elderly fellow chossid, “But
what is the connection between tefillos without intention and dancing?”

The venerable chossid answered, “The Kotzker Rebbe, zt”l, once asked: What is the great simchah
of Simchas Torah? Certainly not how great the learning of this past year has been, since we see
that everyone rejoices, no matter what he has or hasn’t achieved. It must be that the joy is in the
new beginning that each Jew makes. We resolve to do better from now on and rejoice in our
opportunity to do so. He continued, “Perhaps this is what the Rebbe means. We didn’t have ‫כו ה‬
because we lacked joy. Today, through our being so happy that we dance, Hashem finally ‘hears’
all of our prayers that were said without joy!”

Rabbi Elliot Goldberg writes:5

As we have learned, the Torah establishes three pilgrimage festivals — Passover, Shavuot, and
Sukkot — when sacrifices were meant to be brought to the Temple in Jerusalem. The obligation
to bring these offerings falls on the first day of the holiday.

But as we saw a few days ago, sometimes you can’t make it on time. Instead of saying you are
fresh out of luck, the rabbis taught that if you were unable to present your sacrifice on the first day,
you could still offer it on subsequent days of the holiday. This works out fine for Passover and
Sukkot, which are weeklong holidays. But on Shavuot, which is celebrated for only one day in
Israel, are there any options?

In fact, there are two:

Rabbi Elazar said that Rabbi Oshaya said: From where is it derived that the Shavuot offerings
can be sacrificed for seven days? As it is stated: “Three times a year all your males shall appear
… on the festival of Passover, and on the festival of Shavuot, and on the festival of Sukkot.”
(Deuteronomy 16:16) The verse compares the festival of Shavuot to the festival of Passover by
analogy: Just as one can redress the failure to bring the offering on the festival of Passover on
all seven days of the festival, so too, on the festival of Shavuot, one can redress the failure to
bring the offering for all seven days.

According to Rabbi Elazar, if one can bring a Passover sacrifice for seven days, one can also bring
a Shavuot sacrifice for seven days — the holiday itself and the six days that follow.

But this is not the only option. The Gemara goes on to suggest that Sukkot is also a fair comparison
to Shavuot.

5
Myjewishlearning.com

13
Just as the festival day of Sukkot can be redressed for all eight days, so too can the festival of
Shavuot be redressed for all eight days.

If one fails to bring a festival offering on the first day of Sukkot, it’s permitted to bring it for an
additional seven days — the six remaining days of the holiday plus the additional day of Shemini
Atzeret. But wait, the Gemara objects, isn’t Shemini Atzeret a holiday of its own? If so, one should
be able to bring a forgotten Sukkot offering for only an additional six days, just like on Passover.

It’s true that sometimes we consider Shemini Atzeret to be its own holiday, says the Gemara,
answering its own question. However, for the purpose of determining how much extra time to give
for the holiday sacrifice, it’s considered to be part of Sukkot.

So if we compare Shavuot to Sukkot, we get eight days for sacrifices. If we use Passover, we only
get seven. How do we choose?

The Gemara tells us:

If you grasped many, you did not grasp anything; if you grasped few, you grasped something.

This principle says that if you have to choose between a larger number and a smaller one, if the
rationale for each is comparable, choose the smaller one. What’s the logic here? Well, if you
choose the more expansive option and you are wrong, you’ll lead people astray. In our case, you
would be permitting people to bring sacrifices after the time to bring them has expired. But if you
choose the narrower option and are wrong, you’ve shortened the permissible period for bringing
sacrifices unnecessarily, but you haven’t caused anybody to err as a result of your decision.

In the Talmud, this principle is used consistently in the way that it is on our daf. But in modern
Hebrew, it’s more akin to the English aphorism, “Don’t bite off more than you can chew.” So if
someone says the phrase tafasta m’ruba, lo tafasta to you, know that you are being cautioned to
take on a less ambitious task rather than a larger one that may be too much for you to handle.

Rabbi Johnny Solomon writes:6

Basing itself on Devarim 16:7, we learn in today’s daf (Chagigah 17a-b) that having come to
Jerusalem and consumed the ‫( קרבן פסח‬Pesach sacrifice), and then offered the ‫עולות ראייה‬
(pilgrimage offering) and ‫( שלמי חגיגה‬festive peace offering), a pilgrim must stay overnight and
only then may return back to their homes.

On first glance this requirement of ‫( לינה‬staying overnight until the second day of Pesach) seems
restrictive. However, as Rav Zalman Sorotzkin explains in his Oznayim LaTorah commentary to
Devarim 16:7, what we actually see here is a ruling that expresses great sensitivity:

6
www.rabbijohnnysolomon.com

14
“If I may venture to give my own opinion, I would like to say that the crux of the matter lies in
that Pesach marks the beginning of the harvest. For those who lived far from Jerusalem it could
take as much as fifteen days to reach home after the end of Pesach, and another fifteen days to
return to Jerusalem for Shavuot. Consequently, there would scarcely be time in between for
them to harvest their crops! Therefore, it seems to me that the Torah’s intention here is to be
lenient on the issue of rejoicing during Pesach by allowing the pilgrims to return home for the
remainder of the festival and express their joy by wearing fresh clothing and drinking aged wine
(as per Pesachim 71a & Tosfot Sukkah 42b).”

What this means is that while it may be logical to assume that by coming to Jerusalem for the ‫שלוש‬
‫( רגלים‬the three pilgrimage festivals) that pilgrims would be required to stay for the entire festive
period, this is – in fact – not the case. And why is this ‘exemption’ specifically mentioned in
relation to Pesach? Because Pesach marks the beginning of the harvest and is soon followed by
Shavuot.

There are a number of lessons that we can draw from this Gemara and from this insight from R’
Sorozkin, with the first being that we should discourage people from travelling long distances at
night and, instead, encourage them to stay over and travel when it is safer. Yet there is a second
lesson that we can learn from here – namely that while celebrating festivals is wonderful, doing so
takes time, energy and money. As such, the ‘going out’ to celebrate for a festival needs to be
counterbalanced with the ‘income’ of those who wish to celebrate, and while – ideally – it would
be nice to cease all forms of work during and around the festivals, this is not possible for many
people.

As Pesach is less than two months away it is important to bear this in mind, because while families
and friends like to travel and/or get together during a Chag, there are some people who – while
they may wish to do so – might unfortunately be unable to do so especially given the financial
challenges that so many have experienced in recent years. Ultimately, if the Torah is lenient on the
issue of rejoicing during Pesach out of sensitivity for people’s incomes, we too should be sensitive
about this issue as well.

15
 Bet Hillel and Bet Shammai
Chana Safrai writes:7

In Brief

Bet Hillel and Bet Shammai are the two major schools of exposition of the Oral Law that existed
from the first century BCE to the second century CE. Contrary to the common interpretations, Bet
Shammai is more lenient than Bet Hillel in its rulings surrounding matrimonial law. Bet Shammai

7
https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/bet-hillel-and-bet-
shammai#:~:text=Bet%20Hillel%20and%20Bet%20Shammai%20are%20the%20two%20major%20schools,its%20rulings%20su
rrounding%20matrimonial%20law.

16
is trustful of a widowed woman’s testimony and argues for a coherent legal system that grants a
widow financial resources regardless of the circumstances; Bet Hillel disagrees on both of these
issues. Generally, Bet Hillel is more concerned with the familial complexity or unexpected events,
and that less specific view leads to oppression of women’s autonomy in legal matters. Bet Hillel
informed the creation of halakhah, and therefore has been unable to adapt to modern times.

The Disputes of Hillel and Shammai

Bet Hillel and Bet Shammai are the two major schools of exposition of Oral Law that existed from
the first century BCE to the second century CE. Talmudic tradition lists over three hundred and
fifty disputes or controversies between Bet Shammai and Bet Hillel, including more than sixty
disputes that deal with issues of family law—that is, disputes in which women are incorporated
into the halakhic discussion.

Traditionally, the sages have characterized the differences in rulings of the two schools as more
restrictive on the one hand and more lenient on the other. Bet Shammai is generally more stringent
or restrictive, while Bet Hillel is more lenient (Tosefta Sukkah 2:3). Alternatively, Bet Shammai
can be viewed as more intolerant, while Bet Hillel is more tolerant and takes into account people’s
needs and sensitivities (BT Eruvin 13b).

