I last week's "Five Towns Jewish Times," there was
an article by Rabbi Pinchas Rosenthal, entitled "The Dangers of Midrashim." I feel this article is misguided and wrong, and so I dissect it piece by piece here. His main thesis is that we should make clear to children that midrashim are not to be taken as true accounts, but rather exist to teach moral/ethical/homiletical lessons. And this is the
only correct approach.
One problem, among many, is that I do not believe that this is indeed the attitude of Chazal, or of various Rishonim, when they presented many midrashim, and the resulting reinterpretation of the midrashim and discounting of initial intent is misguided. The easiest way to do away with uncomfortable beliefs/statements is to declare them metaphorical. Anyhow, on to the article:
As part of the interview into high school, I often challenge incoming students with questions that contrast the p’shat of a Chumash story with its Midrashic counterpart. The reaction is always the same: the student looks at me like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck.
In an interview situation, one often feels put on the spot, and that is not the best time for giving reasoned responses to sudden, complex questions. One needs to approach a problem like this calmly, and with access to all the relevant information. To expect a 14-year old kid to answer you
al-regel achat - on one foot - deep philosophical questions such as the relationship between
peshat and
derash - or, for example,
tzadik vera lo, or how Yechezkel can detail laws of
kohanim which seem counter to Torah and
halachic law (see two posts previous) is unfair.
Especially because the kid is nervous already, wants to get into school, and is afraid how her answer will be judged. And she is being interviewed by someone with whom she has (as yet) no social/emotional connection.
Wait until the middle of the year, when she has developed a connection with her teacher, learn the relevant sources which show a difference between
peshat and
derash, and open it up for a class discussion, and you might very well get a different result.
Back to the article:
The other day, the student was an eager young lady named Leah. I asked her the following question: If you were able to go back in time to the moment when Pharaoh’s daughter saw baby Moshe in his basket, what would you see? Would you see Pharaoh’s daughter requesting her maidservant to fetch the basket—as the pasuk tells us—or would you see her arm grow 25 feet long (like Mister Fantastic) and rope in the basket—as the Midrash says?
I felt at that moment as if I had asked Leah to choose between her two parents at a divorce proceeding. She knew that the Torah was an authority and correct and the Midrash was an authority and correct. Her mind was telling her both versions could not be simultaneously true! Therefore, she was frozen and unable to respond.
First, show her the pasuk inside. Show her the midrash inside.
(Before proceeding, let me note that I answer for this specific instance, but I would have to -- and could -- answer for every such instace.)
Secondly, this is a false contrast, between what the pasuk says and what the Midrash says. It is not a difference between what the pasuk says and what the Midrash says. Rather, it is a difference between what one specific peshat interpretation of the pasuk says and what one specific midrashic interpretation of the pasuk says.
The pasuk says {
Shemot 2:5}:
| ה וַתֵּרֶד בַּת-פַּרְעֹה לִרְחֹץ עַל-הַיְאֹר, וְנַעֲרֹתֶיהָ הֹלְכֹת עַל-יַד הַיְאֹר; וַתֵּרֶא אֶת-הַתֵּבָה בְּתוֹךְ הַסּוּף, וַתִּשְׁלַח אֶת-אֲמָתָהּ וַתִּקָּחֶהָ. | 5 And the daughter of Pharaoh came down to bathe in the river; and her maidens walked along by the river-side; and she saw the ark among the flags, and sent her handmaid to fetch it. |
Ignore the English translation for a moment. This English translation is what Rabbi Rosenthal labels "what the Torah says" or "what the pasuk says."
What the Torah says is וַתִּשְׁלַח אֶת-אֲמָתָהּ וַתִּקָּחֶהָ. What does this mean? What does אֲמָתָהּ mean? It turns out that there are two possible meanings for אֲמָתָהּ on the level of peshat, though one might be favored over the other. אֲמָתָהּ can either mean "her maidservant" or "her arm," and this on the level of peshat.
If we understand it to mean that she sent forth her arm, and we add to this the Midrash that her arm extended, there is no contradiction between peshat and derash on this pasuk. Might we say that this is how Chazal understood אֲמָתָהּ? (And then further, that they took she *stretched* out her arm literally.)
