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June 19, 2021
Author(s): Rav Hazzan Aliza Berger,
Parshat Chukat
June 19, 2021 – 9 Tammuz 5781
The Lesson of Achnai’s Oven
with Rav Hazzan Aliza Berger
Temple Emanuel, Newton, MA
This week, I was speaking with one of our graduating seniors and he shared a story with me that I just can’t stop thinking about.
He was at a graduation party. During the festivities, he hears some kid opining about how Jews are the worst and Israel has no right to exist. His blood immediately boils, and he rushes to confront the offender. He asks the kid, “how can you say that? That’s so Anti-Semitic.” The room falls silent. Everyone is watching and listening. No one says anything. This other kid continues unperturbed. Our graduate argues with him and yells until he is so angry and so hurt that he leaves the party.
Another story. In May, during the worst of the violence in Israel, a young adult who is converting to Judaism reached out to me to talk about what was happening in Gaza. She told me her friends were all hateful quotes and videos on social media and she felt caught. She unfriended a few people she wasn’t close with who were posting terrible things, but some of her closest friends were also posting problematic videos and memes. It was making her sick. She told me that she tried talking to some of her friends about it, but she didn’t know enough yet to make a compelling case and the whole situation left her feeling anxious and stressed. She wanted to know, if she was going to be a good Jew and a good Zionist, what should she do?
I have these conversations all the time. Every week I hear from young people who are caught in social situations where it seems like everyone in the room is aligned against Israel and they feel like they have to choose between standing up for Israel or protecting their relationships and social standing.
And I worry. I worry about the burden that these young people feel—that the fate of Israel rests on their shoulders. I worry that our young adults have an over-simplistic view of Israel that makes them see the world in black and white and doesn’t allow for nuances and gray. I worry that social media has taught our children that standing up for what you believe in requires making a scene and publicly tearing down the other side. More than anything, I fear that these types of interactions simply entrench the conversation further in oppositional echo chambers.
There is a great and very famous story that appears in the Talmud called the Oven of Achnai. In the story, rabbis are arguing about the status of an oven. Rabbi Eliezer ben Hurcanus says the oven is kosher. The other rabbis are convinced it’s not. Rabbi Eliezer tries every bit of logic he has to persuade that the oven is kosher. He throws science at them, thoughtful pilpul with relevant sources and brilliant interpretations, he brings psychology and engineering, but no matter how brilliant his ideas, or how relevant his interpretations, the other rabbis won’t budge.
So, Rabbi Eliezer tries a different tactic. He says, “if the halacha is as I say, and if this oven is indeed kosher, let this carob tree prove it.” Immediately the carob tree is uprooted from the ground as if a Divine hand had plucked it up.
The rabbis are unmoved. They say, “halacha isn’t proven by a carob tree.”
Rabbi Eliezer says, “fine. If the halacha is as I say, let the stream prove it.” Immediately, the stream stops in its tracks and then the water begins to flow upstream.
Again, the rabbis are unmoved. They say, “halacha isn’t determined by a stream.”
Rabbi Eliezer tries again. “If the halacha is as I say, then let the walls of the beit midrash prove it.” Immediately, the walls begin to cave in.
The rabbis dodge falling plaster but remain stoic. They say halacha isn’t determined by walls.
Finally, Rabbi Eliezer calls out, “if I’m right, heaven will prove so.” Immediately a Divine voice emanates from above: “Everything Rabbi Eliezer says is true. The halacha is in accordance with the teachings of Rabbi Eliezer.”
At this point, Rabbi Eliezer thinks he has finally won. Who could disregard a Divine voice emanating from the heavens?
But the rabbis remain unmoved. They say, “לא בשמים היא” halacha is not decided in the heavens.
In other words, even though Rabbi Eliezer was right, even though his opinion was an expression of God’s truth and God’s Torah, being right didn’t matter. What mattered was how the other rabbis felt. What mattered was his relationship with them. What mattered was how the conversation unfolded.
I think of this when I speak to our teens and to our young adults. You can be totally right, and it is always right to stand up against Anti-Semitism, but what happens if no one will listen to you?
Does it help Israel if you make a big scene at a party and go home furious because some kid was ranting and raving hateful speech about Israel?
Does it help Israel if you unfriend everyone you know on social media and create a more favorable echo chamber?
After the Oven of Achnai, the rabbis ostracized Rabbi Eliezer ostensibly to avoid future disagreements. Rabbi Eliezer lost his position, his influence, and his community. For nothing.
And yet, the story could have turned out differently.
What if, instead of publicly shaming the other rabbis, instead of trying to force them to admit they were wrong, he had said, “you know, I disagree with you, but I would like to take some time to think about your ideas. Could we continue the conversation later?” What if he went and had private conversations with each of them, taking their ideas seriously and asking them to hear him out? If he had engaged them thoughtfully, in a private moment, would the public moment have evolved differently? Could they have heard him?
In May, as violence broke out in Israel, Anti-Semitism exploded on campuses around the country. At Vanderbilt University, my alma mater, the student government put out a statement against Israel. It was in all the local papers. The offensive tone and content of the initial statement. The weak response by the school administrators and faculty. The intense conversations in student publications and between student groups.
But what did not make the news was the communal response. As soon as the student government put out their notice, the Jewish community mobilized. Elders in the community came forward and asked for meetings with student government representatives. Community leaders reached out to administrators and faculty to find times to meet one on one and as groups. When the university sent out an apologetic letter, this group said thank you, can we keep meeting? Can you come to Shabbos dinner? Can we continue this conversation?
At Vanderbilt, they didn’t solve the problem of Anti-Semitism forever, but they did solve the problem of disconnection. They solved fractured relationships and echo chambers. And those conversations, I have no doubt, are on their way to creating a better, more supportive campus environment.
Ultimately, that is the lesson of Achnai’s oven: It’s good to be right, but even more important to be right with people.