Matrimonial Law

However, on two issues this characterization does not apply when it comes to matrimonial law.
Firstly, matrimonial issues always involve two parties, the husband and wife, and therefore a
stringent ruling for one is automatically a lenient ruling for the other. Moreover, it appears that in
the majority of cases of disputes between the two schools on issues of matrimonial law, it is Bet
Shammai that views women as autonomous individuals possessing equal personal status, while
Bet Hillel disregards women’s personal status, thus seeming more restrictive to women.

An example is the woman who arrives from a distant or isolated place and relates that her husband
has died. She asks to be recognized as a widow and thus be eligible to receive her ketubbah. Bet
Shammai accepts her request while Bet Hillel debates the issue, saying, “We have not heard [of
accepting a woman’s word testifying to her husband’s death] except in the case of a woman who
comes from the reaping [and says that her husband has died there], in the same region and as a
specific incident that actually took place” (Mishnah Yevamot 15:2). In other words, Bet Hillel
attempts to limit the instances, while Bet Shammai contends, “The sages always spoke in the
present.”

17
Bet Shammai holds that the reaping is only a representative example of an isolated and far-off
event and a woman’s testimony should be accepted in other cases of a similar nature. Thus, the
woman’s lone testimony suffices to declare her a widow. In this case Bet Hillel retracts its opinion
and agrees with Bet Shammai, thus accepting its social and practical logic. Thus, in this instance
Bet Shammai is more attentive to the widow’s predicament, exhibiting—according to the modern
legal understanding—greater sensitivity, while Bet Hillel initially adopts a more restrictive
approach, distrusting the testimony of the woman concerned.

Bet Shammai here is also attentive to the legal status of women and demands a coherent legal
system in which one ruling obligates the entire legal system, thus declaring her a widow and
providing her with her financial resources. Bet Hillel, on the other hand, is more concerned with
the possibility of familial complications and thus neglects formal and legal coherence. Finally, Bet
Hillel changes its view and agrees to accept her testimony as regards her marital status and declare
her a widow.

Modern Perspectives on Hillel and Shammai

Modern researchers argued for slightly different characteristics: Bet Hillel is more liberal (B. Z.
Bacher, Tannaim, 15) and open to foreign influences such as Persia and Rome, while Bet Shammai
rejects all foreign influences and focuses solely on Jewish tradition (Rosenthal). Alternatively, Bet
Hillel takes into account public opinion and customs, while Bet Shammai is guided solely by
stringent, formal halakhah (Auerbach). Bet Shammai is more traditionalist, while Bet Hillel is
innovative (Fish, Shapira, p. 469ff.). Unfortunately, all these categories are, in general, not relevant
to disputes regarding women. Even more important is the fact that the researchers base their
distinctions on disputes in the aggdah and do not at all relate—either directly or tangentially—to
the entire corpus of disputes in which women appear.

In contrast, Yisrael Ben Shalom’s study on Bet Shammai, which is based on excessive enthusiasm
for its teachings, also touches on disputes that include women, claiming that it was Bet Shammai’s
religious zeal that dictated their stance on women-related disputes. However, a close examination
of Ben Shalom’s arguments reveals that his focus is on Bet Shammai itself and not on women. He
thus defines Bet Shammai’s stance in different, even conflicting, ways: as judicial conservatism
(Ben Shalom, Bet Shammai, 161), but also as social sensitivity, “so that the daughters of Israel
shall not be abandoned” (ibid., 210ff.) and, in addition, as a strict and perhaps overly idealistic
view of the institution of marriage (ibid., 212). Ben Shalom’s entire approach is characterized by
inner contradictions as well as lack of feminist critique. Focus on Bet Shammai takes precedence
over interest in women’s legal and social standing.

18
The disputes of Bet Hillel and Bet Shammai have been discussed from a feminist perspective in
the works of Judith Romney Wegner and Judith Hauptman [link to new entry on Judith Hauptman].
Both of them take a mostly legalistic approach to the disputes, analyzing them for their legal effect
on women rather than the social or philosophical nature of rabbinic law. Tal Ilan argues in her
book Integrating Women into Second Temple History that women, particularly aristocratic
women, were attracted to the Pharisaic movement in the Second Temple era and specially to Bet
Shammai.

Judith Romney Wegner poses a number of questions that have their source in feminist criticism,
the most important of which is expressed in the very title of her book: Chattel or
Person? However, her approach is mainly legalistic and although she refers to Mishnaic
or Tannaitic law she does not deal at all with issues of social or philosophical analysis of rabbinic
law. Regrettably, she deals neither with the distinction between Bet Hillel and Bet Shammai nor
with their influence and significance in shaping tannaitic halakhah. While women are at center
stage in her work, Bet Hillel and Bet Shammai are relegated to the margins of feminist research
and remain there to this very day.

Women’s Legal Rights

One can argue that from a philosophical point of view Bet Shammai is almost theocentric: God is
at the very center of its religious and halakhic reasoning, while in Bet Hillel’s religious reasoning
the religious person who aspires to carry out God’s will be central. The disputes on women-related
issues can then be added to those which are explicable by this difference between the two schools.
The above hypothesis may serve to explain Bet Hillel’s severity in some cases, as well as its greater
leniency in others, as against Bet Shammai’s more formal and respectful stance, which seems more
sympathetic to women’s autonomy. One outstanding example is that cited at the beginning of this
article: Bet Shammai’s acceptance of the testimony of the woman whose husband died in a distant
land.

Bet Shammai reached the conclusion that “she may marry and also claim
her ketubbah” (Mishnah Yevamot 15:3).

Since her testimony is admissible, she is free to start a new life and also entitled to the economic
protection that the marriage contract bestows on a widow.

But Bet Hillel declares, “She may marry, but not claim her marriage contract.” According to Bet
Hillel, she is released according to the laws of matrimony, but not as far as monetary laws are
concerned since these may be judged only in a Bet Din with two witnesses. In other words, since
her release was not carried out in an orderly legal framework, she is not entitled to receive her

19
marriage contract. So, while Bet Shammai draws the full legal conclusion and frees the woman
from all dependencies, Bet Hillel separates the financial contract from the discussion of her
personal matrimonial status. Bet Shammai grants the woman organized legal status, while Bet
Hillel weaves the social system into the discussion. Payment of the ketubbah remains a kind of
bargaining chip in verifying the credibility of the woman’s testimony. But this “social sensitivity”
leaves the widow without economic support. Thus, from the point of view of women, the social
consciousness of the liberal Bet Hillel school becomes their nemesis, while the formalism of Bet
Shammai grants women autonomy and personal status.

This distinction holds good in another important controversy, regarding the relationship between
two women married to one and the same man, who died childless (zarat ervah—a co-wife of a
prohibited relation; e.g., if one widow is the daughter of the deceased’s brother).

“Bet Shammai permits the non-related widow to marry the brother, and Bet Hillel forbids
her” (Mishnah Yevamot 1:4).

According to Bet Shammai, from a legal point of view there is no point in linking the fate of the
two widows together. The widow who is the daughter of the deceased’s brother cannot enter into
a levirate marriage because it is a prohibited marriage, while the other widow is an autonomous
person unto herself and can marry the brother of the deceased. Bet Hillel holds the opposite
opinion: the two women are not autonomous; their status is conditional on their being the ex-wives
of the same deceased and their destinies continue to be interconnected. We can assume that Bet
Hillel was afraid of the confusion that might ensue in the family if one of the widows was allowed
to marry but not the other, and thus preferred to take into account the real-life family situation
rather than the legal one.

It is precisely this social sensitivity that explains the salient differences between the two schools
regarding the laws of a daughter’s refusal (me’un ha-bat); that is, the right of a minor girl whose
father has died to object to a marriage arranged for her by her mother or brothers and where a bet
din annuls her marriage (Mishnah Yevamot 13:2). The “daughter’s refusal” is an innovation
crafted by the sages and both Bet Hillel and Bet Shammai accepted it as part of the halakhah, yet
there are many disputes between the two schools regarding various details. Bet Shammai attempted
to anchor the right of refusal within the legal system, while Bet Hillel anchored it in the social
system.

