Script of the Talk:

Once upon a time in the Holy Land, during the era of the Rabbinic Sages, there was a certain oven. 

A dispute arose around this oven. Was it, or was it not, ritually pure?

The Rabbis gathered, encircling it with their arguments like a snake coiled around a sun-warmed stone. All of them agreed: it was ritually impure. No good. Not kosher.

All of them agreed, that is… bar one. Rabbi Eliezer ben Hurcanus was a conservative who adhered very strictly to traditional rules. He disputed the validity of Midrash – a relatively loose form of interpretation of Jewish law, where old texts would be mined for new, creatively tailored meanings.  

And this Rabbi Eliezer, alone amongst the Rabbis, ruled that this oven was A-OK.

He gave all the arguments under the sun in favour of his position. But the other Rabbis were not swayed.

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Having failed to convince them through his reasoning, Eliezer switched tactics. 

He pointed to a carob tree across the field and declared: “If the halakha is in accordance with my opinion – if what I say is true – then that tree will prove it.”

Right on cue, the tree pulled its roots out of the ground and walked itself a hundred cubits across the fields. Some say it was even four hundred cubits.

Pretty impressive, huh? What do you think the other Rabbis made of that?

They nodded at the walking tree, stroked their beards, turned away from the miraculous sight, looked Rabbi Eliezer in the face, and said: “A tree does not constitute valid legal proof. It has no bearing on the case in question, whether it’s walking or doing the jitterbug.”

So Rabbi Eliezer pointed at a stream and said: “If the Law is in accordance with my ruling, this stream will prove it.”

Right on cue, the stream… started flowing backwards. 

And the Rabbis go: “I’m sorry dude, but water is not a valid legal argument, no matter which way it’s flowing.”

At this point, to be honest, I’m not sure what Rabbi Eliezer thinks he’s gonna gain from this next one. But either way, he said: “If I’m right, the walls of the study hall will prove it.”

And right on cue, the walls leaned inward, and started to fall. 

Now, the text doesn’t say where the Rabbis were. If they were in the study hall, this may not have been Eliezer’s brightest idea. But either way, everybody’s safe, because the building didn’t collapse. 

And that’s because the great Rabbi Yehoshua (or Joshua), turned the walls, and told them off!

Basically, he’s like: “You’re a wall. The fuck do you know about Jewish Law? Have you studied? Have you read the books? If not, then keep your stony nose out of this.”

And so the walls are stuck between a rock and a hard place. Out of respect for Rabbi Joshua, they stop falling. But out of respect for Rabbi Eliezer, they don’t straighten up again. Instead, they remain leaning there, in limbo, caught between their sense of awe for these two great sages. 

So at this point, Rabbi Eliezer’s just like, look. 

If the halakha – the right way – is in accordance with my opinion, Heaven itself will prove it.

And… right on cue… a divine voice… bat kol… emerged from heaven. God Almighty gets in on the action and straight up says:

Why are you guys arguing with Eliezer? The halakha is in accordance with his opinion in every place that he expresses an opinion. 

God himself announces that Eliezer is right, and furthermore, that he’s always right. Now if that doesn’t settle it, what would? 

Now how on Earth do you imagine the Rabbis respond?

Well, Rabbi Joshua got up to his feet and said:

It is written: It is not in Heaven. 

Now. Pause for a moment. When he says, “It is not in Heaven”, he is quoting God’s words back to Him. Specifically, he’s quoting from the Torah, the 5 Books of Moses and the core of Jewish law, ethics, cosmology everything. He’s talking about an episode in the Book of Deuteronomy, Chapter 30. This is when God spoke directly to the Jewish people, and told them he was making his commandments clear and explicit to them, so that they couldn’t come back to him later saying they didn’t know. It reads:

For this commandment which I command thee this day, it is not too hard for thee, neither is it far off.

It is not in heaven, that thou shouldest say: ‘Who shall go up for us to heaven, and bring it unto us, and make us to hear it, that we may do it?’