To cite
Rashi:
Heb. אֲמָתָהּ, her maidservant. Our Sages (Sotah 12b), however, interpreted it as an expression meaning a hand. [The joint from the elbow to the tip of the middle finger is known as אַמָּה, hence the cubit measure bearing the name, אַמָּה, which is the length of the arm from the elbow to the tip of the middle finger.] Following [the rules of] Hebrew grammar, however, it should have been vowelized אַמָּתָהּ, with a dagesh in the mem. They, however, interpreted אֶתאֲמָתָהּ to mean her hand, [that she stretched out her hand,] and her arm grew many cubits (אַמוֹת) [so that she could reach the basket].
(Note that in characteristic midrashic style,
אֲמָתָהּ is taken to mean multiple things. First, her arm, and second, that it extended many אַמוֹת.)
Now, one might say because of the lack of the dagesh, we cannot say that this is the peshat in the verse. And Rashi seems to say as much. But that does not mean that Chazal (namely, those in Sotah 12b) agreed to this grammatical judgement.
Even if we grant that they considered peshat to be "maidservant" and derash to be "arm," it is not clear that they did not consider the derash to supercede the simple literal meaning of the verse. We are Pharisees, after all, and so were Chazal. They feel that Torah was written by the Author in such a way that there are hidden meanings to verses that may be brought out via hermeneutical methods, middot shehaTorah nidreshet bahen.
As he writes,
"She knew that the Torah was an authority and correct and the Midrash was an authority and correct. Her mind was telling her both versions could not be simultaneously true! Therefore, she was frozen and unable to respond." Yet we might say that the Torah is an authority and correct, and the Midrash is showing what the Torah means. The way he lays it out, it is as if they are in absolute contradiction to one another, rather than the Midrash being a specific interpretation of the text in the Chumash.
There are many different approaches as the relationship of peshat to derash. I suggested above that the derash might supercede the peshat interpretation. Indeed, some commentators might say exactly that. For example, one might say (and if I recall correctly, Saadia Gaon does) that there is not peshat, derash as discrete levels of interpretation. Rather, there is the truth as to what the Torah means. Words carry a range of meaning. If there were no compelling reason to assume otherwise, we can interpret the words literally. If there are problems with the most straightforward rendition, we might explore some of the other implications of meaning that the words carry, and thus arrive at the one true meaning of the text via its "derash" meaning.
That is one possible explanation. One might also simply say that the Torah was given in both Written and Oral form, and together with the Torah was given hermeneutical methods for discovering the meaning. Without applying these midrashic methods, we would get one, "literal," meaning. Using midrashic methods we might discover the Torah's true message.
(One could also state that there are multiple levels - pardes. My aim here is not to explore all different approaches, though this is an exemplary goal in its own right.)
Now, everyone likes to cite the Talmudic statement the ain mikra yotzei midei peshuto, that the Torah does not leave from its peshat meaning, even as we add derash meaning. However, first and foremost, Rashi and other medieval commentators do not use it in the sense as it carries in the gemara. (See Rashi scholars on this point.)
And (as I have discussed elsewhere), this phrase occurs only three times in Talmud, and
it is not clear what it means. For example, one instance is in hilchot Shabbat {
Shabbat 63a}, where a verse from Tehillim is cited which describes a sword as a glorification. An objection is cited that that verse refers to learning of Torah, and the answer is that ain mikra yotzei midei peshuto. Here we have an allegorical interpretation of the verse, and we are stating that when you have a mashal, both the literal story and its allegorical interpretation are valid. And further, this is stated in an halachic context, in terms of deriving Biblical law. This is not a sweeping statement about Chazal's midrashic approach to understanding pesukim, reading events into the narrative via extremely close reading of the text (which is what midrash is). Rav Kahana is surprised by this statement, exclaiming that even though at the age of 18 he knew all of Talmud at the age of 18, he did not know that mikra does not leave its peshat interpretation. This in terms of halachic ramifications, that both peshat and derash are relevant. Another instance is in
Yevamot 11b, again in an halachic context, and it is possible that we should not apply it there. And the last in
Yevamot 24a, again in an halachic context, where an extreme literal peshat might have that the son must be named after the deceased, rather than shem taking to mean nachala, inheritance (="title," which encompasses both senses). If so, they will say that here the gezeira shava in which shem means inheritance (by Ephraim and Menashe) elsewhere entirely uproots the "peshat" meaning of actually naming after the deceased.
It is not clear that in general, and in narrative contexts, Chazal in the gemara thought that both the most literal and the midrashic levels were simultaneously true, or even that the literal level, without applying rules of midrashic interpretation, was true. Perhaps they did think that, but it is not obvious. So this question is a very deep one, and different very smart people of different generations took varying approaches.
