IN Jabneh, surrounded by his disciples, Rabbi Jochanan received the terrible news of the fall of Jerusalem and the burning of the Temple. Although he had foreseen the calamity, yet the news crushed the soul of the great master. He and his disciples tore their garments and for seven days wept and mourned in sackcloth and ashes. Jochanan, however, did not despair, for he recognized the truth that Judaism was not indissolubly bound with its Temple and its altar. He saw a new spiritual Temple emerge from the ruins and smoke of the old one; he beheld Judaism rising to a higher plane, offering faith, love, truth and happiness to all humanity. He comforted his colleagues and disciples by reminding them that Judaism still existed. "My children," he said, "weep not, and dry your tears; the Romans have destroyed the material Temple, but the true altar of God, the true place of forgiveness, they could not destroy, and it is with us yet. Would you know where? Behold, in the homes of the poor, there is the altar; love, charity, mercy, and justice are the offerings, the sweet incense which pleases the Lord more than any sacrifice, as it is written: For I take pleasure in mercy and not in burnt offerings." The next step taken by Rabbi Jochanan and his friends was to convoke a Synhedrion at Jabneh, of which he was at once chosen president. With no opposition, Jabneh took the place of Jerusalem, and became the religious national center for the dispersed community. It enjoyed the same religious privileges as Jerusalem. All the important functions of the Synhedrion, by which it exercised a judicial and uniting power over the distant congregations, proceeded from Jabneh.
Rabbi Jochanan's motto was: "If thou hast learnt much Torah, ascribe not any merit to thyself, for thereunto wast thou created." He found his real calling in the study of the Law. His knowledge was spoken of reverently as though it included the whole cycle of Jewish learning. And not only the Law but many languages of the Gentiles occupied the active mind of Rabbi Jochanan. The following description of him is handed down to us by tradition: "He had never been known to engage in any profane conversation. He had always been the first to enter the Academy. He never allowed himself, wittingly or unwittingly, to be overtaken by sleep while in the Academy. He had never gone a distance of four cubits without meditating on the Torah and without phylacteries. No one ever found him engaged in anything but study. He always lectured in person to his pupils. He never taught anything which he did not hear from his masters. He had never been heard to say that it was time to leave the Academy." He advised a certain family in Jerusalem, the members of which died young, to occupy itself with the study of the Torah, so as to mitigate the curse of dying in the prime of life.
Rabbi Jochanan as Teacher and Commentator
RABBI Jochanan ben Zakkai may be designated as the representative of Halachic Judaism, founded by the great master Hillel, rather than as an originator or independent thinker. Hillel, the most respected of all the teachers of the Law, had given to Judaism a special garb and form. He had drawn the Law from the midst of contending sects into the quiet precincts of the Beth-Hamidrash, and labored to bring into harmony those precepts which were apparently opposed to one another in the Law. Rabbi Jochanan employed and developed Hillel's method. Like Hillel, he was also liberal in his general views. Thus he seems to have frequently engaged in discussions with heathens. And such was his general affability and courtesy to all that no man was ever known to have anticipated his salutations. The Haggadic tradition connects numerous and various sayings with the name of Rabbi Jochanan. The Haggadah was a peculiarly fascinating branch of study. Abounding in brilliant sallies, displays of ingenuity, and wonderful stories, it gave special scope for the cleverness and the rich imagination of the lecturers. By it a Halachah might be illustrated, or a passage of Scripture commented upon in a novel fashion. Without binding himself to any strict exegetical principles, the Haggadist would bring almost anything out of the text, and interweave his comment with legends. At the same time, the Haggadah remained only the personal saying of the individual teacher, and its value depended upon his learning and reputation, or upon the names which he could quote in support of his statements.
In this manner Rabbi Jochanan explained many laws and rendered them comprehensible, when they seemed obscure or extraordinary. Rabbi Jochanan's view of piety corresponded with his teaching that Job's piety was not based on the love of God, but on the fear of God. To love God; to serve Him out of love and not out of fear; to study the law continually, and to have a good heart—these were the essentials of a pious man. He once saw the daughter of Nakdimon ben Gurion picking up a scanty nourishment of barley-corn from among the hoofs of the horses of the enemy. When he recognized the woman, he broke out in tears and told his companion how he had signed her marriage contract as a witness when her father gave her one million golden dinars, besides the wealth she received from her father-in-law. Then the old sage exclaimed: "Unhappy nation, you would not serve God, therefore you must serve your enemies; you would not offer half a shekel for the Temple, therefore you must pay thirty times as much to the institutions of your conquerors; you refused to keep the woods and paths in order for the pilgrims, therefore you must build roads and bridges for the Roman soldiers; and in you is fulfilled the prophecy: Because thou servest not the Lord with joyfulness, and with gladness of heart, by reason of abundance of all things, therefore shalt thou serve thy enemies, which the Lord shall send against thee, in hunger and in thirst and in nakedness and in want of all things."
Jochanan's Spirit in Affliction and in Death
RABBI Jochanan had domestic as well as national troubles. A dearly beloved son was taken from him by death, and the soul of the father was filled with grief. His five famous scholars came to offer sympathy and consolation. One recalled the sorrow that Adam had endured when he looked at the body of his murdered son. Another one urged the example of Job; a third, that of Aaron, the brother of Moses; a fourth, that of David, King of Israel.
"My sons," said the stricken father, "how can the sufferings of others alleviate my sorrow?" But Eliezer ben Aroch, the most famous of his scholars, then spoke to him and said:
"A certain man had a priceless jewel entrusted to him. He watched it by day and by night for its safe keeping, but was always troubled by the thought that he might lose it. When, therefore, the owner of the jewel came to take it back, the man was happy, because he no longer had to fear for the safety of the precious jewel. Even so, dear master, thou shouldst rejoice when thou hast given thy son to God, who trusted thee with him, since thou hast returned him in his innocence as thou didst first receive him."
"My son," said the master, "thou hast truly comforted me."