I have always been wary of the approach that sees Judaism as the early and far-sighted source of everything good in the West. One reason is that while I respect many of the moral accomplishments of the West, I believe that Judaism still has much to offer in critique of the West’s many remaining failings. The other is that it often leads to a tendentious and anachronistic understanding of Judaism that is ultimately untenable. That said, it is obvious that Judaism’s moral teachings did have an important impact on the development of Western morality. Although these ideas were often adjusted and changed along the way, it is worth our while to ponder some of the Jewish ideas that stood out in marked contrast to the cultures around them.
One example of such a disparity comes out in a fascinating discussion between Alexander the Great and the Elders of the Negev tucked away in Tamid (31b-32a). On some level, the discussion is not only an interchange between the parties involved, but rather an intellectual confrontation between Greek philosophy and Jewish wisdom more generally. While Alexander appears as the man of the world he had become, his inquiries reveal his great interest in wisdom. This is likely neither an embellishment nor an exaggeration since it is well-known that Alexander studied for three years under no less of a philosopher than Aristotle.
Many parts of this discussion deserve our attention, but one phrase especially drew my interest. Among the ten questions Alexander poses to the Elders is something familiar to us from the teaching of Ben Zoma in Pirkei Avot (4:1): Who is wise, who is mighty, and who is wealthy? In fact, the answers they gave him are identical to the ones in Avot, except for one important detail – they switch Ben Zoma’s answer, “one who learns from all men,” to a different teaching in Avot (2:9), “one who foresees consequences.”
There could be several reasons why they switched the answer, but my sense is that they all lead in the direction of Alexander’s tutelage with Aristotle. Whatever they said had to be at least remotely acceptable to such a sensibility. One thought I had was that learning from all men could be understood as a put-down of Aristotle in his move away from the Socratic method Aristotle had been taught. That method involves learning with/from the student, something Aristotle discarded as essentially a waste of time. Why should the master not just arrive at knowledge on his own and then impart it to the clearly less knowledgeable and capable student, especially if the master is someone on the level of Socrates or Aristotle?
But I think there is an even more likely explanation for why Ben Zoma’s teaching was censored here. Not unlike other Greek philosophers, Aristotle believed there were vastly different categories of people. To take the most extreme example, true slaves were seen as being born with an inability to ever develop their intellects. Hence, the idea of learning something from them, in the sense of listening to their ideas, made about as much sense as learning from animals.
That this is not so in Judaism is not only seen from Ben Zoma’s theoretical teachings but even more so from its actual practice by the illustrious Rabban Gamliel. As is well known, he had a slave, Tavi, from whom he and other sages would learn various laws. Granted, this is not an indication that this was the norm, but it serves as a powerful illustration of the fluidity of personal status in Jewish thought, that no one was automatically disqualified. Indeed, Ben Zoma is likely not saying that we literally have to learn from everyone, as much as that we have to be open to that possibility and not shut the door simply because of someone’s identity.
While this Jewish concept may seem obvious today when slavery is largely behind us, it was far from obvious in the past. Rabban Gamliel’s ability to look at his gentile slave as a possible source of enlightenment was likely rooted in a different teaching that set up the basis for the doctrine so subversive that they had to keep it from Alexander. That teaching is that all men were created in God’s image. Once that is the case, the lowliest human is still very lofty indeed!
To be clear, I am not claiming that classical Judaism was completely against slavery. Indeed, the Jewish tradition agreed with Aristotle that slavery could actually benefit the slave. Rather, the distinction is what can be expected of such a person. For the Elders of the Negev, we can essentially expect the same of a slave as of any other individual. And when the slave lives up to that potential, he is not stuck by fate into continuing to be a slave. Accordingly, Tavi was eventually liberated.
Lest we make the mistake of thinking there is nothing for us moderns to learn from this teaching, we should critically consider whether there are groups of people we automatically disqualify as sources of learning. If we would really give this thought, we would realize that there are many people we refuse to take seriously simply because of how we perceive them. Moreover, to continue to do so is essentially to censor Ben Zoma in favor of Aristotle.