Back to the article.
Leah was educated in a yeshiva day school. The vast majority of children from the current yeshiva system believe that all Midrashim are part of the literal account of the events that occurred in the Tanach.
Firstly, many children are not educated enough in the peshat meaning of the text and in what the Biblical text actually says, such that they think in many cases that the midrashim are actually written in the Biblical text. I know of one person who looked at one point for the pasuk that stated that Avraham destroyed his father's idols. It is a flaw in the way we teach Tanach. It is also a flaw in how we teach midrashim, in that we do not show how the midrash is derived from the text. In Rabbi Rosenthal's article, he does not address this issue.
However, there were a good many great Sages of years past who also believed that Midrashim are part what actually happened on the ground in Tanach. Other Sages may have disagreed with them, but that does not make the former position entirely illegitimate, to the extent that the belief is flawed. (Note also that it is hard to believe in all midrashim as part of the literal account, because many a times one midrash will argue with another midrash.) This includes medieval Sages, and may very well represent the beliefs on the Talmudic Sages.
Back to the article:
Let me fast-forward to an anthropology class at Queens College. The professor is discussing ancient Egypt. He mentions there is a legend among the Jews about the daughter of Pharaoh concerning her arm stretching out to retrieve baby Moses. Leah raises her hand. She says that it was a miracle and the daughter of Pharaoh had her arm stretched out to save Moshe. Suddenly, all 53 members of her class turn to her and stare. Her face turns crimson. The professor asks her, “Do you believe that actually happened?” Leah feels the temperature rising. She knows that her beliefs are under attack, and that she has been publicly put on the spot. She desperately wants to explain the Torah position in a cogent way, and yet she finds that despite 15 years of yeshiva education, she is unable to do so.
This is clearly a hypothetical, since he was just interviewing her two days ago. So let me pose a similar hypothetical, changing the details only somewhat. (My changes in bold.)
Let me fast-forward to an anthropology class at Queens College. The professor is discussing ancient Egypt. He mentions there is a legend among the Jews about the Nile turning to blood. Leah raises her hand. She says that it was a miracle and Aaron stretched his hand over the waters and they turned to blood. Suddenly, all 53 members of her class turn to her and stare. Her face turns crimson. The professor asks her, “Do you believe that actually happened?” Leah feels the temperature rising. She knows that her beliefs are under attack, and that she has been publicly put on the spot. She desperately wants to explain the Torah position in a cogent way, and yet she finds that despite 15 years of yeshiva education, she is unable to do so.
Yes, Rabbi Rosenthal, not only midrashim speak of miracles. This I think is your real trouble, as evident by your earlier jibe "like Mr. Fantastic." Will Leah have an easier time explaining the many miracles written in the actual text of the Torah than the miracles mentioned in midrashim? What about all of the plagues? What of the splitting of the reed sea? The destruction of Sodom? The angels blinding the residents of Sodom? The giving of the Torah on Mt. Sinai? The manna falling every day? The clouds of Glory and the Heavenly fire leading the Israelites in the desert? The widow pouring oil from one vessels into many other vessels? Eliyahu ascending in a chariot of fire? The list goes on. To all these, the anthropology professor can ask, "Do you believe that actually happened?" Jewish beliefs are not determined by anthropology professors at Queens College.
Now, Ibn Ezra takes a similar approach, only accepting miracles explicitly mentioned in pesukim, in part because of difficulties some midrashim would present in terms of explaining and arguing occurences (such as the population growth in Israel in Egypt) to Arab scholars. Yet "what will the gentiles say" is not a great argument for rejecting Oral Torah and actual Jewish beliefs, if they indeed are Jewish beliefs (though this is what is up for debate).
The article continues:
What is the Torah position on Midrashim?
Not a Torah position on Midrashim? Rather the Torah position on Midrashim. Might there be multiple approaches? In fact, historically there were, and there was, and is, great debate about the nature of derash and peshat, and there relationship to one another. Furthermore, which
midrashim? All midrashim? Midrash aggada? Midrash halacha? Aggada in the gemara? Only the midrashim involving miracles or all explanations of narrative rooted in
derash and stated in gemara and midrashic seforim?