[Neither is it beyond the sea, that thou shouldest say: ‘Who shall go over the sea for us, and bring it unto us, and make us to hear it, that we may do it?’]

But the word is very nigh unto thee, in thy mouth, and in thy heart, that thou mayest do it. {selah}

Deuteronomy 30: 11-14
[verse 13 excised in recording]

Basically, I haven’t made my commandments impossible or inaccessible. So no excuses. 

And so Rabbi Joshua turns these words back against God. His point is: look God, if you’re saying that you made it perfectly clear, so that we can’t come knocking on your door complaining we didn’t know… then the same goes for you. You can’t just come down and tell what it means or how to do it. You’ve had your say, now it’s up to us to get on with it. Leave us to it.

And that… was that. The matter was settled there. The Talmud simply states. 

Since the majority of Rabbis disagreed with Rabbi Eliezer’s opinion, the halakha is not ruled in accordance with his opinion.

That particular kind of oven is not kosher. And there we go.

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So, this story is one of the most famous in the entire Talmud. And it has been often cited through the years by reformers and religious innovators. From the so-called Conservative movement against Orthodox Judaism, to liberal voices in the present day. It has been used as a way of saying: just because we used to do things a certain way, doesn’t mean it’s right. The book of the law is still open for reinterpretation or revision, regardless of the original intention of its authors. Even if the ancients, or even God Himself, intended to do things a certain way, if an educated consensus in modern day thinks we should do things differently, then we can do things differently. 

And the point of this story is, in essence, that we’ve grown up as a species. Humanity, we mere and foolish mortals, are the ones in charge now. We can no longer rely on some superior, wiser authority to tell us what to do. If the story of humanity begins in the Book of Genesis with Adam and Eve eating the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, then this story is a sort of climax. We’ve digested the fruit entirely. For better or for worse, in practice and on the ground, we’re the arbiters of right and wrong.

This rebelling against and overcoming of Divine Authority is a trope which is rife in Humanist, freethinking, or anti-clerical narratives. From Milton’s Satan to Shelley’s Prometheus, to the plot of basically every single Japanese Role-Playing Game ever – which all wind up, one way or another, with you teaming up with your mates to kill God. And this narrative trope carries, at its core, an epistemic message: a point about the nature of knowledge and truth. It’s about decentering truth from Up There or Back Then to Right Here and Now. And it’s really refreshing, and revealing, to see that you don’t have to make a break from religious tradition to do it. This move can be part of religious tradition itself – and has been for thousands of years.

And if I might point one last thing: I’d say the means at arriving at knowledge they provide is remarkably mature. It’s not some fanciful flight of reason or scientific silver bullet. It’s a process – one which is ongoing, messy, multi-vocal, and complex. It involves study, reflection, and then coming together and trying to reach consensus. That’s what it looks like to figure out the right way to do things.

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Alright. With all that commentary out of the way, I have to point out that the best part of the story isn’t the walking tree or even Rabbi Joshua upbraiding the walls. The best part is actually what happens afterwards. I quote.

The Gemara relates: Years after, Rabbi Natan encountered Elijah the prophet [who, by the way, never died, but was carried away by God, and thus has inside knowledge of the goings on in Heaven]. Rabbi Natan asked Elijah: 

What did the Holy One, Blessed be He, do at that time, when Rabbi Yehoshua issued his declaration? 

Elijah said to him: 

The Holy One, Blessed be He, smiled and said: My children have triumphed over Me; My children have triumphed over Me.

So, in other words… God Himself takes our side, against Himself. He approves of our rebellion. God is all for the Death of God. Like the Master rejoices at being succeeded and surpassed by the Student, God smiles on humanity’s coming of age.

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So that’s the story of the Oven of Akhnai. Except… it isn’t. Because the story doesn’t end there. And it doesn’t really begin there either.  

So if you want to find out how the story continues, its broader context, and the reason the authors actually brought it up in the first place… join us next time on Philosophical Storytime.