Thus, Bet Shammai maintains that the refusal must be performed before the bet din, while Bet
Hillel maintains that the refusal may or may not be performed before the bet
din (Mishnah Yevamot 13:1). The Talmudic discussion elaborates in the spirit of Bet Hillel:
“Rabbi Hanina said: There was the story of a little girl who went to buy flax from the flax seller.

20
They said to her: ‘How is your fiancé?’ She answered, ‘Let his own mother go marry him.’ The
incident was brought before the sages, and they said: ‘There is no greater evidence of refusal than
that. We learned in the name of Rabbi Yodah: Even if she had entered a store only to get something
from the shopkeeper and said, “I can’t stand so-and-so as my husband,” there is no greater refusal
than this’” (JT Yevamot 13:1, 13c).

An even more extreme case is “The daughter-in-law of Rav Yishmael expressed her refusal, and
her son was on her shoulder” (JT Yevamot 13:1, 13c). Despite the fact that she had a baby,
irrefutable proof that she was actually married, as a minor whose father had died, she had the right
of refusal, and her marriage was declared to be annulled. She is not a divorcée but a “refuser.”

Halakhic Ramifications

The philosophical-halakhic positions of the two schools also determine their halakhic stance on
everything related to women’s issues. The conservative religious-legal viewpoint grants women a
more egalitarian social position, while precisely Bet Hillel’s sensitivity to familial complexity and
the vicissitudes of life turned women into those who pay the personal price for the sake of family
and society. Thus Bet Hillel, with its more broad-minded and lenient bent, paradoxically turns out
to be antithetical to basic feminist concepts of equality and personal autonomy.

Moreover, since halakhah is determined according to Bet Hillel, it has lost the ability to undergo
adaptation in light of modern influences and structural changes in family and society. Laws of
matrimony and personal status have been determined in accordance with societal and familial
frameworks of the early centuries of the Common Era, when Bet Hillel still functioned within a
living social framework. But halakhah was determined for all future generations as well. Thus,
today’s laws of matrimony and the personal status of women still reflect Bet Hillel’s ancient stance,
but their essence has been totally transformed. Today they are no longer part and parcel of
contemporary societal sensitivity, but rather an expression of lack of sensitivity, both legal and
social.

Bibliography

Behar, Benyamin Ze’ev. The Aggadot of the Tannaim (Hebrew). Jaffa: 1920–1923.

Ben Shalom, Yisrael. Bet Shammai and the Struggle of the Zealots against Rome (Hebrew). Jerusalem: University of Ben
Gurion, 1994.

Frankel, Zekharyah. Methods of the Mishnah, the Tosefta, Mekhilta and Sifri (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Sinai, 1959, 48–49.

21
Rosenthal, Eliezer Shimshon. “Halakhic Tradition and Innovations in the Mishnah of the Sages” (Hebrew). Tarbiz 63 (1994):
321–338.

Schwarz, Adolf. Die Erleichterungen der Schammaiten und die Erschwerungen der Hilleliten. Wien: Israelitisch-Theologische
Lehranstalt, 1893.

Shapira, Hayyim and Menahem Fisch. “The Polemics of the Schools: The Meta-Halakhic Disputations between the Schools of
Shammai and the Schools of Hillel” (Hebrew). Iyyunei Mishpat 22/2 (1999): 461–497.

Sonne, I. “The Schools of Shammai and Hillel from Within.” In Essays in Greco-Roman and Related Talmudic Literature,
edited by H. Fischel, 94–110. New York: Ktav Publishing House, 1977.

Urbach, Ephraim E., The Sages: Their Concepts and Beliefs. Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1979.

Wegner, Judith Romney. Chattel or Person: The Status of Women in the Mishnah. New York: Oxford University Press, 1988.

Zevin, Solomon Joseph. “The Systems of Bet Shammai and Bet Hillel.” In Le-Or ha-Halakhah (Hebrew). Jerusalem: Mosad
HaRav Kook, 2004, 394–402.

"Both are the Words of the Living God":

22
AVI SAGI writes:8

8
Hebrew Union College Annual , 1994, Vol. 65 (1994)

23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
Rav Moshe Taragin writes:9

The gemara in Berakhot concludes in accordance with Beit Hillel on a particular issue, and

then goes on to ask why special mention had to be made of this fact. After all, it is obvious that we

rule according to Beit Hillel; a bat kol had already directed us to side with Beit Hillel in most

disputes with Beit Shammai! The gemara explains that this statement that the halakha follows

Beit Hillel’s opinion was issued prior to the emanation of that bat kol. Alternatively,

the gemara attributes this conclusion to R. Yehoshua, who claims that we do not heed a bat kol.

This gemara in Berakhot (as well as parallel gemarot) highlight two very different

approaches to bat kol. The gemara itself seems comfortable inclining toward Beit Hillel based on

9
https://www.etzion.org.il/en/talmud/seder-zeraim/massekhet-berakhot/relying-bat-kol-or-other-non-rational-halakhic-sources

34
a heavenly voice directing a halakhic decision. R. Yehoshua, however, appears to disagree,

claiming that we ignore heavenly guidance in halakhic issues.

Of course, the issue of relying upon a bat kol is a well-known question with a seemingly

conclusive position. The famous gemara in Bava Metzia (59a) cites a debate regarding an oven

that had been patched up (the tanur shel Achnai) and whether it was still capable of

receiving tumah. Most of the Chakhamim asserted one position while R. Eliezer

dissented. Attempting to bolster his claim against the majority, R. Eliezer requested a bat kol in

his defense. Even though the bat kol emanated and defended R. Eliezer’s opinion,

the Chakhamim refused to concur, citing the pasuk in Parshat Nitzavim: “Lo ba-shamayim hi.”

Once the Torah was delivered at Sinai, they argued, its halakhic decisions are no longer influenced

by heavenly events. It would appear that R. Yehoshua’s aversion to bat kol-induced pesak is the

consensus opinion in Bava Metzia.

Tosfaot in Bava Metzia offer two ways to reconcile the inadmissibility of a bat kol in Bava

Metzia with the reliance upon a bat kol in the disputes of Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai. Tosfafot’s

second answer claims that IN GENERAL, a bat kol is heeded; the bat kol of R. Eliezer was ignored

only becuase it was he who summoned it. The Chakhamim detected that a solicited bat kol was

only dispensed to protect the integrity of R. Eliezer. As it did not emanate independently, it lacked

halakhic authority. This position implies that a typical bat kol that issues without a request does

carry halakhic authority.

Tosafot also provide an initial answer that significantly curtails the authority of a bat

kol. Generally, a bat kol is not authoritative. However, a bat kol that directs ruling like Beit Hillel

against Beit Shammai is more concrete. Halakhic calculus would suggest ruling in accordance

with Beit Hillel, since this “house” of scholars was more numerous than the Shammai “house” and

35
we generally favor the majority. However, Shammai’s scholars were known to be extremely astute,

and this might equalize their numerical disadvantage. The bat kol merely assured that the

conventional calculus of ruling as the majority could still be maintained in this case. This approach

of Tosafot severly limits the efficacy of a bat kol; only in the lone instance of Hillel and Shammai

can a bat kol be incorporated.

Ultimately, the two respective positions in Tosafot in Bava Metzia dispute the reliability of

a bat kol. Can normative halakha be decided by supernatural input?

In a broader sense, it appears that the Rambam and the Ra’avad also disputed this issue,

although not in a direct fashion. In the introduction to his commentary to the mishna, the Rambam

asserts that prophetic faculty is completely insignificant in the halakhic realm. Only rational

“sevara” is factored in arriving at halakhic conclusion. In fact, the Rambam (Hilkhot Yesodei Ha-

Torah 9:4) claims that if a prophet were to assert a halakhic ruling as prophecy, he would be

considered a false prophet and be summarily executed. Such a prophet is, in essence, contradicting

the Torah, which stated “lo ba-shamayim hi” – that after its delivery, Torah would no longer be

guided by prophecy.

