The entire rabbinic enterprise is built upon an assumption of the accuracy of transmitted oral traditions. Rabbis are bound to the wording of the traditions they receive. However, this does not stop the rabbis from interpreting texts in ways that seem to violate authorial intent. From a modern perspective this may seem problematic, but creative interpretation was understood as a legitimate mechanism for achieving a desired outcome. While this already may reflect a case of rewriting history, in this paper I treat an even more egregious set of examples marked by the phrases חסורי מיחסרא והכי קתני and אלא אי איתמר הכי איתמר – “the text is lacking and should be taught thus” and “if [this tradition] was stated, it was stated thus.”  Both of these phrases provide an alternative wording for an earlier rabbinic tradition in order to make it conform with a desired interpretation. I argue that these phrases violate the core rabbinic value of accuracy of transmission by acknowledging that the received wording of a statement cannot be contorted to fit a desired interpretation, and nevertheless rewriting it – even when there are other viable interpretations still under consideration. These cases shed light on how the rabbis thought about the key issues of history and truth.

In recent years, reports of political corruption, abuses of power, and the promulgation of lies have dominated contemporary news and social media. The accusation of “false facts” and the growing perception of the distortion of events has led many scholars to turn their attention to the ways in which truth is created and the public manipulated. Yet, relatively few studies have investigated the nature of social and psychological modes of propaganda in antiquity. Drawing upon the fields of trauma studies, propaganda theory, and rhetorical criticism, in this paper I explore the social-psychological mechanisms the early rabbis employed in order to fashion their vision of reality. My analysis revolves around a pair of passages in Mishna and Tosefta Sotah in which references to the deaths of the founding rabbis are interspersed into descriptions of the destruction of the Temple and the proliferation of murders. I argue that this rhetorical construction establishes the demise of the rabbis as global traumas, which serve as conceptual echoes of the catastrophic epicenter of the collapse of Jewish sovereignty. My examination of these early rabbinic passages draws upon the foundational work of Cathy Caruth and Greg Forter in trauma studies as well as Richard Hidary’s recent work on rabbinic rhetoric, and stands in dialogue with Julia Watts Belser and Jill Salberg’s recent syntheses of gender, trauma, and rabbinic literature. While my analysis builds upon discussions of the rabbinic construction of authority, this paper charts new territory by focuses on the psychological dimension of rabbinic propaganda and by asking how non-rabbinic Jews of the early rabbinic period might have encountered and reacted to the rabbinic rhetoric of trauma.

It is well known that the rabbinic movement arose in the wake of the destruction of the Second Temple. In this paper I explore the question of how the early rabbis capitalized on this and other catastrophes in order to further their agenda. Drawing upon the fields of trauma and propaganda studies, I examine an extended passage from Mishna Sotah in which references to the deaths of the founding rabbis are interspersed into descriptions of the destruction of the Temple and the proliferation of murders. I argue that this rhetorical move establishes the demise of the rabbis as a global trauma, forging a useful tool in the early rabbinic arsenal of propaganda for claiming religious authority. My analysis of this passage draws upon the foundational work of Cathy Caruth and Greg Forter in trauma studies and stands in dialogue with Julia Watts Belser and Jill Salberg’s recent syntheses of gender, trauma, and rabbinic literature. This initial study forms the backbone of my next project, which explores the ways in which the rabbis constructed and transmitted knowledge through propaganda, deception, and censorship.

My proposed paper seeks to challenge the widespread assumption held by scholars across the Humanities that a defining feature of Midrash is the proffering of multiple, sometimes contradictory, interpretations of the Biblical text.  Particularly pronounced in the wake of postmodern reading practices, this feature of rabbinic Midrash diverges from many other forms of literature and thus garnered attention, leading to an exaggeration of the centrality of this characteristic.  Consequently, Midrash is frequently conceptualized as an open-ended process that lauds polysemy.  In opposition to this common premise, I demonstrate that the propensity to maintain multiple, irreconcilable interpretative possibilities is in fact a somewhat marginal aspect of the extant midrashic collections.  Far more prominent in these works are the negation of potential meanings and the underlying assumption of a single authoritative reading of biblical sources.  Through a quantitative comparison of the examples in which Midrashim propose multiple interpretations and the overwhelming number of cases in which these works assert a singular understanding, this paper redefines the way we think about the essential features of the genre of Midrash.

