The prophet is a mediator between the voice of reason and conscience, on the one hand, and the feelings of mystical reverence, on the other.5 He revitalizes the tradition precisely because it is transformed in his consciousness, by the white fire of religious ecstasy. The prophet sees the heavenly Vision of Perfection, as if it were concrete reality here on earth, but he interprets its meaning in the rational terms of everyday life—the Way of Wisdom.
A renowned biblical scholar pointed to the tension between prophet and priest, as forming the perennial source of self-renewal in the West:
The Judeo-Christian religious continuum is historically a synthesis of two main factors. First, we have a developing pattern of Covenants between God and early Israel, governing faith, ethics and cult. Second, we see the interaction of two distinct elements in periodic tension; an institutionalized hierarchy of religious functionaries and an upsurge of charismatic spiritual leaders. Because of this ever-renewed tension between hierarchy and charisma, the Judeo-Christian continuum has always been capable of periodic self-criticism—a process to which Western conscience owes its persistent revivals of sensitivity.6
The Sage is the third hero-image of the Bible. He is the teacher of practical wisdom, which is concerned with the attainment of success and happiness here on earth. The precepts of wisdom were more or less international in character. Such books as Job, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes deal with human problems in a context that is not specifically Jewish. Since the biblical canon includes the writings of the Sages as well as those of the priests and prophets, it tempers the fiery lava of prophetic revelation with the cool stream of gnomic wisdom that is both practical and universal. The Sage appeals to reason, human experience, or the common mind of man. The tripartite structure of the Hebrew Bible suggests that the wisdom of the Sages derives from God, as much as the prophets revelation and the priest’s tradition. Wisdom asserts, “The Lord created me at the beginning of His work, the first of His acts of old.”7 Thus wisdom antedated the Torah in the mind of God. The prophet Jeremiah was inclined to equate the three components of the sacred tradition: “For there shall not be lost the Torah of the priest, the word of the prophet, and the counsel of the Sage.”8 Following is Philo’s description of the stature of Moses as prophet, priest, and philosopher:
We have now fully treated of two sides of the life of Moses, the royal and the legislative. We must proceed to give account of the third, which concerns his priesthood.9
. . . The chief and most essential quality required by a priest is piety, and this he practiced in a very high degree, and at the same time made use of his great natural gifts. In these, philosophy found a good soil, which she improved still further by the admirable truths which she brought before his eyes, nor did she cease until the fruits of virtue shown in word and deed were brought to perfection. Thus he came to love God and be loved by Him, as have been few others. A heaven-sent rapture inspired him, so markedly did he honor the Ruler of the All and was honored in return by Him. . . .
But first he had to be clean, as in soul so also in body, to have no dealings with any passion, purifying himself from all the calls of mortal nature, food and drink and intercourse with women. This last he had disdained for many a day, almost from the time when, possessed by the spirit, he entered on his work as a prophet, since he held it fitting to hold himself always in readiness to receive the oracular messages. As for eating and drinking, he had no thought of them for forty successive days, doubtless because he had the better food of contemplation. . . .10
. . . Afterwards the time came when he had to make his pilgrimage from earth to heaven, and leave this mortal life for immortality, summoned thither by the Father Who resolved his twofold nature of soul and body into a single unity, transforming his whole being into mind, pure as the sunlight.11
In the post-biblical period, the three biblical hero-images were blended into a new heroic image, that of the Disciple of the Wise (talmid hacham). This popular ideal emerged slowly, after a number of experiments. The early pietists (hassidim horishonim) of the second century, before the common era, formed probably the basic society of spiritual athletes, out of which there diverged in later years the Essenes, the Theraputae of Philo, the sectarians of the recently found Dead Sea Scrolls, and the Pharisees. In their turn, the Pharisees were pulled apart by the tensions between a militant activism and a submissive quietism, between zealous exclusiveness and a missionary universalism, between the passion for individual excellence and the ideal of serving the entire community, between the puritanical ambition to control every aspect of life and a human recognition of the virtues of diversity.
After the destruction of the Temple, the ideal of the talmid hacham began to preempt the collective energies of the people. The Sages of the Mishnah and the Talmud were called hachamim, Wise Men, by the people, but they referred to themselves by the less pretentious designation, Disciples of the Wise. This hero-image, the talmid hacham, was modified in subtle and diverse ways in the various lands of the Diaspora. Yet, its basic lineaments may be discerned in life and literature down to our own day.
The Disciple of the Wise is a blend of priest, prophet, and sage. Like the priest, his life is hedged about with numerous rituals, from the moment he awakens to the reading of the Shema in bed. He eats “his secular food in accordance with the priestly requirements of purity.”12 The law envelops his life as an Oriental woman is wrapped in garments, from head to toe. He delights in obedience, shunning the very thought of deviation. Rabbi Akiva, incarcerated in jail, was given only a small cup of water, which he could use either to wash his hands, in keeping with the injunction of the rabbis, or drink. He preferred to wash his hands, saying, “I’d rather die than transgress the words of my colleagues.” 13
Yet, the Disciple of the Wise is a prophet, as well as a priest. In matters of thought, he is restless. Disdaining to force his mind into the rutted grooves of a hallowed tradition, he questions and assays the ancient answers. He seeks to understand “the reasons of the Commandments”; he confronts the realities of the market place and battles for the amelioration of the ills of society; he is cognizant of the ethical dimension, beyond the line of the Law; as an athlete of the spirit, he endeavors to reach beyond the goals of moral perfection to that mystical consummation of Ruah hakodesh, when the Spirit of Holiness lends a Divine resonance to every utterance. His piety is activist, even if not militant, full-bodied and community-minded, even when it plumbs the depths of the soul and aims at the salvation of the individual. In addition, he is also an heir of the Sages, willing “to learn from all men,” keeping his mind open to the varied challenges of the environment, and continuing the tradition of coining brief, memorable precepts for instruction in the ways of the good life. He is a lifelong student, refusing to decide an issue “in the presence of his master,” but he is also a dedicated teacher, who offers instruction freely to all who will listen, even as God confers wisdom freely upon all who listen with heart and soul.
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