In contrast, the Ra’avad is quite clear that he factored in non-rational information into his

halakhic rulings. In his comments to the Rambam in Hilkhot Lulav 8:5, for example, he discusses

a hadas branch whose top has been clipped and rules that it is pasul (against the Rambam, who

allowed it). To defend his position, he writes, “We have benefited many years from ruach ha-

kodesh in our beit midrash and based on this experience we rule that a decapitated hadas is

invalid.” (R. Chaim Vital, a student of the Arizal, once claimed that the Raavad regularly

studied kabbala with Eliyahu Ha-Navi. The Ra’avad also published a book on Sefer Ha-

Yetzirah). In fact, one of the Ba’alei Ha-Tosafot, R. Yaakov Ha-Chasid, published a sefer of

36
responsa known as “Shut Min Ha-Shamayim” based on halakhic questions that he asked the

heavenly court. This entire sefer is built upon the premise that non-rational factors can affect

halakhic ruling.

Of course, it is not altogether clear that the Rambam would argue with the gemara’s

reliance upon bat kol, the Ra’avad’s reliance upon ruach ha-kodesh, or R. Yaakov’s inquiring of

heavenly courts. The Rambam’s comments in Hilkhot Yesodei Ha-Torah can be interpreted as

referring solely to a NAVI who employs prophecy to issue halakhic statements. Prophecy is not an

intended source for halakhic activity and directly flaunts the concept of lo ba-shamayim

hi. Would ruach ha-kodesh DELIVERED to a human being BY ELIYAHU be considered a

violation of lo ba-shamayim hi? Would a bat kol dispensed from heaven and intended for human

hearing defy the lo ba-shamayim principle? If this information is dispatched specifically for human

consumption, is it considered “Torah ba-shamayim”?

A different distinction may further allow the Rambam to accept some of these precedents.

In particular, his comments in the introduction to his commentary to the mishna indicate that his

opposition to use of nevuah in determining halacha is that it is not based upon logic, but rather

prophecy. It is therefore obvious that prophets offering logical input are allowed to participate in

the process. In fact, the gemara provides ample precedent of prophets who did influence halakha

through their logical-halakhic activity (Yechezkel and Chizkiyahu, among others). From the

Rambam’s comments in Yesodei Ha-Torah, it appears that ONLY rational statements based

on sevara are acceptable, thus eliminating the autocratic experience of a bat kol. However, if

Eliyahu engages in rational discussion with the Ra’avad, or if R. Yaakov Ha-Chasid receives a

RATIONAL argument from the heavenly court, are they similarly excluded? Perhaps the Rambam

37
does not accept halakhic arbitration based upon a bat kol since it appears to be completely

arbitrary, but he may be willing to accept logical input from supernatural sources.

Hillel and Shammai – Two Opinions10

The “machloket,” or disagreement, between Hillel and Shammai and their respective Academies,
Beit Hillel, and Beit Shammai, in the matter of the lighting of the Chanukah Menorah, turns on a
fundamental question regarding commandments, the performance of which varies with time.
According to Shammai, one begins with the “days remaining;” that is, with the “maximum
potential” of the commandment. According to Hillel, one begins with the “days completed;” that
is, with the “realized potential” of the commandment. Thus, on the first night, before the kindling,
there remain eight days, a potential of eight lights, so, according to Shammai and his Academy,
the correct number of lights is eight. According to Hillel and his Academy, before the kindling,
we say that tonight will be the first night of realized potential for this commandment, so we light
one.

10
https://www.ou.org/holidays/hillel_and_shammai_two_opinions/

38
And so on till the last night, where, according to Shammai, there is only one night remaining, so
we light just one light, whereas according to Hillel, this will be the eighth night of realized
potential, so we light the full complement of eight.

Each viewpoint has either a model from the Bible or a strong logical argument to buttress their
opinion.

Beit Shammai has the model of the offering of bulls during the Festival of Succot, which begins
with thirteen on the first day and, decreasing by one each day, finishes with seven on the seventh
day (for a total of seventy, corresponding to the “seventy nations of the world,” for whose benefit
the offering is made.). And decrements yet again to just one bull, on the “eighth day” of Succot,
Shmini Atzeret, which corresponds to the singular People of Israel.

Beit Hillel has on its side the general rule followed in many areas of the Torah, that “Ma’alin
Ba’Kodesh ve’ayn Moridin,” One increases in matters of holiness, and does not diminish.

As mentioned in the “Basics” Section, the matter of the dispute was voted upon, in the democratic
spirit of the Talmud, and the Halachah (the practice to be followed in the actual case) was decided
in accordance with Beit Hillel; namely, to begin with one and conclude with eight lights on
Chanukah.

Also as mentioned in the “Basics” Section, Hillel and Shammai were frequent disputants, differing
on fundamental questions of Jewish Law. It is about disputes such as these, where both parties are
striving for the “sake of heaven,” that Pirkei Avot (a Tractate of the Mishnah, dealing with basic
ideas of Judaism) says that both sides of the argument will live forever, because “Elu V’Elu Divrei
Elokim Chayim,” “Both the one and the other side of the argument are the words of the Living G-
d.”

How can this be? Does this complementarity suggest that there are two standards of truth?

The answer seems to be along these lines: The Talmud says that even though in most cases, the
Halachah is decided in accordance with the view of Hillel, in reality, Shammai’s analyses were
sharper and deeper. So why then was the Halachah decided in favor of Hillel?

39
This is because Hillel’s viewpoint is appropriate for the Pre-Messianic Era, the period, basically,
of Exile and Persecution, when people are distracted from the ultimate realities of life, which are
indeed in accord with the thought of Beit Shammai. The Messianic Era will be a time of actualized
potential for humanity, a time of “U’Maleah Ha’Aretz Deah es Hashem Ka’Mayim la’Yam
Me’chasim,” “Knowledge of the L-rd will fill the world, as water covers the bed of the sea.”

And paradoxically, it is then, at the time when mankind reaches the point which Beit Hillel had
advocated all along was the correct way to view a Commandment, that the Halacha will revert to
the opinion of Beit Shammai. For humanity then will be on a higher level and be able to apprehend
reality as Shammai did.

The Schools of Hillel and Shammai

Haim Shapira writes:11

11
https://www.academia.edu/6227891/The_Schools_of_Hillel_and_Shammai

40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
 Open Hillel, Open Shammai: Case Closed

Daniel Landes writes:12

There is no argument that Jews argue a lot; the question is whether we argue Jewishly. Most of the
time, we do not. This is sad – the power of the Jewish intellect is its ability to argue in order to get
to the truth, which has served us well in the academy, in the laboratory, and in the judiciary, to
name only a few places. But today we are faced with disputations that never reach a constructive
resolution and indeed often fail to rise to a meaningful encounter.

We find ourselves in the situation of the five stellar students of Rabbi Akiva (2nd Century CE,
Eretz Yisrael)—R. Meir, R. Yehudah, R. Jose, R. Simeon, and R. Eleazar ben Shammua—who
along with their master “restored Torah to Israel” (Yevamot 62b):

Our rabbis taught: After the demise of R. Meir [the most charismatic and erudite of all R.
Akiva’s students], R. Yehudah said to his disciples, “do not allow his disciples to enter here, for
they are qantranin (quarrelsome); they do not come to learn Torah but come to overwhelm me
with citations from Tradition.” Symmachus forced his way through and entered. He said to them
“thus did R. Meir teach me: [and proceeded to declare sources on the issue they were debating].
. . .” R. Yehudah was wroth and said to them, “Did I not tell you not to allow the pupils of R.
Meir to enter here because they are qantranin?” [And he proceeded to dismiss Symmachus’
citations.] R. Yose commented: “People will say, ‘Meir is dead, Yehudah is angry, Yose is silent;
what is to become of the Torah?’” And so R. Yose explained: [and he continued to reenter the
debate…] (Nazir 49b-50a).

The generation of R. Akiva’s students restored Torah in Israel through energetic debate
surrounding major and minor issues. With the death of R. Meir, their ‘first amongst equals’, his
students (represented by Symmachus) come into the Beit Midrash ostensibly to continue the
debate. But as it happens with all ideologues – especially if they are learned and quick – they

12
https://elmad.pardes.org/2014/02/open-hillel-open-shammai-case-closed-2/

54
actually mean to shut it down. R. Yehudah, angry, responds by dismissing them outright. R. Yose,
initially appalled, is silent/silenced by the crudeness of it all.