After presenting my quantitative argument and surveying the multiple ways through which early Midrashim limit interpretative possibilities, I turn to a comparison with other exegetical traditions in Late Antiquity.  I suggest that while the Dead Sea Scrolls (particularly the Pesharim) and early Christian interpretative works also employ limitation of possible meanings, there is a significant difference between these exegetical texts and Midrash.  The Pesharim and early Christian interpretations tend to employ implicit rejections of meaning by asserting the proper understanding of a passage.  By contrast, a common feature in early rabbinic Midrashim is the explicit positing and rejection of possible interpretations. This comparison suggests that the explicit rejection of interpretive possibilities is a defining feature of Midrash that distinguishes it from other works of interpretation in Late Antiquity.

This paper seeks to upend the widespread assumption held by scholars across the Humanities that a defining feature of Midrash is the proffering of multiple, sometimes contradictory, interpretations of the Biblical text.  Particularly pronounced in the wake of postmodern reading practices, this feature of rabbinic Midrash diverges from many other forms of literature and thus garnered attention, leading to an exaggeration of the centrality of this characteristic.  Consequently, Midrash is frequently conceptualized as an open-ended process that lauds polysemy.  In opposition to this common premise, I demonstrate that the propensity to maintain multiple, irreconcilable interpretative possibilities is in fact a marginal aspect of the extant midrashic collections.  Far more prominent in these works are the negation of potential meanings and the underlying assumption of a single authoritative reading of Biblical sources.  Through a quantitative comparison of the examples in which Midrashim propose multiple interpretations and the overwhelming number of cases in which these works assert a singular understanding, this paper redefines the way we think about the essential features of the genre of Midrash.

Often traditional readers of the Talmud approach this work as an essentially legal text geared toward determining proper Jewish praxis. Yet, when we step back from the minutiae of argumentation and consider the broader context of Talmudic discourse, we discover a far more nuanced conversation engaged in a delicate balance of competing values. In this paper I explore a Talmudic passage that grapples with the very core of what it means to be an ethical individual. Tractate Arakhin 16b seeks to unpack the scope of the biblical obligation to reprove one’s fellow for wrongdoing (Lev. 19:17). The main portion of the sugya is bracketed at its outset by a midrashic interpretation of Leviticus 19:17, which explicates the extreme actions a person rebuking someone is obligated to take, and at the sugya’s close by a parallel set of extreme actions that mark the endpoint of fulfilling one’s responsibility. However, the core of the passage problematizes the act of rebuke on two fronts – human inability and an overriding preference for humility. I argue that this complex sugya navigates a fundamental ethical issue: Whether the ideal ethical individual is self-oriented or other-oriented. That is to say, whether one should focus upon the interpersonal obligation of confronting others or if a person should devote their attention to self-improvement toward achieving a high level of personal piety.  I suggest that this debate is not limited to the rabbis of Sassanian Persia, but can also be found in semi-contemporary groups such as the early Christian monks of Egypt and Syria. Unpacking the competing values underlying this Talmudic passage thus provides us with a glimpse into a broad cultural controversy that continues to resonate with modern ethical sensibilities.

In this paper I examine the tension between the desire to correct others and the aspiration to cultivate a humble self in rabbinic and monastic sources.  Analyzing two texts from each tradition, one promoting humility over rebuke and the other extolling rebuke, I demonstrate how these corpora both engaged in a similar discourse.  I argue that the parallels point to a shared debate over the proper form of the ethical self while the differences reflect disparate conceptions of community.

In this paper I describe the parameters of my next project focusing on the importance of limitation in rabbinic interpretation.  I then provide an example of the first of these topics revolving around the late rabbinic interpretative technique of חסורי מחסרא (the text is lacking).  Examining the implications of this hermeneutical principle I show how it reveals rabbinic recognition that there is a limitation to the ascription of meaning to texts.  Finally I consider the implications of this usage for the rabbinic understanding of the relationship between scriptural and non-scriptural texts.