Back to the article:
Rambam, the great Jewish philosopher, in his commentary to Perek Chelek (Ch. 10 of Sanhedrin) states unequivocally that Midrashim are not to be taken literally, but are a source of deep wisdom. Ramchal, The great mekubal, in his Introduction to Aggadah (found in most editions of the Ein Yaakov) states that the Midrashim are a source of deep and abstract ideas and are not to be taken literally. The Ra’avad on his commentary on the Mishneh Torah (Hil. Teshuva Ch. 3) states that when one takes the Midrashim literally, it is mishabshos es ha’dei’os—it distorts one’s principles of belief. Sadly, this is case with our children. They have been taught Midrashim as fairy tales. The effects are disastrous.
Firstly, why did they have to say this? They had to say this because there were others who disagreed and had other beliefs.
Furthermore, this is selective citing. Can we cite others from the same time-period who propound other beliefs? Is the Rambam saying this under the influence of the incorrect Aristotelian philosophy of his day? Can we demonstrate the Chazal in the time of the gemara actually did belief in the reality of the midrashim?
Further, recall that Rambam was a somewhat controversial figure. His books were banned. Many do not know this about Ramchal, but his kabbalistic books were banned. He wrote mesilat yesharim when prevented from working on his standard kabbalistic fare.
Furthermore, are they talking about all of Chazal's interpretations of pesukim? Or just some of the more fantastic, miraculous midrashim? Are they speaking about every derasha which Rashi cites throughout his commentary on Torah? Or are they speaking about select midrashim which were clearly intended by Chazal to be allegorical, to teach some deep message? I haven't seen them inside in a while, and don't recall, but one can clearly make such distinctions.
Let me give you some examples, because you cannot really discuss this without examples. Chazal say that whoever says that Reuven sinned is only making a mistake. Yet the simplest peshat in the pasuk states that he slept with Bilhah.
Bereishit 35:22:
וַיִּשְׁכַּב אֶת-בִּלְהָה פִּילֶגֶשׁ אָבִיו
Chazal explain that he merely moved his father's bed from Bilhah's tent. This is based on other pesukim in Tanach, as well as the fact that vayishkav literally means "sleep," and so he caused her to sleep alone rather than be with Yaakov that night. This would be labelled by most as a "midrashic" explanation of the verse. Yet would all the aforementioned say that this is not meant to be taken literally and of course Reuven slept with his step-mother? Even if they would, would Rashi? I doubt it.
How about ayin tachat ayin? Most literally it means "an eye for an eye." Do we say that is actual Torah law, and the idea of paying money merely contains a "deep meaning?"
I can demonstrate to you that on the best peshat reading, one of the three angels who appeared to Avraham was really Hashem, which shows that God can assume corporeal form. And that is why, for example, only two angels arrived in Sodom. Read Speiser in the Anchor Bible. Chazal's approach, which is assumed by all the classic commentaries, is that the three angels and God's appearance are separate. Shall we say that these interpretations are untrue in the sense of actually happening, and reflect some deeper message?
The examples above are extreme examples, but less extreme examples abound throughout Rashi's commentary on Torah. He often cites midrashim exclusively, where people (incorrectly, but that is for another rant) try to discover "what was bothering Rashi." Did Rashi truly believe in each of these cases, where he cites Chazal who use midrashic methods, that this is not what actually went on? My sense from reading Rashi is that this is not the case.
I have a few questions, which put to the test the statement that all midrashim are to convey some "deeper meaning." Some have answers of course.
1) If midrashim are to convey a deeper meaning, such as a moral lesson, why must every midrash be derived via exegesis from the text?
2) Why do we find Sages arguing with one another, bringing textual proofs for why the midrash must be X and not Y (such as: Adam ate the fruit because of an argument presented by Chava, because it says, since you listened to the "voice" of your wife. The other: If so, it would have said "the words." Since it says the "voice," we see it was crying.). If they are commenting on the deeper moral lesson of the story, what sense is there to argue with one another, bringing textual proof?
3) If only the deeper meaning is meant, why do we sometimes find narrative midrashim cited in halachic contexts, with halachic ramifications? For just one example, in
Chullin 5a, a question is asked based on the assumption that the ravens {in
I Kings 17:14} were bringing meat from the butchers of Achav. How is such a question even possible if they did not believe it actually happened but is only conveying a deeper meaning?