All this should be familiar. With the passing of the greats of yesteryear (Rav Kook, Chazzon Ish,
Ben Gurion, Begin and Buber come to mind), we feel that not only is leadership gone, but also any
sensible discussion. Both the Yeshiva and the Knesset abhor a vacuum, and so in flow ideologues
who just want to own the debate. Other men of goodwill, and even greatness, become angry,
jaundiced, and dismissive. The rest of us are silenced and leave the voices to the strident Qantranin.
Will we, and how can we, be the R. Yose who overcomes his own silence and reenters the
discussion?

An effective paradigm for positive argumentation can be found in the Chevrutah system of the
Beit Midrash (house of study).

Paradoxically, that system itself is rooted in tragedy and persists with constant fragility. The great
rabbinic system of argumentation began with the schools of the liberal Hillel and the strict
constructionist Shammai, 200 years before the students of Rabbi Akiva in Eretz Yisrael. These
two leaders and their followers were amazing in their brilliance and their sharp disputes, but also
in their ability to respect and work with each other. Yet evidently their civility in argumentation
could not hold. The Talmud describes the breakdown:

At first there was no makhloket (dispute) in Israel except for the [issue of] Laying of Hands [on
a sacrifice during the holidays] alone. Then Shammai and Hillel arose and rendered them [the
arguments] fourfold. And when the students of the House of Shammai and House of Hillel –
who did not serve their masters adequately – increased, then makhloket increased in Israel, and
they divided into sects. These would render unclean; and those would render clean. Moreover,
this situation will not return to normal until [the Messiah] the son of David will arrive
(Jerusalem Talmud Ḥagigah 2:2).

Faced with the disastrous potential of improper disputation, the Rabbis frequently pleaded for
tolerance, but more often they took the counterintuitive approach. They promoted and modeled
excessive debate, rendering the argument ever longer and obsessive. The Talmud is nothing more

55
than makhloket on every issue, its nuances, and implications, with the commentaries and later
halakhic works serving as the argument’s continuation. In the exhaustion of effort and words,
resolution(s) are sometimes found. And if they are not, there often emerges a sense of mutual
respect, sometimes grudging, but sometimes something more elevating:

“Happy is the man who has filled his quiver with [sharp arrows], they shall not be ashamed; when
they speak with their enemies in the gate” (Ps. 127:5). What is meant by “with their enemies in the
gate”? Answered R. Hiyya bar Abba: “Even father and son, master, and disciple, who study
together at the same gate [i.e. House of Study] become enemies of each other; yet they do not stir
from there until they come to love each other.” [Wherefore it is said in the Book of the Wars of
the Lord (Numbers 21:14)] “Love is besufah [in the reeds]” – read not ‘besufah’, but ‘besofoh’ [in
the end]” (Kedushin 30b).

The rabbis accentuated argumentation in Torah study to the extent that it became, and remains,
synonymous with war: both sides must be armed with the sharpest instruments, and both are
considered equal – even deference to teacher and parent is disregarded, as is showing kindness to
student and child. Opposing sides are transformed into combatants, gladiators, indeed enemies.
This is expected and demanded. The stakes are high, and the truth is crucial. This was the ambiance
in the great shiurim (classes) in the top Lithuanian yeshivot as well as in my classes with The Rav,
R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik. Undeniably, there were meaningful moments of mesorah (the handing
down of anecdotes and law from past generations) as many have recounted in their recollections
of what happened in his shiur, but the often-jolting search for Truth was palpable, and in the end
nothing else really mattered.

In situations of analysis and debate, the sharp edge is necessary to get at the ragged truth.

But then there is something else – magical – that invariably takes place in the paired study
chevrutah dynamic. Both sides/participants will be vigorously demonstrating their case, even
despairing of the other and his/her obtuseness in refusing to “get it”. Then the despairing
participant hesitates in his repeated articulations of the “correct” position and suddenly, forcibly,
says, “No, no you are right!” as he proceeds with a rush of stuttering and enthusiasm to elucidate
why his partner was correct all along – and certainly didn’t even know how right he was! During

56
this abrupt change, his “correct” partner listens happily until somewhere in the middle a cloud
passes his face, and he interrupts, exclaiming, “No, no, you are right!” while he proceeds to explain
his sudden enlightenment. “The Big Switcheroo” (my own technical term) has been affected.

This does not happen in all situations, but it happens enough in continued study to be constructive.
The entire exercise teaches forcefulness and restraint, pride, and humility.

The Jerusalem Talmud (ed. c. 350 CE) is dramatic and absolute regarding the Shammai-Hillel rift
and its irreconcilable nature. Indeed much later the Shulḥan Arukh (Orakh Ḥayim 580) in five
Hebrew words locates the 9th of Adar as the day in which the two Houses clashed. As the Arukh
HaShulḥan (R. Yechiel Michel Epstein, 1829-1908, Lithuania) briefly adds, “The matter was hard
for Israel, so they decreed a fast on [that day]” (Orakh Ḥayim 580:3). This fast may accord with
sources who say the clash was so intense that 3,000 students lost their lives!

Clearly Rabbinic Judaism has changed. It started with a defined practice in which disputes were
quickly resolved via votes in the Sanhedrin. The Hillel School became dominant, but during a
certain session the votes went to Shammai on eighteen matters that remain, to this day, law.
However, even as issues were resolved, differences multiplied. And with students who were
faithful to their masters in every way, except incorporating the crucial skill of knowing how to
compromise and get along, tolerance collapsed.

Hillel’s school nonetheless became ascendant, and in a relatively short period Shammai’s academy
faded. But we still have rifts recorded afterward; witness Symmachus’ incursion into the locked
study hall. The Rabbis’ solution was to counterintuitively and brilliantly encourage the makhloket,
and indeed in a Kabuki-like magnification of dramatic speech, the Talmud and everything that has
come from it was born.

There is joy in a true encounter. In it we discover that there is something to be gained from hearing
out the other side. When we can overcome our propensity to be qantranin or just plain nudniks, we
find hope that whatever it is, we can argue it out.

57
 Historically, religious Zionism has been verboten in the Charedi world. Yet, this ideological
exclusion now seems impractical to maintain. In truth, both Charedim and religious Zionists
would benefit from greater interaction between the two communities. Our two worlds should
become more like Beis Hillel and Beis Shammai––close enough to argue productively

Rabbi Aryeh Meir writes:13

Approximately a year ago, Israel’s Health Ministry’s policy of housing Covid-19 patients in
specially designated hotels facilitated an unusual encounter between Charedi and Religious Zionist
yeshiva students. While sharing the same hotel lobby (that was converted into an ad-hoc yeshiva

13
https://iyun.org.il/en/article/charedim-and-religious-zionism-a-dispute-for-the-sake-of-heaven/

58
study hall), the two groups got together for a joint discussion panel on their communities’
respective worldviews. Notwithstanding differences between them, it seemed natural to yeshiva
students of both ilks to include their new peers in discussions they were already conducting among
themselves.

Yet, from the perspective of many in the Charedi leadership, the panel was grounds for banning
yeshiva students from entering Covid-19 hotels altogether. The dialogue itself, irrespective of its
content (the topic, disputed matters of ideology, made things worse of course), was considered
something to be censored. “This is how the Haskalah movement began,” one rabbinic figure noted.

Over the last few decades, very little Torah or public dialogue has taken place between the two
communities. This is true on a literal level of human discourse but applies even to books and other
literature. My grandfather’s father made a living by selling books in Bnei Brak. When he
approached the Chazon Ish to ask whether he should sell books written by Rav Kook, zt”l, the
latter responded: “Halacha books—yes; Agaddah books—no.” Since then, all of Rav Kook’s
books, together with other Mizrachi-affiliated publications, have been removed from Charedi
bookshelves and from internal halachic and Torah discourse.