What obligation does a person have to publically respond to problematic behavior?  Does confronting others undermine attempts at personal piety or breach the boundaries of one’s position?  These questions point to a core tension between two ethical impulses – the desire to challenge others’ improper practices and the aspiration to cultivate a humble self that respects others’ religious and intellectual freedom.  In this paper I begin by examining and comparing the engagement with this tension by rabbinic and monastic figures in Late Antiquity.  Extrapolating from these early Jewish and Christian sources, the latter portion of my paper turns to the contemporary academic context where this discussion manifests itself as a tension between denouncing morally improper behavior of public figures and maintaining critical scholarly distance which detaches teaching from one’s personal sense of ethics.

When considering the rhetorical structure of the Sermon on the Mount, Hans Dieter Betz has noted that, “There clearly appears to be rationale behind the six antitheses and their arrangement in the [Sermon on the Mount], but that rationale has so far eluded scholarship; few scholars have even discussed the question” (Betz, The Sermon on the Mount, 201). In this paper I address Betz’s question by identifying two parallel sources that similarly juxtapose materials underlying the last three antitheses, suggesting that the combination found in Matthew draws upon a related tradition.  Building upon earlier research where I demonstrate that the fifth and sixth antitheses reflect a Second Temple Period interpretation of Lev. 19:17-18, in the present paper I demonstrate how Jewish sources often discuss these two biblical verses in tandem with the topic of oaths (the focus on the fourth antithesis).  Examining passages from the Damascus Document and the Testament of Gad, I show how each of these sources connects the theme of oaths to a discussion of Lev. 19:17-18.  Although Matthew and these two Second Temple period texts employ divergent rationales for linking a discussion of Lev. 19:17-18 and oaths, the presence of a connection between them speaks to a shared tradition that may have informed the order and organization of the Matthean antitheses.  In addition to advancing our understanding of the thematic organization of the Sermon on the Mount, this paper also argues for a broader mode of textual comparison between Jewish and Christian texts from Late Antiquity by looking to larger thematic structures rather than individual pericopae.

Prominently placed among the ethical injunctions of Lev. 19, the biblical commandment to rebuke one’s fellow carries the potential for functioning as one of the most important interpersonal obligations: “You shall not hate your kinsfolk in your heart.  Reprove your kinsman, but incur no guilt because of him” (Lev. 19:17).  Juxtaposed with the admonishment not to harbor hatred, the mitzvah of rebuke simultaneously seeks to dispel resentment and encourage proper social behavior.  Yet, as we move into the world of the rabbis, the force of this interpersonal duty sharply declines.  In this paper I trace the evolution of interpersonal responsibility through the lens of the commandment of rebuke.  I demonstrate how the earliest rabbis already evince concern over the possibility of fulfilling this demanding requirement and by the time of the Talmud the rabbis argue against its performance.  However, as we leave the classical rabbinic period we encounter a resurgence in the importance of this mitzvah.  Positing various social, political, and theological factors which may be at play in the early evolution of tokheḥa, this paper explores the clash between the ideal and the feasible lurking behind the halakhic requirement for interpersonal corrective responsibility.

One of the major topics of philosophical discourse bridging the last few centuries B.C.E. and the first few centuries of the Common Era was the issue of interpersonal responsibility within the context of friendship.  Philosophers including Philodemus and Plutarch devoted significant attention to the idea of Parrhesia (or “speaking the truth”) as the mark of a true friend.  This act of interpersonal truth-telling was described as “Socratic Parrhesia” by Foucault in a series of lectures where he suggested that the primary problem surrounding this practice was the question of how one constitutes oneself as a knower of truth by aligning one’s truth with one’s life.  In this paper I bring the philosophic concept of Socratic Parrhesia into dialogue with the rabbinic discussion of the commandment to rebuke (Lev. 19:17), highlighting how both practices involve elements of truth, danger, obligation, and criticism.  I argue that the rabbinic understanding of the biblical obligation to rebuke serves as an important heuristic parallel to Parrhesia which allows us to perceive a striking development in the history of the problematization of the practice of Parrhesia.  In contrast to the focus on the problem of truth within the Greco-Roman world, in later rabbinic discourse rebuke presents a different set of concerns revolving around the priority of the self over the other.  Studying the discussions of Socratic Parrhesia and rabbinic rebuke in tandem allows us to not only better understand the particularity of each of these two intellectual projects as they grapple with a shared interpersonal dynamic, but also enables us to trace the evolution of a common practice across the ancient world.

