LITMIR.BIZ

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instead of that man, appears an old man dressed in black who accompanies him while he enters but stays behind when he leaves, Simon knows that his days are numbered.⁴⁷ It is important to emphasize the locus of his wisdom. The contrast with another rabbinic character, Rabban Yoḥanan ben Zakkai, whose ability to predict the approaching death of the Roman emperor is attributed to his exegetical-midrashic skills (thus legitimizing the foundation of the rabbinic academy in Yavneh), is telling.⁴⁸ Simon the Just’s knowledge stems from, and is inextricable from, his access to the Temple’s innermost sanctum. The presumption is that there he stood close(r) to God. Yet the text is quick to point out that priesthood in and of itself does not guarantee divine proximity. Simon’s death is followed by deterioration in the priestly ranks.

      The characters of Rabban Yoḥanan ben Zakkai and Simon the Just are reflections of the Sages: they are what the rabbis think about such figures and, indirectly, about themselves. As self-reflections, they walk a tightrope, juggling the narcissistic fantasy of identity and the lack of identity-sameness between the subject (Sage) and its representation. Again, it should be emphasized: the lack of sameness is implied in the actual multiplicity of possible reflections. Note also that reflective representations vary in their specific contents, forms, and functions: the discourse surrounding Rabban Yoḥanan ben Zakkai is part of the Yavneh foundation legend.⁴⁹ The ancestral figure and the foundational institution are imagined accordingly as identical—albeit not entirely—to the Sages who were the authors of rabbinic texts. Moreover, in this imaginative landscape, Rabban Yoḥanan and his academy are not only models; they are imagined as the generators of rabbinic identity in the present. Indeed, a different kind of reflexivity manifests itself in the discourse of Simon the Just, a legendary figure whose death marks the beginning of an end.⁵⁰ Reflecting on and with this figure means reflecting about a time in which the mere presence of a unique individual was sufficient to keep the flame of the Temple alive and to appease a mighty king, a time in which knowledge was bestowed by proximity in the inner chambers of the Holy of Holies. It also means reflecting from and about a time when there is no Temple and no Holy of Holies. Reflecting at times when scriptural—and later, textual—exegesis constitutes the backbone of rabbinic hermeneutics, and at times when priesthood has lost its past claim to authority and leadership lies in the hands of rabbinic dynasties.⁵¹

      As the traditions of Simon—including the story of the Nazirite—suggest, the past, or the imagined past, is not obliterated so as to form an identical image of the self in the present. On the contrary, figurative images that are reflected throughout the rabbinic corpus might be termed “internal strangers.” Simon the Just, in our text, is exactly that: he is conceived (as manifestly indicated in tractate Avot) as a rabbinic forefather, a link in a reproductive chain leading up to the rabbinic present(s). The story even ends with a projected sameness, when Simon engages in a typical rabbinic practice: midrash. Yet, as many other rabbinic traditions emphasize, Simon is different. This difference cannot be erased even in our story: the story revolves around sight as an epistemic paradigm as both characters (Simon and the Nazirite) are awakened and stirred to action by what they see. An epistemology based on sight appears elsewhere in rabbinic literature vis-à-vis textually based hermeneutics.⁵² Although that points to the multifaceted aspects of rabbinic hermeneutics (and the epistemologies to which they correspond), it is possible to argue for the supremacy allotted in rabbinic literature as a whole to a text-oriented epistemology. But, as the story of Simon the Just and the Nazirite shows, this supremacy is not uncontested, and the contest is embodied in other or “semi-other” characters.

       The Nazirite: A Possible Self

      The Nazirite sets him- or herself apart,⁵³ albeit temporarily. It is the ambivalence of the Nazirite’s position as an every-person/different that thematizes a same/other tension in his character. This tension is endemic to the Nazirite in general and is characteristic of the Nazirite shepherd of our story as well. After all, he is referred to by his title alone.

