Rabbi Micah Citrin

June 15, 2007

            Many of us are familiar with the saying, “Two Jews, three opinions.”  We are a people who loves to argue and debate.  Arguing is to Jews what apple pie is to America.  One is inconceivable without the other.  The Talmud itself is our anthology of arguments.  We argue with God, one another, and even ourselves.  We make light of this endearing trait of our people, and yet we have all experienced painful arguments with a loved one; arguments that may lead to raised voices or hurtful words exchanged, a night spent on the couch, or worse a period of estrangement.  In our Torah portion this week, Korah, we have an argument of biblical proportions.

            Korah, a levite, and Datan and Aviram, of the tribe of Reuben accuse Moses and Aaron of abusing their power.  They lash out angrily, “Rav lachem, you have gone too far…Why do you raise yourselves above this congregation?”  Moses, shocked at this accusation, humbly bows before Korah and his follows.  Implicated in this dispute, Moses declares that God will resolve the complaint.  But Moses also does not back down.  Moses fires back with the same rhetoric that Korah used, “Rav lachem bnai levi, You have gone to far sons of Levi.”  Moses reminds Korah and his followers that power has been invested in them as they perform the duties of the tabernacle.  Moses doubts the purity of Korah’s intentions and suspects that Korah cares little about the congregation’s status, but only his own.  Moses tries to respond to Dathan and Aviram’s grievances as well, but they refuse to speak with Moses.  They give Moses the silent treatment and this never brings resolution.  It appears that there is no conversation that can solve this dispute.  In the end, God makes the earth open up and swallow Korah, Dathan, Aviram, and their followers.  The argument is over.

            What is the lesson of this story?  Is argument and conflict to be avoided or repressed?  Do we learn that arguing with those in authority is bad or inappropriate?  That does not seem very Jewish.  No, the Torah is trying to tell us something else about conflict, and it is a lesson that develops within the tradition.  Judaism teaches that an argument can be holy or it can be unholy.  It can be productive or it can be destructive.  The character of an argument depends on the motivations of those involved, and the manner by which the parties go about resolving their conflict.

            How do we know if we bring holy intent and motivations to an argument?  What is the Jewish version of fighting fair?  The rabbis of the Mishnah held the episode of Korah as a measuring stick for conflicts.  Mishnah Pirke Avot (5:17), the rabbinic collection of ethics, teaches, “Any conflict that is resolved for the sake of Heaven, l’shem shammayim, shall in the end be resolved.  Which controversy is for the sake of Heaven?  The conflict between Hillel and Shammai?  Which controversy was not for the sake of heaven?  The controversy of Korah and his band.”  Now we have learned what does not constitute a conflict l’shem shammayim.  Like Korah, it is an argument that only reflects self interest and self centered gain.  Such an argument does not consider the other, strive toward a sense of holiness, or show consideration for the wholeness of those involved.  As the Hebrew word for argument suggests, machloket, an argument, can be divisive, it can tear people apart.

            Hillel and Shammai, on the other hand, stand out as our tradition’s shining example of argument l’shem shammayim- for the sake of heaven.  Hillel and Shammai, the two most prominent rabbis of the 1^st c BCE could not agree on anything, and consistently had opposing understandings of Jewish law.  One story in the Talmud (Eruvin 13 b) explains that Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai disputed for 3 years over a matter of halacha each claiming that the true halacha was according to its interpretation.  Finally a heavenly voice came forth and said, both sides of the argument were true, divrei elohim hayim, words of the living God, but that the halacha was to stand according to the house of Hillel.  The Talmud goes on to ask, Nu, if both are right, how come the school of Hillel “wins” the argument?  The Talmud explains that beit Hillel was humble in its argumentation and that they even taught the teachings of Beit Shammai to their students.  Not only that but out of respect they would teach Shammai’s perspective first and then their own.

            Argument l’shem shamayim, such as Hille and Shammai’s, argument that is elevated and for a higher purpose, this is the Jewish version of fighting fair, this is holy.  It is the ideal toward which our tradition strives.  Hillel and Shammai did not shy away from the conflict that existed, and they never stopped speaking to one another.  In fact, they argued for 3 years.  Yet there existed an inherent respect for the other, and a mutual commitment to a unifying goal; getting the law right.  And as the story teaches, they were both correct.  Each side had undeniable merit.  But Beit Hillel stands out because it understood the perspective of the other, Beit Shammai, and could articulate this perspective with sensitivity.  In the words of Stephen Covey, author of THE SEVEN HABITS OF HIGHLY EFFECTIVE PEOPLE, Hillel sought to understand first and then to be understood.  Furthermore, Beit Hillel, approached its own case and its own standing with a sense of humility.

            It is hard to go through life without conflict, without machloket.  Anyone who has a parent or child, spouse or friend knows this.  The secret to good Jewish argument is two-fold.  First, when we have conflict with a loved one, we must strive to make it l’shem shamayim, for the holy purpose of bringing resolve, and if not resolve then understanding and shalom, balance.  It is too easy to allow the argument to become destructive, to focus on forcing the other into submission.  In this case, like Korah and his followers we become swallowed up, not by the earth, but by our anger, antipathy, and insensitivity.  There is no winner.  Second, in good Jewish argument the existence of two opposing sides is an illusion.  If it is l’shem shamayim then there is a common uniting principle.  The two sides should have common ground in recognizing the other’s feelings and point of view.  The common ground is a mutual commitment toward maintaining a positive relationship, and through the argument, enabling the relationship to progress. 

            The word machloket conflict in Hebrew does mean to divide, and that is what our arguments have the potential to do.  Yet, Embedded within the word machloket is the word chelek, a part or a piece.  We and our verbal sparring partner are two parts of a greater whole.  We win the argument if each party comes out whole, dignity intact, and strengthened from the encounter.