The early Palestinian rabbis and the Egyptian monks of the first few centuries of the Common Era both evince a strong valuation of silence.  Drawing upon a variety of sources which endorse the use of silence, in this paper I explore the ways in which silence or silencing others constitutes a mode of understanding in Late Antiquity.  Specifically, I focus on the ways in which silence contributes to self-understanding, how it can prevent the possibility of misunderstanding, and how silence is understood within a legal framework.  Many monastic passages recommend pursuing silence as a means of escaping from the temptations of the world in order to focus one’s attention inward and achieve a higher level of understanding.  In contrast to this use of silence, early rabbinic literature includes a discussion of silencing others in order to avoid potential theological misunderstandings, especially within the realm of liturgy.  In addition, rabbinic sources also discuss a variety of instances in which remaining silent has critical judicial ramifications, prompting some rabbis to urge those in such a predicament to either keep quiet or speak up.  Viewing these examples as a whole, I argue that silence and silencing provide an important counter discourse to the prevailing media of the spoken or written word.  As a highly versatility mode of communication, silence presents an alternative avenue for exploring multiple dimensions of understanding.

One of the key ongoing discussions within the field of rabbinics is the question of the editing, redaction and transmission of the Babylonian Talmud.  At what point in time, or during what period(s), did this corpus come together as a concrete work?  Tractate Temurah offers an unusual perspective on this issue.  The extant form of this tractate preserves a core amoraic and stammaitic discussion interspersed with alternative versions introduced with the words lishana aḥarina.  Previously, Jacob Nahum Epstein and Eliezer Shimshon Rosenthal argued that the core discussion and the lishana aḥarina material represent two different versions of this tractate which were compiled in the academies of Sura and Pumbedita.  However, recently discovered binding fragments of this tractate in the New York University Library call this hypothesis into question.  In this paper I will show how the lishana aḥarina material preserved in the NYU fragments often diverges from that which is found in other extant talmudic manuscripts.  This divergence suggests that either there were multiple editors who selected different material in their collated editions, or that there were more than two versions of this tractate circulating in antiquity.  The evidence from these fragments compels us to reconsider the redaction history of this tractate and the editing of the Talmud more broadly.

When is a Jew to speak and when must they remain silent?  Is it possible to chastise one’s peers without sliding into anger and arrogance?  The rabbis of late antiquity struggled with these questions in confronting the Levitical commandment to rebuke one’s fellow (Lev. 19:17).  Their ensuing discussion weaves together the prominent themes of humility, silence and speech ethics as they endeavored to carve out space for an appropriate Jewish language of rebuke.  In this paper I argue that while the rabbis of the Talmud felt compelled by the biblical commandment of rebuke to speak out against transgressive behavior, they simultaneously evinced a strong discomfort with the dangers of such language and its relation to improper speech (lashon ha’ra), ultimately leading them to a preference for humble silence.

In tractate Arachin of the Babylonian Talmud we find an extended debate on the parameters of improper speech (lashon ha’ra).  This leads directly into a confrontation with the biblical injunction of rebuke which ostensibly demands negative language.  Several rabbis bemoan the fact that no one of their generation is capable of giving or receiving proper reprimand, a proposition dismissed by Rabbi Yochanan ben Nuri who asserts that he rebuked Rabbi Akiva on many occasions, engendering a response of love.  This dispute, which can be traced back to the second century Hebrew work Sifra, embodies the fundamental challenge underlying the construction of an appropriate Jewish discourse of correction among peers.  How is one to navigate the tightrope of constructive criticism from which both parties can emerge enriched?  This controversy is immediately expanded by the question of whether proper rebuke (tochacha lishma) or improper humility (anavah shelo lishma) is superior.  The juxtaposition of these tasks reflects a basic religious tension between ensuring the proper praxis of one’s fellows while simultaneously cultivating a personal ethic of submission and modesty.  A single enigmatic example is proffered to contrast these two extremes before the Talmud shifts to a delineation of the boundaries of rebuke itself.