From the Charedi perspective, it seems that the Religious Zionist way of life shares a similar status
to full-blown secularism. Indeed, every Charedi school student has heard the adage that
“A Mizrochnik”—the familiar pejorative for Religious Zionists—“is worse than Esav.” The
former tries to have it both ways, maintaining superficial allegiance to both traditional and secular
practices, which is even worse than the latter (this, so the half-joke goes, is why Rivkah was so
concerned when she felt her baby kicking both outside the Shul and outside the idolatrous temple).
In Charedi eyes, there is thus no common ground between the Charedi Beis Midrash and that of
Religious Zionism; accordingly, there is no scope for meaningful dialogue.

I should add that this is not to say that Charedim do not tolerate any religious diversity. Brisk, the
tradition of the Chazon Ish, various Chassidic courts, the Sefardi Torah academies, and, of course,

59
the many shades of the Lithuanian yeshiva world all are all legitimate Charedi options. Those who
choose one do not isolate themselves from those who choose differently; they are all considered
worthy of mutual interest and study. But Religious Zionism—its leading figures and its literature—
is different. It is muktzeh.

While there were understandable grounds for the original break between the Charedi and
Religious Zionist communities, I believe that today this rift requires reexamination

While there were understandable grounds for the original break between the Charedi and Religious
Zionist communities, I believe that today this rift requires reexamination. Both communities have
been transformed over the years, and the State of Israel, whose status constitutes the main reason
for the hostility between them, has also changed. These changes should facilitate and even invite
dialogue and closer cooperation between our communities.

I would like to consider the relationship between the communities from a Torah perspective,
beginning with a discussion of internal machlokes—legitimate disputes between variant
opinions—and moving on to a discussion of changes that have taken place in our times and the
consequences they can have on the relationship between our communities’ respective Batei
Midrash. Although my focus is on the respective study halls, which represent the elite institutions
of each community, the discussion is relevant for all forms of healthy interaction between the two.

Polemic or Dispute?

Chazal distinguished between disputes that ought to take place within the traditional study hall and
those that belong outside of it. The arguments between Beis Shammai and Beis Hillel exemplified
the first type. The Sages’ polemical war against the Tzedukim, which was one of communal
survival, belongs to the second variety.

60
The Gemara documents several debates between Chazal and the Tzedukim, encompassing many
areas of Torah practice. By contrast with regular Talmudic disputation, the Sages aimed to reach
a total victory in the form of ideological expulsion, leaving no space for a level-headed and
reasoned debate with the Tzedukim. In Chazal’s eyes, their views were simply out of bounds and
had to be purged by means of the sharpest polemic. One illustration of this approach is Rabban
Yochanan Ben Zakkai’s response to the Tezduki position regarding a daughter’s inheritance: “He
told him: Fool! Our complete Torah should not be as their idle chatter. […] They defeated them,
and the day was made into a holiday” (Bava Basra 116). The Tzedukim were considered enemies
rather than peers, and the Sages’ attitude towards them was dismissive and contemptuous.

The Tzeudikim were of course unusual. Chazal tolerated many views within the Jewish fold and
appreciated diversity among legitimate ways to serve Hashem and interpret the Torah. The world
of the Sages is thus replete with constructive disputes, sometimes more collegial and sometimes
less, and is generally characterized by the uniquely pluralistic position of “These and these are the
words of the living God.” Disputants observe and learn from the virtues and arguments of the other
side. The emphasis on debate and discussion, often animated and even fierce, enriches the Beis
Midrash and its occupants. Variety leads us to consider new points of view, including those we
can learn and grow from.

This was the case for Chazal, and such remains the case today, one example being the debate
between Chassidim and Misnagdim. Today, unlike the situation in the past, the arena for this
debate is firmly inside the Beis Midrash. Moreover, Chassidim and Misnagdim have learned from
each other—Lithuanian davening and service of Hashem has become more spirited, while
Chassidim have adopted Lithuanian methods of halacha and Torah pedagogy.

But pluralism has its boundaries. It applies to disputes that are “for the sake of Heaven,” as the
Mishnah in Avos (5:17) puts it

But pluralism has its boundaries. It applies to disputes that are “for the sake of Heaven,” as the
Mishnah in Avos (5:17) puts it. Within this framework, each party to a dispute recognizes that the

61
other is making a serious argument, rooted in God’s Torah, and having a place in God’s world.
Given these common assumptions, and despite halachic differences that threatened to undermine
the sense of unity, much effort was invested to ensure men and women of different variant schools
continued to marry among one another (see, for instance, Yevamos 12 concerning Hillel and
Shammai). Yet, when the debate is “not for the sake of Heaven,” meaning that one of the sides
places itself outside the pale of our tradition’s basic assumptions, matters become altogether
different.

The current Charedi approach to the Religious Zionist community, whether intentional and aware
or not, is akin to the Sages’ attitude to the Tzedukim. The attitude is disrespectful—a recurring
theme in official Charedi media organs (especially during periods of political tension) is that fear
of Heaven escapes through the holes in a knitted Kippah—and displays no desire for serious or
candid dialogue. The case of the yeshiva students who met at the Covid-19 hotel, which can surely
be seen through a positive lens of mutual respect and learning, is just one illustration of the state
of affairs.

Yet, it is hard to point to a fundamental religious disagreement between the Religious Zionist and
Charedi communities. Both believe in the same Torah, observe the same halacha, and espouse
similar (though not identical) patterns of authority and instruction. The Orthodox approach to the
Reform movement is legitimately close to the approach of Chazal to the Tzedukim: the gap in
basic assumptions is too large to bridge, and the discussion cannot be characterized as a debate
between legitimate options. But why has the Religious Zionist world been subjected to similar
treatment?

Reasons for the Rift

The short answer to why our communities don’t speak to each other is simple: the Jewish state.
Charedim considered a secular Jewish state to be a grave threat to Jewish tradition. The fear of

62
secularization and the resultant refusal to cooperate with the state and participate in the project of
its building, in its institutions, and certainly in its culture, became a central feature of Charedi
Judaism. It is this feature that separated the Charedim from their Religious Zionist brothers.

The fear of secularization and the resultant refusal to cooperate with the state and participate
in the project of its building, in its institutions, and certainly in its culture, became a central
feature of Charedi Judaism

Religious Zionism’s close cooperation with the secular wing of the Zionist movement repelled the
Charedi leadership and its public. For one, the association led to halachic leniencies of which
Charedi society deeply disapproved. At the early stages of the Jewish state, one of the focal points
of the rift was the Bnei Akiva movement and the halachic permissiveness of religious Kibbutzim.
This suspicion over halachic motivation deepened during the era of Rabbi Shlomo Goren, who in
Charedi eyes symbolized the establishment of a plastic halacha susceptible to the interests of a
secular state. Religious Zionism’s accommodating attitude towards the state motivated the Charedi
perception of being faced with an anti-traditional movement in traditional garb. There is no need,
for the present article, to reflect on whether it was right for Charedim to see things this way. We
can at least understand what led Charedim to portray the Religious Zionist world, including its
rabbinic establishment, in such unflattering light.

Alongside the religious concerns, perhaps the main motivation for the split between Charedim and
Religious Zionists was political rather than ideological. The need to establish Charedi society as
an independent and united social movement rallying to a single standard led to the exclusion of
many Orthodox groups and worldviews that previously had a home in the traditional Beis Midrash.
Rav Elazar Menachem Shach in particular purged certain elements from the Charedi world for the
sake of a unified communal authority––for political, rather than for religious reasons. The same is
true of the Religious Zionist community, which was distanced from the Charedi primarily for
primarily non-religious reasons.

63
The homogenization of Charedi society, which was seen as essential for strengthening its political
and educational institutions in the face of tremendous threats, greatly weakened our ability to
conduct serious debate on matters of ideology, which left the Beis Midrash for the public square.
What used to be grounds for (heated) disagreement now became grounds for ostracism.

Deep Changes

The good news is that the situation that divided our communities has changed significantly. The
Jewish state and its religious conflicts are very different now from how they were just some
decades ago. The state and its population have become more religious. There is an affinity—not
only rhetorical but also financial and institutional—between the state and its more traditional
constituencies. If words such as “Zionism” and “nationalism” were once identified with the secular
left, today they possess a strong religious connotation. In addition, Israel’s high culture now
incorporates traditional images and vocabulary. This is still more the case for its popular culture.