The article continues:
I explained to Leah that the Torah’s account is what truly occurred in space and time. The Midrash is there to point to the story behind the story. In my opinion, the seemingly miraculous extension of Pharaoh’s daughter’s arm is directing us to another idea—the great difficulty that she must have faced saving the life of a Jewish baby. Imagine, if you will, a modern day Pharaoh—perhaps a Hitler or a Stalin, or even a Saddam Hussein. How likely would it be for the daughter of such a singularly evil dictator to defy her father’s murderous intentions? Her actions required her to go against her upbringing and the dictates of her father.
This would of necessity create tremendous conflict for any young woman, but particularly for one in her position of prominence in Egyptian society. The Written Torah’s typically spare prose seems to gloss over this conflict. But the Midrash points to it, and if used properly, makes us stop and examine her motivations. The metaphor of her extended arm is an expression of G-d’s directing the actions of Pharaoh’s daughter. The rabbis are teaching us that her emotional shift towards feeling protective of this baby is as much of a miracle as if G-d had extended her arm 25 feet.
Oy vey. This is a terrible explanation of the midrash. I do not find this believable at all. Firstly, as daughter of Pharaoh she did not necessarity have to worry about the repercussions as much as a common Egyptian. She could have "her" Jew. Indeed, Moshe knew of his Israelite ancestry. Furthermore, the discovery that it was an Israelite child and her having compassion on him happens in the *next* verse, not this verse. For all she knew, it could have been an abandoned Egyptian baby when she saved him. Finally, just from my general knowledge of midrashim, this explanation of the midrash is quite forced. "as much a miracle as *if* her arm had extended...?" Eh.
Now, it is really easy to create justifications. I can create a justification - a deeper meaning - for any midrash and any pasuk. That does not make it true.
However, I have in fact pointed out many times on parshablog the deeper meaning of the midrash, and how midrashim pick up on the theme running through the text, making it clearer.
If we examine the plain text, we find that the narrative is written in a very naturalistic manner. Moshe's mother put him in the Nile, and by chance, Pharaoh's daughter was bathing in the Nile and found him. He was brought up in the palace, then killed an Egyptian and had to flee.
However, it is clear that there is a Divine Hand at work. The same Divine Hand which Yosef explained to his brothers directed him to Egpyt so he could save them is at play here. Pharaoh's daughter stretched out her hand, or sent her maidservant, to retreive the boy, but this was because God was pulling the strings and directing events. (Alternatively, something along the lines of: when one tries to do a good deed, God helps along.)
The article:
Leah felt as if a load had been removed from shoulders. At age 14, she was taught—for the first time— the relationship between the Torah and the Midrashim. It is my belief that all teachers should only teach a Midrash if they help the students discover its deeper message.
She felt a load lifted from her shoulders because she no longer had to answer the difficult question posed to her during the interview. The interviewer wanted to tell her *the* answer.
And now she knows the one and only relationship between Torah and the Midrashim.
Does he really believe that "all teachers should only teach a Midrash if they help the students discover its deeper message?" This will be problematic for midrashim that do not have deeper messages. But it will be even more problematic in that they will never be able to learn Rashi on Torah without a protracted discussion. Then again, I do not know whether Rabbi Rosenthal realizes the extent of midrashim, or only considers the fantastic ones.
Also, even if there is a deeper meaning all midrashim, are we not to develop other skills by focusing on other aspects of midrashim - how they are derived, how they relate to the text, etc.?
The article:
Rabbi Simcha Feuerman, LCSW, and Chaya Feuerman, LCSW, in their article “Teaching Midrashim to Children” suggest using the notion of seeking a “moral of the story” for presenting the idea of a deeper meaning of Midrashim to children. Here is a good example:
These are social workers. Now they might have good ideas, but I would also like to hear how a scholar - say, an academic scholar, might approach midrashim. Must we turn every midrash into fluff and psycho-babble?
“Consider the Midrash that contains a strange twist to the plague of frogs. The verse (Sh’mos 8:2) states:
‘And the frog went up and covered all of Egypt.’ The text uses the singular form when referring to the frogs. Of course, the simple explanation (pashut p’shat) is that in Hebrew, as in many languages, an entire group or species is labeled in the singular form. However, the Midrash derives from this choice of words that actually one frog rose out of the Nile. However, each and every time an Egyptian tried to hit the frog, instead of it being squashed and killed, it split into several new frogs. Thus, as the frogs began to jump all over, and Egyptians encountered and hit them, the plague grew worse and worse. (See Rashi.)