The rich passage described above forms the basis of my paper in which I demonstrate how the rabbis sought to balance the personal and communal obligation of responding to deviance and misbehavior while avoiding embarrassment and fostering humility as a crucial trait for Jewish identity.  The text’s clash between the biblical obligation to chastise and a moral imperative to avoid slander ultimately leaves us with a tacit nod toward the possibility of a diversity of practices by shunning the confrontation of others for “deviant” behavior.  In this way the rabbis embrace silence and a form of Jewish pluralism over and against the divine command to challenge divergence.

Within the Palestinian rabbinic academy the predominant educational approach was exemplified by oral recitation and transmission of traditions.  However, upon close examination of rabbinic sources the presence of a competing mode of discourse appears.  In contrast to the verbose model of verbal repetition, the rabbis conveyed an alternative pedagogy based upon the idea of the teacher as an exemplar for proper practice rather than simply a storehouse of knowledge.  In this paper I explore the tension between these two competing paradigms, particularly as it emerges from the polarity between verbal transmission and the act of remaining silent in the face of confrontation as a model for imitation.  I argue that the valuation of silence within rabbinic circles constitutes a counter pedagogical discourse drawing strength from contemporaneous monastic culture which similarly emphasized the importance of silence.  Surveying a number of monastic sources which promote silence as a general ascetic practice, and particularly the role of silence as an educational model for imitation, I demonstrate how these traditions illuminate the minority voice within those Palestinian rabbinic sources that endorses silence.  Understanding the multidimensional role of silence within monastic sayings allows us to appreciate how leadership by silent example, rather than through verbal dictation of proper praxis, also proves to be an important model for teaching within rabbinic sources.  Ultimately I conclude that together the verbal model of transmission and the exemplar approach of modeling silence serve as complimentary modes of instruction for early Palestinian rabbis.

In her 2001 article, “The Didascalia Apostolorum: A Mishnah for the Disciples of Jesus,” Charlotte Fonrobert argued that the 3^rd century church order known as the Didascalia Apostolorum should be considered as a type of “Mishna” oriented toward a Christian or “Jewish-Christian” population.  Highlighting their “shared discursive space” and similar approach to biblical hermeneutics, Fonrobert juxtaposed these two works to demonstrate parallel constructions of religious authority and identity.  While these two collections certainly bear some affinity vis-à-vis their projects of asserting religious and exegetical hegemony, when we move beyond the issue of authority we encounter a dramatic divergence between the disparate conceptions of the past each of these works fashions.

The most striking difference between the Didascalia and the Mishna can be seen in the distinctive ways in which they incorporate traditions – whether scriptural interpretations or later prescriptive assertions.  While the former harnesses earlier material in an effort to convey a monolithic tradition within a more univocal presentation, the latter adduces a cacophony of distinct positions, offering a more dialogical formulation that allows for debate.  These distinct approaches to textual transmission speak to a crucial difference between the Didascalia and the Mishna’s visions for their audiences.  Following the work of Mikhail Bakhtin and Yuri Lotman, I argue that the Didascalia’s unified voice seeks to portray a stable and static tradition that must be upheld in the present while the Mishna’s dialogical format recognizes the importance of multivocality, encouraging originality and creativity in the preservation and transmission of the past.

Increasingly scholars have sought to contextualize the Babylonian Talmud against the backdrop of its ambient cultures.  Over the past twenty years, growing interest in Zoroastrian material has profitably elucidated various enigmatic rabbinic passages.  More recently, scholarship has begun to turn to other bodies of literature, such as the Apophthegmata Patrum (or Sayings of the Desert Fathers) and other collections of monastic traditions.  Advancing this developing trend, the current paper draws upon numerous Christian monastic sayings to explain why a particular talmudic passage takes the unusual step of juxtaposing biblical and rabbinic values with a clear preference for the latter.  Considering the rabbinic text in light of monastic parallels brings several latent elements within the sugya to the fore and highlights a conceptual shift from tannaitic to amoraic treatment of the issue at hand.