The struggle between religion and secularism endures, of course; in some respects has even
intensified. Yet, the state is no longer clearly secular, and neither is Israel’s dominant culture. The
religious tensions are thus not between the state and religious people, but rather internal tensions
within state institutions that are not due solely or even mostly to Charedim. On the contrary, the
state is no longer considered by most of us to be a threat to Judaism. The secular threat is identified
today with other institutions, non-state actors themselves often hostile to the state. The militantly
secular “New Israel Fund” is one example. And the courts, formally an arm of the state, are
considered by the majority of the public as a rival, on certain levels, to the other arms of state
mechanism.

The word “state” thus no longer inspires religious fear, and militant secularism has been condensed
to a relatively small secular Left, a vocal set of NGOs, and the Supreme Court. As far as the state

64
is concerned, an initially anti-religious ideology has given way to a reality of governing a
population generally sympathetic to religion.

The Charedi public has become part of Israel’s right-wing political bloc. It is no longer a “swing
vote” in Israeli politics, standing aloof from the country’s core issues while lobbying for its
parochial interests

The effects of these changes on the Charedi community are readily apparent. Charedim are much
more identified with the state than they used to be, both in theory and in practice. The Charedi
public has become part of Israel’s right-wing political bloc. It is no longer a “swing vote” in Israeli
politics, standing aloof from the country’s core issues while lobbying for its parochial interests.
Younger Charedim in particular identify with the State of Israel. They do not feel the persecution
or victimization that the older generation still remembers; if they do, they do not see themselves
as powerless to respond. For instance, the Charedi attitude towards Yair Lapid and Avigdor
Liberman is that of political competitors. In short, Charedim no longer view the state as an
implacably hostile monolith, but as a project that can be responsive to the Charedi point of view.
Charedim have often requited these changes with gratitude, including a softer and approach to
national holidays––certainly days of mourning, and even Israeli Independence Day and Yom
Yerushalayim.

Concomitantly, the Religious Zionist community has undergone its own changes, converging with
Charedim in several respects. Feeling betrayed by a secular majority that defended Oslo and the
disengagement from Gaza, many Religious Zionists partially view themselves as political
dissidents. The tagging of residents of Judea and Samaria as “settlers” and “post-Zionist” trends
on the Left have broken faith between Religious Zionists and their old secular comrades. On the
whole, the Religious Zionist sector is far more aware of the state’s deficiencies, both religious and
practical. Today, Religious Zionists are often the hawks in the fight for the state’s religious
character, even more so than Charedim. This is not a change to be dismissed.

65
Setting aside its relations with the secular elite, the entire Religious Zionist project of combining
Torah with a religiously neutral public square has been shaken. In the past, this combination was
expressed in halachic leniency, especially concerning issues of modesty. Boys and girls mixed in
Bnei Akiva (as noted above), and married women largely did not cover their hair. Also, Religious
Zionist kashrus standards used to be less reliably strict. Proximity to secular culture was another
divider––televisions used to be ubiquitous in Religious Zionist households, while they were non-
existent in Charedi ones.

At the same time, Religious Zionists have become far more diverse on matters of halachic
stringency and the distance from secular culture to the degree that there are no clear and set
norms on these and related matters

On numerous fronts, the two communities have moved towards one another. There were always
some Charedi individuals who were more open to Israel’s formal and informal institutions, but this
trend has morphed from a small group of individuals to a coherent, expanding community with its
own identity and institutions. Internet, moreover, has brought Charedim closer to certain elements
of Israeli culture, which used to reside outside the pale of Charedi society. At the same time,
Religious Zionists have become far more diverse on matters of halachic stringency and the distance
from secular culture to the degree that there are no clear and set norms on these and related matters.
For some, the commitment to religion is very rudimentary, while the halachic observance and
cultural isolation of the Chardal (Charedi-nationalist) sector are indistinguishable from those of
mainstream Charedi society.

Even the more liberal wings of Religious Zionism have moved rightward religiously. It has become
a challenge to find mixed (co-ed) Religious Zionist schools, and many Bnei Akiva branches—to
say nothing of the more religious youth groups—separate the sexes. Women typically cover their
hair, even if minimally and symbolically. Politically, the Religious Zionist community now fully
recognizes the complexity of the state’s secularism. It understands that for the state to be what it
ought to be it needs active religious guidance. Its mere existence, even as the “blossoming of our
redemption,” is not enough

66
Most promising of all, perhaps, is the progress of the Religious Zionist rabbinate and its Batei
Midrash. Yeshiva institutions in the Religious Zionist sector have experienced a renaissance of a
sort of the Charedi Torah world can mimic and benefit from. Merkaz Harav and Yeshivat Har
Etzion are illustrious Batei Midrash, producing impressive figures such as Rav Rimon and Rav
Melamed. Some alumni have gone on to start great institutions of their own, and others have
become prominent scholars in all Torah areas.

Is the Difference Relevant Today?

In light of the convergence just described, we should ask ourselves what, if anything, still justifies
the distance between the Charedi Beis Midrash and the Religious Zionist one. Are our communal
differences still relevant? The fierce philosophical and practical debate over the state, which tore
the religious community apart from within, has long subsided. Both Charedim and Religious
Zionists understand that the State of Israel is not (yet, at least) the anticipated final redemption; at
the same time, it does not preside over some kind of internal exile. Most members of both
communities do not deny the great significance of the state as part of a Divine plan of returning to
Zion. Still, the fact remains that it serves political aims imperfectly rather than miraculously
achieving salvific ones. Given the common ground between them, one can get the sense that our
communities’ alienation is a counter-productive vestige.

The truth, however, is that serious differences remain, and the path to reconciling them is long.
Military service, and the resentment of the religious Zionist sector over Charedi non-participation,
is a profound divider. Moreover, the liberal wings of Religious Zionism, which are part and parcel
of Religious Zionist society, make reconciliation a difficult task. There are too many rabbis in the
Religious Zionist camp whose theological and halachic views are too close for comfort to those of
the American Conservative movement. The association between Religious Zionists who take
religion seriously and those who do not reduces the chance for a rapprochement with Charedim.

67
Right now, and despite the growing political schism within Religious Zionism (accentuated by the
alliance of Naftali Bennet with avowedly secular parties), this remains a single community with
porous boundaries.

The Charedi fear that affiliation with Religious Zionism would channel some of that community’s
liberalism into the Charedi world is understandable, the more so in religious (rather than political)
affairs. However, it seems to me that the complete exclusion of the Religious Zionist Beis Midrash
from the Charedi world, as though Religious Zionists were Tzedukim, is a mistaken policy.
Charedim should learn to distinguish between rabbis and between a society’s subgroups—just as
the Charedi world asks non-Charedim to do concerning its own sectors and leading figures. Even
if maintaining distinct educational systems and Batei Midrash remains legitimate, there is no
reason to refrain from being acquainted with the rich Torah literature that Religious Zionism has
produced. Moreover, much as we flatter ourselves, the dangers of liberalism are present even
within the Charedi camp. Rejecting the Religious Zionist world wholesale does not protect us from
it, and on the contrary, we have much to learn from the more those wings of Religious Zionism
that have strengthened themselves religiously despite strong exposure to elements of liberal culture
and ideology.

It seems to me that despite the differences, both communities would benefit from a cross-
pollination of Batei Midrash, along the lines of Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel. Our differences
should not be ignored, but neither should they be exaggerated. Dialogue, not cold shoulders, is the
response to our decreasing but ongoing estrangement. We share many aims and goals while
disagreeing about strategy and execution. Institutional unification at the moment is neither possible
nor desirable, but mutual understanding may be within our grasp. The convergence produced by
circumstances outside our control should now be advanced through conscious efforts.

In fairness, our communities do not bear equal blame for the lack of dialogue. Serious Religious
Zionists have never denied that they have much to learn from Charedim. They admire our
resistance to secularism, and many Religious Zionist rabbis have studied in Charedi institutions

68
In fairness, our communities do not bear equal blame for the lack of dialogue. Serious Religious
Zionists have never denied that they have much to learn from Charedim. They admire our
resistance to secularism, and many Religious Zionist rabbis have studied in Charedi institutions
(this phenomenon is one-way; few and far between are prominent Charedi rabbis with Religious
Zionist educational pedigrees). To one degree or another, the Religious Zionist community knows
it can benefit from engaging with us; when the two groups of yeshiva students held their joint
panel, no objections were voiced from the Religious Zionist side of the fence.

