I will leave it to a psychologist to figure out why I am fascinated by the sharp and colorful rebukes offered by people who revered each other. Best friends spoke like enemies.
Actually, they might not have been friends at all, given that some of them lived in different centuries, but they all revered each other. I know these eminences very well, although I never met a single one of them; they populate the texts I was required to master for rabbinic ordination. I pored over the writings of these eminences.
“Fascinated” by their rebukes? More like something between enthralled and obsessed. The contrast between the deep personal love and respect, on the one hand, and the vivid language deployed to express disagreements, stopped me in my tracks.
Among the masters of Torah whose words caught my attention were R’ Shabbtai Hakohen (1621-1662) and R’ David Halevi (1586-1667). R’ David was the senior scholar, R’ Shabbtai decades younger. Both were geniuses. They met after R’ Shabbtai had penned his own commentary on the Code of the Jewish Law, which contained biting — and colorful — critiques of R’ David, the senior scholar, and vice-versa. Yet, when they met, they fell into each other’s arms. R’ David kissed the young scholar on his head. They loved each other.
Each was relentless in his critique of the other’s readings of texts of Jewish law if he thought the other’s interpretation was wrong.
Was this a contradiction? No, it was something else entirely, it was love of the truth, love of Torah. If one of these two scholars — or others — set forth an understanding of the Torah that one deemed poorly thought through, one had to say so. There was no choice. The Torah demanded it. The truth must be understood accurately; nothing can get in the way of that. To shunt aside an incorrect reading of the Torah, however strongly, is separate from one’s admiration and love for the other scholar whose interpretations one rejects.
Among the colorful formulations of rejection by one scholar of another:
1. “Lo chali ve-lo margish.” Literally, “he’s not sick and he has no pain.” As is often the case, the literal translation of an idiom robs it of its meaning and its bite. In this case, the literal translation turns the meaning upside down. What this idiom actually conveys is, “He [the other commentator] is so ill he doesn’t even know it” or “He’s so distant from the truth but doesn’t have a clue how wrong he is” or “His reading is diseased and he has no sense of how painfully far from the truth it is.”
2. “Uve-chinam torach ha-rav bazeh.” Literally, “he troubled himself for nothing.” Meaning: His whole long argument, filled with all of its twists and turns, doesn’t add up to a hill of beans.
3. “Va-ani omer, Moshe emet ve-Torato emet.” Literally, “And I say, Moses is truth and his Torah is truth!” Meaning: “His position is so far out of the ball park that it’s as if he left Moses and the Torah back in the sand. I, however, rescue and defend them.”
4. “Ein achar ha-minhag klum elah be-derech shekatavti.” Literally: “His [stringent] practice is worthless; only my way is right.” This critique ends with another expression that sometimes is meant to be literal and sometimes the opposite: “So it seems to me, according to my humble opinion.” Sometimes, this expression of humility means what it says: “Maybe I’m right, maybe I’m not; I offer my opinion with all due humility.” Sometimes (as here) it means: “My humble opinion is superior to his certain opinion.”
5. “Ueve-chinam he’erich be-dechukim gedolim.” He carried on at length with all kinds of forced distinctions.” Here, the denotation and the connotation are the same.
6. “Ve-tamah ani im yatz’u devarim eilu mi-piv.” Literally: “I’m stunned; if these words came out of his mouth.” Meaning: “This makes so little sense that I can’t even believe he said it”; or, alternatively, “he couldn’t possible have said this.”
7. “Agav churfei, lo iyein yafeh.” Literally: “Because of his sharp mind he didn’t pay close enough attention.” Meaning: “With all of his obvious analytical skill, he missed the point.” I am reminded of Abba Eban’s bon mot: “An expert is someone who knows everything . . . but nothing else.”
8. If you thought the above examples seem sharp, try this one: “Hu kara tagar al ha-machmirim she-hu kemo minut.” Literally: “He says that those who take the stringent position here are so off base that it’s like heresy” — to which the only connotation I could add would be an exclamation point!
Here’s a variation: not a critique of another scholar’s comment, but a praise of one’s own: “Hu perush kaftor va-perach.” Literally, “my comment is a decorative knob and a flower.” Not just any knob and flower. The Hebrew terms refer to the decorative shapes at the top of each of the branches of the Menorah, lit daily by the High Priest in the ancient Holy Tabernacle. That, indeed, is a self-commendation: I’ve got the logic so tight here that it is worthy of the holiest temple on earth.
Another variation: straightforward praise of another scholar’s position coupled with a critique of those who don’t follow it: “Ra’ui la’asot le-chol mi sheyesh bo rei’ah Torah.” Literally: “This is the right way to act for anyone who has the scent of Torah.”
Meaning: “I can’t strictly say that this is the law, but if you’ve got the slightest atmospheric of loyalty to Torah in your life, this is what you ought to do.”
Another variation: Unambiguous humility: “Umah e’eseh, betelah da’ati neged da’atam.” Literally: “What can I do? My opinion is nullified before theirs.” Meaning: “I’ve got a tremendous reading of the sources here, but I just can’t say the law is to follow my interpretation and not the others’, especially since I rule leniently. I will say this: I rule leniently while they rule stringently; so I think that in case you’ll lose a ton of money if you are stringent, it’s OK to be lenient — possibly.”
© IJN 2025
