The Passing of the Talmidim of Rabbi Akiva
During the days of Sefiras HaOmer, we observe aveilus for the twelve thousand pairs of talmidim of Rabbi Akiva, who died during this period. The Gemara in Yevamos (62b) states that “they all died in one period because they did not conduct themselves with kavod toward one another.” In response to this, Klal Yisrael has taken upon itself—especially during these days—to strengthen the practice of showing kavod to one another, and particularly among those who are engaged in Torah study.
A well-known question is raised: These were gedolei olam, men richly endowed with midos tovos. Why, then, did they fail to conduct themselves with kavod toward one another? Even more perplexing: Once they saw that many were dying each day, why did they not change their ways? Why did they persist in their conduct until they had all perished within that single period?
The Inherent Tension in Being a Talmid
Upon deeper reflection, one notices that the Gemara places particular emphasis on the fact that they were “talmidim of Rabbi Akiva”. The very essence of a talmid is that he is a receiver of Torah. A talmid yearns to understand his rebbe’s words with complete clarity; to this end, he toils and strives to penetrate to the depths of his rebbe’s true intent. The difficulty, however, is that this very desire almost inevitably gives rise to a certain dismissiveness toward fellow talmidim. One student has exerted himself greatly and arrived at one understanding of his rebbe’s words, while his colleague has exerted himself no less and reached an entirely different conclusion. The understanding of the one contradicts that of the other, to the point that he may dismiss his fellow entirely, as if to say: “You have understood nothing at all.”
One who is genuinely immersed in Torah, whose very essence is that of a talmid, can scarcely avoid this form of zilzul—dismissiveness—toward his fellow. The sharpness and intensity required to acquire Torah compel zilzul, and it is not certain that one can escape this. This is consistent with the Gemara in Kiddushin (30b), which teaches that even a father and son, or a rebbe and talmid, who sit together engaged in Torah become adversaries to one another.
“V’es Vahev B’Sufah” — From Conflict to Ahavah
This mode of learning is, in fact, indispensable to the acquisition of Torah. As the Gaon Rav Yisrael Salanter writes (Ohr Yisrael, Michtav 6), Torah is acquired through sharpness of mind and “giftig”—forceful intensity. It is also well known that Rav Yisrael once attempted to conduct his learning in a manner of “shkitas haruch”—tranquility of spirit—and ultimately remarked that while good midos were indeed present, genuine learning was not. Authentic Torah study demands passion and sharpness, as we see among the gedolei olam who expressed themselves with considerable sharpness toward one another—the Ramban toward the Baal HaMaor, and many similar instances. Clearly, this forceful manner is not one of kavod; it is quite the contrary.
We must therefore understand: What precisely was the claim against the talmidim of Rabbi Akiva?
It would appear that a subtle point lies at the heart of the matter. At the outset of learning, a measure of zilzul is inevitable. However, there is a subsequent demand of “v’es vahev b’sufah” (Bamidbar 21:14)—that the learners ultimately come to love one another, as the Gemara (ibid.) explains. As Rav Yisrael Salanter expresses it (ibid.): “The lishmah is the shkitas haruch—whether the conclusion follows his view or that of his fellow… The enmity at the outset is the aspect of learning through sharpness of mind, while the love at the end is the aspect of lishmah—each one nullifying his own view and following the majority or the greater authority, or each one standing firm in his own view.” But how is such a thing possible? How can one return to ahavah after the heat of machlokes and vigorous debate?
Lishmah — The Path to Kavod After Machlokes
The Nefesh HaChaim (Shaar 4, 8) explains that learning lishmah flows from the recognition that the Torah is infinitely greater than our own intellectual grasp. When we are truly mindful of this reality, we become capable once again of conducting ourselves with kavod even toward a view we oppose—not, chalilah, by capitulating to that view, for we may still disagree with it entirely—but because the understanding that the Torah towers far beyond our comprehension grants us the capacity to contain and honor even a differing opinion, notwithstanding the machlokes. This same perspective enables us to accept the ruling of a rav even when he decides in accordance with a position of our fellow with which we are in complete disagreement.
The mitzvah of Talmud Torah requires us to understand and engage with our own individual mind—to debate forcefully against the view that does not seem correct to us, even to the point of a certain lack of mutual deference. Only in this way can Torah truly be acquired. Yet after all this, we must ascend still higher to the level of lishmah, in which we internalize that the Torah is “longer than the earth in measure” and elevated far beyond the reach of human understanding. Consequently, even with respect to views in Torah with which we differ, we remain capable of conducting ourselves toward them with kavod. Even when we stand in firm opposition to our fellow’s position, we can still treat it with dignity and respect.
When the talmidim of Rabbi Akiva saw that a mageifah had broken out among the students, they believed the proper response was to strengthen themselves further in talmidus—to become even greater talmidim, ever more exacting and precise in comprehending their rebbe’s view. However, this very intensification inevitably brought with it still greater zilzul, as described above. The subtle claim against them, commensurate with their lofty stature, was that they should have elevated themselves to the level of lishmah—to internalize the recognition that one’s grasp of Torah will always remain limited—and thereby become capable of conducting themselves with kavod toward one another.
Indeed, we are called upon to toil and to be talmidim, an endeavor which, by its very nature, leads to zilzul. Yet particularly during these days of Sefiras HaOmer, we must, alongside that toil, work to ingrain within ourselves the understanding that the Torah extends infinitely beyond our comprehension. In this way, we will become capable of offering and receiving kavod even toward views that differ from our own—even those with which we genuinely disagree.