It seems that it is time for Charedim to recognize that the same is true in the other direction. The
benefits of dialogue I will point out below may strike the Charedi reader as pyrrhic; some may
seem to derive from the very flaws that caused Charedi society to keep Religious Zionism at arm’s
length. It is certainly possible that benefits and flaws are inseparable, whether in their Batei
Midrash or in ours. Yet, we should learn to distinguish between them, critically assessing what is
right and beneficial to import, and what price is appropriate to pay in so doing.

Advantages of the “Other Beis Midrash”

Choice and Love of God: The Religious Zionist community does not assume its youth will be
receptive to their community’s aspirations. As such, Religious Zionist education tries to provide
students with internal motivation to remain religious. Religious Zionist education focuses on love
far more than on fear. For instance, at the Carlebach minyan I attend on Friday night, I see religious
Zionist young men praying with remarkable energy, a countenance of devotion to God on their
faces. Charedi prayer, by contrast, can be cold and fearsome—in particular in its Litvish
incarnations. For those who take to the Charedi style, it may work well; but there is precious little
available for those who would benefit from a more spiritually animated touch. Teaching children
to serve Hashem because they want to rather than (just) because they have to is a strength of
Religious Zionism the Charedi world would do well to replicate.

69
The Religious Zionist approach is not without its dangers. Fear of Heaven is an absolute virtue and
mitzvah observance is an absolute duty. Basing religiosity on personal desire could lead to a
waning of religiosity when personal desire diminishes. But fear of Heaven can wane, too, and
when it does, personal desire is as strong a guarantee as any for continued religious observance. I
myself try to combine the two approaches in my own life and in the lives of my students.

The focus on a personal connection with God has produced a serious study of Emunah in the
Religious Zionist sector. Bible, aggadah, Talmudic philosophy, and the important texts of Jewish
thought supplement lectures in hashkafa from the heads of Religious Zionist yeshivos. The aim is
to know and understand Judaism from within itself, in the spirit of the vision of Rav Shimshon
Rafael Hirsch, who promoted a “self-aware Judaism.”

[O]one of the serious problems in yeshiva education today is students’ lack of familiarity with
the philosophical foundations of Judaism, which can breed misunderstanding of why we learn
Torah in the first place

In general, the Orthodox world heeded the instruction of Rav Hirsch in girls’ education but chose
a conservative approach for boys. There were good reasons for this at the time, which I do not
wish to go into now. But I think one of the serious problems in yeshiva education today is students’
lack of familiarity with the philosophical foundations of Judaism, which can breed
misunderstanding of why we learn Torah in the first place (Rabbi Eliyahu Meir Feivelzon is a
pioneer proponent of a more philosophical bend to yeshiva education in the Charedi space, and I
am a proud member of his school). There’s no need to adopt identical texts to those employed in
Religious Zionist institutions; adopting the general approach is sufficient to make a positive
difference in Charedi education.

Torah Relevance: Besides the serious study of the Jewish faith, the other distinguishing feature
of the Religious Zionist Torah curriculum is its relevance to daily life. The Charedi emphasis
on Torah lishma (“Torah for its own sake”), while admirable, leaves students with a sense that the
Torah is an artifact rather than the animating force of Jewish existence today. We spend an entire

70
yeshiva zeman (term) learning shor shenagach es haparah, though none of us live on a farm,
without asking what tort law means for our own lives. Others as well as I have written about this
topic before (including in this journal). It remains one of the most serious problems facing the
world of Torah education.

The emphasis on Torah’s relevance to daily life has produced several important Religious Zionist
figures and institutions. Uniting them is the desire to translate the Torah into the language of
contemporary society without sacrificing any of our texts’ original vitality. Projects such as the
Pu’ah Institute, the journal Techumin, and the Eretz Hemda Beis Midrash stand out in this regard.
Torah scholars from the Charedi camp have begun to participate in these efforts, though Charedi
society as a whole remains barely acquainted with them.

Here too, there could be costs. The purity of the Torah is tarnished when it is mixed with the
grittiness of the outside world. As much as we would like our surroundings to conform to the
pristine halachic theory of the Beis Midrash, more often than not the reverse occurs, relaxing rules
that should be stringently maintained. This is not true in all cases, and oftentimes there is a need
to strike a balance between halachic stringency and the practical needs of life outside of the study
halls; extreme halachic stringency can be a result of excessive detachment from the world. At any
rate, it is important for us to be aware of the serious project of making the Torah both relevant and
accessible, even if we dispute the rulings of some of its advocates.

Fighting Discrimination: Charedim can learn from Religious Zionism outside of the Beis
Midrash, too. In the Religious Zionist community there is virtually no discrimination between
Ashkenazim and Sefardim, Ethiopians and converts. All are welcomed. Differences between
Sefardi and Ashkenazi halachic traditions are respected, yet the community is not divided by ethnic
lines. Indeed, regular interaction between halachic cultures is mutually enriching. A prime example
of this in a halachic sense is Rabbi Melamed’s very broad halachic work Peninei Halachah.

It can be plausibly argued that the Religious Zionist world has no clear tradition, and its
acceptance of variant streams renders it wishy-washy and religiously weak. Even if this is the

71
case, we can learn and gain from studying Religious Zionism’s strengths without surrendering
our own

Communal pluralism is beneficial even for the Beis Midrash since it opens up the fullness of the
Torah to the student. Halachah, mussar, Chassidus, lomdus—all are legitimate in the Religious
Zionist Batei Midrash, and many yeshiva institutions offer classes in each of these fields,
sometimes from a broad range of teachers. In a Lithuanian yeshiva, by contrast, it is hard to find a
mashgiach who will discuss a Chassidic source or deviate from the tradition of acceptable texts
(Rabbi Dessler’s thought, exceptionally, overflowed with Chassidic material).

But diversity has costs as well as benefits. It can be plausibly argued that the Religious Zionist
world has no clear tradition, and its acceptance of variant streams renders it wishy-washy and
religiously weak. Even if this is the case, we can learn and gain from studying Religious Zionism’s
strengths without surrendering our own. Even if the Charedi community adopts but a small part of
the inclusive and accepting spirit of Religious Zionism, we will have profited much.

Good Citizenship: Lastly, religious Zionism’s spirit of good citizenship has much to teach
Charedim. Corona (and related crises) unequivocally proved the importance of grounding Torah
in derech eretz. The Religious Zionist community sees no tension between the two; religiosity and
good citizenship complement one another, and both are in fact religious duties.

Of course, this strength is a direct result of one of the deepest differences between Charedim and
Religious Zionists: their respective attitude to the state. But as I said from the outset: the strong
points and weak points of each community stem from the same roots. Charedim do not have to
adopt the state-centered approach of the Religious Zionist community, but they could benefit
greatly from adopting their respectful stance towards it. Even if we assume the state is not
necessarily the “beginning of the redemption” or the “foundation of Hashem’s seat in the world,”
we still need to be good citizens, both for prudential reasons and because the principles of derech
eretz demand it.

72
Our primary goal in this world is to extend the sovereignty of God’s holiness. This ambitious aim
requires the basic unity of those faithful to God’s Torah––a unity that needn’t flatten or blur
legitimate differences but must bring us together despite our differences. Indeed, a significant part
of our tradition is the maintenance of differences for the sake of Heaven. But disputes for the sake
of Heaven are always between respectful peers, rather than between hostile opponents. This
communication and conversation, in a spirit of Jewish unity, will strengthen all parties: “Efraim
shall not envy Yehudah, and Yehudah shall not besiege Efraim.”

A Journey into the world of Hillel and Shammai

Siyum Chagigah/Likkutei Sichos Terumah: Hadran by the Lubavitcher Rebbe on Mesechta

A podcast (see below)

The Worlds of Hillel & Shammai: Hadran by the Lubavitcher Rebbe on

73
https://www.listennotes.com/podcasts/featured-lectures/the-worlds-of-hillel-shammai-
E6OXfodrk7w/

74