The town of Yavneh marks a critical juncture in Jewish history. In the aftermath of Jerusalem’s destruction and the crushing defeat of the Jewish revolt in 70 CE, the Sanhedrin relocated to Yavneh. It was there that Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai and his disciples began the task of rebuilding the Jewish people.
The Sages in Yoma 9b observed that the root cause of the Second Temple’s destruction lay in the nation’s descent into senseless hatred between sectors of society. Typical of the feelings of resentment and animosity that many simple folk harbored toward the scholars of that era is Rabbi Akiva’s recollection: “When I was an ignoramus, I would say, ‘Who will give me a Torah scholar so that I can bite him like a donkey?'” (Pesahim 49b).
Hatred and intolerance festered into civil strife that tore apart the fabric of the nation. The infighting between the various factions in Jerusalem — the clashes between moderates and Zealots, the bitter rivalries between Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes — weakened Jerusalem from within, leaving it vulnerable to the armies of Vespasian and Titus.
The Sages understood that, after the fall of Jerusalem, the survival of the Jewish people depended on mutual respect and unity. And so, in Yavne, they set their sights on healing rifts and bringing together the different segments of society in a spirit of reconciliation.
The Talmud in Berakhot 17 records the saying of the scholars of Yavneh:
“I am a creature and my counterpart [the unlettered farmer] is a creature. My work is in the city and his work is in the field. I rise early for my work, and he rises early for his. Just as he does not presume to do my work, I do not presume to do his.
And should you say: I engage in much [Torah study and good deeds] while he does less, so I am worthier, it has been taught: One who brings a substantial offering and one who brings a modest offering stand equal, as long as they direct their hearts to Heaven.”
In his commentary on this Talmudic passage, Rav Kook examines the underlying reasons for national disunity and how we may overcome them.
While many factors can give rise to infighting and discord, he identifies a root cause: an excessive self-regard and an inflated sense of one’s own importance. This self-centeredness blinds us to the fundamental truth that we are, at our core, not so different from one another, as we all share the same basic needs and conditions of life.
Rav Kook then proceeds to analyze each section of this saying of the Yavneh scholars:
1. In terms of the basic aspects of life — our physical, psychological, and social needs — there is no difference between one person and the next. People may differ in their occupations and lifestyles, but this bears no relevance to their innate desire to live and fundamental right to life. On that basic level, the differences between us are incidental and do not justify dissociation and alienation. In the simple yet powerful statement of the Yavneh sages: “I am a creature and my counterpart is a creature.”
2. The differences between us are superficial and lack true significance. We all labor and contribute, albeit in different spheres: “My work is in the city, and his work is in the field.”
3. While we are keenly aware of our strengths and contributions to society, we must recognize that others have their own contributions. Some labor in agriculture and industry, others in commerce, healthcare, security, and education. Each plays an essential role in advancing our collective life. All are eager and committed to their occupations: “I rise early for my work, and he rises early for his.”
4. While I may possess strengths and advantages not found in other sectors of society, I must acknowledge that other sectors may possess virtues that I lack. For example, while scholars excel in their Torah knowledge, others may surpass them in generosity and acts of service to society. “Just as he does not presume to do my work” — he does not lay claim to my talents and accomplishments — “so I do not presume to do his.”
5. Finally, one might argue that those most devoted to Torah and mitzvot are the ones most favored in God’s eyes. Even this argument, however, is mistaken. God’s approval rests not on the level of one’s scholarship or the perfection of one’s deeds, but rather on the sincerity and purity of one’s heart. And we cannot know what lies in the inner chambers of another’s heart. There are some whose circumstances and natural abilities limit what they can achieve, yet their heart and efforts, judged by God, attain the highest standard. By contrast, there may be Torah scholars, blessed with intellectual gifts and resources, who fall short of their true potential.
Thus, the Sages of Yavneh would say, “And should you say: I engage in much [Torah study and good deeds] while he does less, so I am worthier, it has been taught: One who brings a substantial offering and one who brings a modest offering stand equal, as long as they direct their hearts to Heaven.”
This was the message of unity and mutual respect in Yavneh, at that dark hour of national crisis. Each of us, even those graced with the greatest wisdom and social standing, should regard all others as our equals, extending to them genuine respect and honor.
(Adapted from Ein Aya vol. 1 on Berakhot 2:59)