      The Nazirite of our story should be seen in yet another general framework: the discursive context from which he derives his title, the laws pertaining to the Nazir. One key question is the relevance of these laws in the rabbinic period. Why are the rabbis discussing a practice that has, on the face of it, no direct consequence for their own time? This question—along with its possible answers—applies to a whole range of rabbinic discussions addressing Temple and cult practices.⁵⁴ It seems that, at least in the early rabbinic period, the practice of Naziriteship persisted, albeit, obviously, without its sacrificial component and the purifying rite from corpse impurity (which required the ashes of a red heifer).⁵⁵ It has also been suggested that Naziriteship represents for the rabbis matters of asceticism in general—a discursive site in which issues of abstention, self-control, and intention are addressed.⁵⁶ Accordingly, if the Nazirite is referred to as both a sinner and a holy person,⁵⁷ it attests to the ambivalence that rabbinic culture(s) held toward a pivotal component of its identity (asceticism), a component defined and redefined vis-à-vis the place it comes to occupy in neighboring cultures and religions (paganism and Christianity).

       A Samson-Like Self

      The Nazirite shepherd of our story operates within a general discursive framework. But he is also a particular Nazirite, implying that reflecting with him and about him may allow for further specifications. He could even be, as noted earlier, a Nazirite whose pure intention is paradoxically manifested in his self-defilement, thus embodying a subversion of the underlying notions of purity and defilement that are essential for the category. Other components render him exceptional. First, we should recall that hair plays a critical role in the story of Samson, the only biblical character explicitly identified as a Nazirite. The story, related in the Book of Judges, has erotic overtones and takes place in the south, between Tsorah and Eshta’ol and in the land of the Philistines. Our story’s shepherd, who also hails from the south, seems to have absorbed something of the erotic vitality associated with his biblical predecessor, especially if we take into account the prominence of Samson in rabbinic discourse on Naziriteship and its emphasis on the key role that sight plays in his destiny.⁵⁸ Something of the power (and maybe potential hubris) that the rabbis attributed to Samson—and his hair—is echoed in our story.

       A David-Like Figure, a Lover, and a Sage

      The figurative echo chamber of the Nazirite from the south includes not only a biblical Nazirite, Samson, but also a king. Like the David described in 1 Sam. 16:10, the Nazirite from the south is a comely shepherd with beautiful eyes. The high priest therefore finds himself face-to-face with a King David figure.⁵⁹ A priestly encounter with a David-like figure in the context of rabbinic and Christian discourse is hardly a trivial matter. After all, Davidic origin, priestly status, and the identity of the messiah are a pivotal triad through which both Judaism and Christianity reflected on themselves vis-à-vis each other.⁶⁰

      Furthermore, the shepherd is described as having a head of curls (qevutsotav taltalim)—an allusion to the famous description of the lover in the Song of Songs (5:11). That the young shepherd should be depicted by Simon the Just in terms of an iconic lover seems hardly surprising, given the overall erotic tone of our story and Simon’s attraction to the boy. Clearly, it is first and foremost the Eros of the biblical lover that is at play here. Yet if we take into account rabbinic associations with the specific scriptural phrase—qevutsotav taltalim—the beautiful lover may take on additional traits. He may even resemble a Sage. Rabbinic traditions of Song of Songs 5:11 replace the lover’s physical beauty with exegetical skills: “‘His locks are curled [Heb., taltalim]’: that [Solomon] used to expound [doresh] ‘curls and curls’ [tille tillim, lit., hills and hills] of laws on each and every portion or verse in the Torah.”⁶¹ The lover’s locks (qevutsotav) are the Torah; his curls are his legal-exegetical practice.

      The shepherd is the missing referent that provides Simon with an answer, albeit a temporary one, to his scriptural or semiotic crisis; he is also a representation of scripture itself. But the depiction of the Nazirite as a personified Torah is also reminiscent of the depiction of the Sages, who are referred to as a Torah scroll and the ark.⁶² Again and again, the implied addressee of the text, presumably

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