While the Tannaim reject the biblical obligation of rebuke (Lev. 19:17) due to the inability of members of their generation to properly perform the act, the Amoraim pose the novel question of whether one should even pursue this course of action in the first place.  Comparing rebuke and humility, the rabbis ultimately extol the virtue of the latter despite the biblical pedigree of the former.  What leads these figures to reject this scriptural injunction?  Turning to a monastic context, we find a similar deliberation over cultivating personal humility and the opposing ethical responsibility to chastise others, where the former regularly trumps the latter.  Correlating these Christian sources with the Talmudic sugya we can understand why the issue of humility is contrasted with, and extolled above, rebuke.  Moreover, once we begin considering the relevant sugya in this light, its ascetic features move to the foreground and we find evidence of a broader effort to focus on personal development rather than critiquing others.

During the Second Temple Period the biblical commandment to rebuke one’s fellow (Lev. 19:17) marked a significant point of contention between various sources with some thoroughly embracing the responsibility and others utterly rejecting it.  With the emergence of the rabbinic period we find that the earliest midrash on Leviticus, Sifra, preserves both an exegetical interpretation of the verse delineating the extent of rebuke and the voices of several prominent tannaim who declare it inoperative.  In this paper I turn to two later rabbinic receptions of Lev. 19:17 and the Sifra’s interpretative tradition which similarly present dramatically divergent visions for the role and value of rebuke.  Comparing the extended discussions of rebuke in BT Arakhin 16b and the printed edition of Tanḥuma Mishpatim 7, I examine their respective choices of which materials to include and exclude in conjunction with the rhetorical placement of each passage.  In contrast to the Bavli which positions its discussion of rebuke after a lengthy sugya concerning improper speech and brings the obligation of rebuke into dialogue with the importance of humility, Tanḥuma introduces the topic of rebuke after emphasizing the need for proper judging and inserts a lengthy approbation of rebuke paralleled by BT Shabbat 54b-55a.  Based upon my analysis of the rhetorical construction of these literary units, I argue that while the discussion in Tanḥuma consistently affirms the necessity of reproof, the passage in the Bavli preserves a mixed message revealing rabbinic anxiety over the dangerous yet obligatory nature of rebuke.

In this paper I compare early Egyptian monastic traditions (c. 3^rd – 5^th cen. C.E.) with Jewish sources from the Sassanian Empire (c. 4^th – 7^th cen. C.E.) on the key issue of whether one should engage in, or refrain from, correcting another’s transgressive behavior.  Analyzing several pivotal passages, I demonstrate how both corpora contain a variety of voices that recognize the value of fraternal reproof while simultaneously rejecting such a practice in pursuit of cultivating a more humble persona.

For some of the desert fathers, not rebuking a sinning brother was tantamount to taking his life.  For others, the uncertainty of a sinner’s intent and the haughtiness of instigating confrontation prompted a condemnation of reproof.  Similarly, within rabbinic circles, we find texts declaring one who refrains from challenging adverse behavior as responsible for the sin himself and other texts rejecting rebuke as a dangerous and conceited activity.  Bringing these parallels into dialogue provides insight into the comparable diversity of Jewish and Christian elite communities of this period.  Furthermore, this investigation allows us to witness the spread of ascetic ideals among minority religious communities in the Near and Middle East from Late Antiquity through the early Middle Ages.