“To our thinking, there is no question that any classroom of children who were encouraged to ponder what the real lesson behind this Midrash is would draw powerful insights into the nature of problems and how people get further into them. The inescapable lesson of this Midrash is that when you try to stubbornly and pig-headedly fight a problem—as the Egyptians did— instead of thinking about what has gone wrong, you will end up panicking and making things far worse. The more the Egyptians fought the frogs, the worse it got. Who among us in life has not panicked and made a situation far worse instead of staying calm and using problem-solving skills?”
To their credit, they at least develop the relationship between peshat and derash, such that we get some sense of why they say only one frog ascended from the Nile. They omit the fact that in the next verse we have the plural, וַיַּעֲלוּ אֶת-הַצְפַרְדְּעִים עַל-אֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם, such that we are going from one to many. They do not mention how the idea of hitting is derived.
Furthermore, their "moral" really has little to do with the Biblical text. This is a lesson for life, not a lesson in understanding the narrative. Why did Chazal teach this lesson here? We might as well be teaching the children Highlights, with Goofus and Gallant. Obviously one might learn a life lesson from the midrash, just as one might learn a life lesson from pesukim. But I have read a lot of midrashim, and this does not seem to me to even approximate the intent of the midrash.
(By the way, this was Rabbi Akiva's attempt at midrash, which caused Rabbi Eleazer ben Azarya to tell him "don't quit your day job" of midrash halacha.)
In fact, since earlier about the frogs the word sharatz is used, we might consider that the frogs are being used as a stand in for the Israelites. When they came to Egypt, they came small in number. Then, yishretzu, they swarmed. To cite Shemot 1:7:
פָּרוּ וַיִּשְׁרְצוּ וַיִּרְבּוּ וַיַּעַצְמוּ--בִּמְאֹד מְאֹד; וַתִּמָּלֵא הָאָרֶץ, אֹתָם
What was the Egyptians' reaction? They hit them. They oppressed them. But hitting and oppressing the Israelites just made them increase, with God's blessing and direction. Thus, Shemot 1:12:
וְכַאֲשֶׁר יְעַנּוּ אֹתוֹ, כֵּן יִרְבֶּה וְכֵן יִפְרֹץ; וַיָּקֻצוּ, מִפְּנֵי בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל
"But the more they afflicted them, the more they multiplied and the more they spread abroad. And they were adread because of the children of Israel."
Might *this* be a more accurate explanation of the midrash, rather than the psycho-babble offered above as the supreme example of teaching the children the "true, deeper" meaning of the midrash?? I think so.
He concludes:
As our children enter the 21st century and its scientific mindset, it is obligatory for all educators to ensure that our children see the Torah in its most sophisticated light.
Perhaps. I *also* do not like it when people have an unsophisticated approach to midrashim. But an intellectually honest approach to midrashim might (or might not) recognize that Chazal themselves actually believed these midrashic stories to be true. If we reject these stories, or the idea that midrashim produce true facts, perhaps that makes us (and the Rambam, and quite possibly me) heretics. And giving incorrect meanings to midrashim is not productive. Further, before giving correct meaning, we need to really really know philology and midrashic method. And finally, there are multiple approaches to the relationship between peshat and derash, and let us not think that we know the one true answer.
I will end with the following story from Sanhedrin 100a, and ask you: what does this tell us about Chazal's attitude towards midrashim:
R. Johanan was sitting and teaching: The Holy One, blessed be He, will bring jewels and precious stones, each thirty cubits long, and thirty cubits high, and make an engraving in them, ten by twenty cubits, and set them up as the gates of Jerusalem, for it is written, And I will make thy windows of agates, and thy gates of carbuncles. A certain disciple derided him saying, 'We do not find a jewel even as large as a dove's egg, yet such huge ones are to exist!' Some time later he took a sea journey and saw the ministering angels cutting precious stones and pearls. He said unto them: 'For what are these?' They replied: 'The Holy One, blessed be He, will set them up as the gates of Jerusalem.' On his return, he found R. Johanan sitting and teaching. He said to him: 'Expound, O Master, and it is indeed fitting for you to expound, for even as you did say, so did I myself see.' 'Wretch!' he exclaimed, 'had you not seen, you would not have believed! You deride the words of the Sages!' He set his eyes upon him, and he turned in to a heap of bones
I have a lot more to write on the subject, but most people are probably not going to even read this far. Perhaps in a later post.