Leviticus 19:17 problematically condemns harboring hatred against one’s fellow and encourages an angered party to channel his or her intense emotions into a productive act of rebuke.  But how is it practically possible to regulate any internal feelings, let alone such a negative and spontaneous reaction?  Jewish and Christian texts from the second temple period and first few centuries C.E. proffer a variety of different responses to this challenge.  The Damascus Document, discovered among the Dead Sea Scrolls, recommends reproving in “truth, humility and loving-kindness” while avoiding anger and grumbling.  This commandment is integrated into the heart of the sect’s legal system, serving as a mechanism for ensuring obedience.  In contrast to the Qumran approach, the early rabbinic MIDRASH, SIFRA, reads the Levitical verse as encouraging cursing, hitting, or slapping, prompting the early rabbis to fiercely reject the possibility of reproof entirely.  Between these two positions, the Gospel of Matthew recommends two conflicting approaches, including encouragement of rebuke in order to reinforce communal boundaries as well as an exhortation to react submissively by suppressing one’s feelings.  In this paper I describe the diverse spectrum of responses to this biblically mandated channeling of emotion and argue that the way in which each community framed the scriptural directive correlates with their respective political aspirations.  The semi-isolated members of the Qumran center strove to forge a system of complete control over daily life while the culturally insecure position of the early rabbis motivated them to formally recognize the danger of verbal offense.  The mixed message in the Gospel of Matthew reflects the tension between the ideal of love and humility and the practical demands of communal stability.  The juxtaposition of these traditions reveals the divergent ways religious leaders of antiquity grappled with legalizing and performing the scriptural commandment.

In this paper I demonstrate how corrective discipline within the master-disciple relationship of early rabbinic Judaism situates the role of the teacher between the poles of compassionate parent and judicial authority.  Several passages in the Mishna, Tosefta, and Halakhic Midrashim, sandwich the example of a teacher lashing his student between the cases of a father whipping his son and a court-appointed agent flogging a criminal.  This literary juxtaposition conceptually locates the task of the pedagogue as torn between familial intimacy and official impartiality.  Yet, while the very presence of a corporal element may incline us to frame the matter punitively, master-disciple disciplinary lashes actually lie at the outskirts of the penal system and reflect the kinship-like responsibilities of the teacher for his students.  In light of my analysis of these tannaitic sources I argue that discipline in rabbinic Judaism of late antiquity functions as one important means of fashioning disciples through the cultivation of proper qualities.  This constructive model can serve as a paradigm for reorienting our thinking about contemporary classroom discipline not as a means of control or management, but as a tool for fostering greater integrity and responsibility among students.

Scholars have increasing become aware of the lingering ties between the nascent Christian and rabbinic movements in the first few centuries CE.  While our earliest extant rabbinic works only date from the third century many of these compositions contain traditions dating back to the Second Temple Period which can be crucial for our understanding of the Gospels and other New Testament literature.  In this paper I explore an early Jewish exegetical interpretation of Leviticus 19:17-18 preserved in the tannaitic midrash known as Sifra which shares terminology and themes with passages in the Sermon on the Mount and the Sermon on the Plain.  I argue that the authors of these portions of the Gospels were aware of some form of this tradition and that by analyzing the later rabbinic material we can augment our understanding of these New Testament pericopae and their Jewish antecedents.

In commenting on Lev. 19:17, Sifra articulates three permissible modes of rebuke including cursing, hitting, and slapping.  In its gloss on the subsequent verse, Sifra exemplifies the biblical injunction against vengeance and bearing a grudge through the case of lending and borrowing from one’s neighbor.  Matthew 5:38-44 and Luke 6:27-35 invert these two interpretations by presenting Jesus as recommending a passive response to being cursed or slapped and to give and lend freely to all who ask.  The similar juxtaposition of these two ideas and the shared terminology between Sifra and these Gospels suggests a common source.  By reading these New Testament texts in light of this later rabbinic work I advance our understanding of the formation of these well-known passages and illustrate the advantages of cautiously employing rabbinic material for reading earlier Christian works.

Religious leaders throughout the Greco-Roman world warned against the improper use of speech.  Yet, one biblical verse shatters this taboo by mandating confrontational speech with the power to hurt and shame: Leviticus 19:17 commands that one actively rebuke his or her fellow.  For some, such as the Qumran community, the mandate of rebuke functioned as a means of ensuring social control through official regimented reproof.  For others, such as the earliest generations of rabbis, the potential eruptive force of rebuke was far too great prompting them to curtail the application of the verse entirely.  Between these two poles of embrace and rejection some early Christian texts encouraged rebuke as a means to securing communal boundaries, while other passages opted for a non-retaliatory response that forbade any harsh language.  In this paper I describe the diverse spectrum of responses to this biblical injunction and argue that the degree to which each community accepted the scriptural directive correlates with their respective political aspirations.  The semi-isolated members of the Qumran center strove to forge a system of complete control over daily life while the culturally insecure position of the early rabbis motivated them to formally recognize the danger of verbal offense.  The mixed message that we find in the gospels reflects the tension between the ideal of love and humility and the practical demands of communal stability.  The juxtaposition of these traditions reveals the divergent ways religious leaders of antiquity wielded this biblical passage as a means to ensuring their formative goals.

Tannaitic discourse surrounding the biblical commandment to rebuke reveals early rabbinic anxiety over the effectiveness of reproof both as a general act and as a specific scriptural injunction.  In this paper I describe the ways through which the tannaitic midrash known as Sifre Devarim portrays potential negative outcomes from performances of reprimand, highlighting the pitfalls of the act of rebuke.  Based upon these early rabbinic statements I demonstrate how Sifre Devarim effectively circumvents or limits the biblical mandate itself.  In addition, I argue that in attempting to gain control over the practical fallout from rebuke and preventing the fulfillment of this verse, the tannaim simultaneously undermine their own authority.

When is a Jew to speak and when must they remain silent?  Is it possible to chastise one’s peers without sliding into anger and arrogance?  The rabbis of late antiquity struggled with these questions in confronting the Levitical commandment to rebuke one’s fellow (Lev. 19:17).  Their ensuing discussion weaves together the prominent themes of love, humility, and speech ethics as they endeavored to carve out space for an appropriate Jewish language of rebuke.  In this paper I argue that while the rabbis were highly uncomfortable with the potential shaming that could result from an act of rebuke, they nevertheless saw reproof as a social necessity.  In demarcating the contours of rebuke the rabbis shed light on their conception of a Jewish language of rebuke that concurrently refines the rebuker’s own humble character.

In tractate Arachin of the Babylonian Talmud we find an extended debate on the parameters of improper speech (lashon ha’ra).  This leads directly into a confrontation with the biblical injunction of rebuke which ostensibly demands negative language.  Several rabbis bemoan the fact that no one of their generation is capable of giving or receiving proper reprimand, a proposition dismissed by Rabbi Yochanan ben Nuri who asserts that he rebuked Rabbi Akiva on many occasions, engendering a response of love.  This dispute, which can be traced back to the second century Hebrew work Sifra, embodies the fundamental challenge underlying the construction of an appropriate Jewish discourse of correction among peers.  How is one to navigate the tightrope of constructive criticism from which both parties can emerge enriched?  This controversy is immediately expanded by the question of whether proper rebuke (tochacha lishma) or improper humility (anavah shelo lishma) is superior.  The juxtaposition of these tasks reflects a basic religious tension between ensuring the proper praxis of one’s fellows while simultaneously cultivating a personal ethic of submission and modesty.  A single enigmatic example is proffered to contrast these two extremes before the Talmud shifts to a delineation of the boundaries of rebuke itself.

The rich passage described above forms the basis of my paper in which I demonstrate how the rabbis sought to balance the personal and communal obligation of responding to deviance and misbehavior while avoiding embarrassment and fostering humility as a crucial trait for Jewish identity.  The rabbinic ideas of the proper verbal response when confronted with offensive behavior range from silence to an abrasive rhetorical shout of “Don’t you realize that you are bothering me?!”  The spectrum of these decisions for when and how to use language to counter wrongdoing remain vitally pertinent for thinking about suitable chastisement within Jewish contexts today.

My project is to investigate the ways through which various Jewish and Christian composers have presented their thoughts on the parameters of the responsibility to respond to co-religionists who deviate from desired belief and behavior, and to what degree this may reflect actual historical practice.  My goal is not to seek influence and congruence, but rather to understand the ways through which these different biblically-oriented communities all treat a common issue.