4 min read

The Two Disciples Who Answered in Their Teacher's Voice

Two students of Rabbi Yehoshua disguised themselves in Roman dress. An officer who had heard the rabbi teach stopped them at a crossroads.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Disguise That Did Not Hold
  2. The Challenge at the Crossroads
  3. The Three Questions
  4. The Sage and the Officer Who Asked About the Future

The Disguise That Did Not Hold

They had changed their outer garments to Roman dress. This was not a small decision. In the period of Roman religious persecution in the Land of Israel -- after the Temple's destruction in 70 CE and through the suppression that followed -- Jewish scholars walking in public in scholar's garb were targets. The clothes that identified them as Torah students could get them arrested, pressed toward forced conversion, or killed. Some changed what they wore. It was survival, not apostasy.

But the disguise did not fool everyone. A Roman officer who had encountered them before, perhaps who had encountered their teacher, looked at two men in Roman clothing and recognized them anyway. He did not let them pass.

The Challenge at the Crossroads

Bereshit Rabbah, the great midrashic collection on Genesis shaped in Palestine in the fifth century CE, preserves the opening of the encounter. The Exempla of the Rabbis (1924), the collection of rabbinic narrative compiled by Moses Gaster, sharpens the details of the exchange. The officer posed a question that cut through the clothing immediately. If you are sons of the Torah, he said, give your lives for its sake. If you are not sons of the Torah, why should you be killed for it? You cannot hide inside the Torah's clothing while also standing outside its claim on your life. The disguise forced a contradiction: you look like Romans but you carry a Jew's obligations. Choose.

The students answered: we are its sons, and we are willing to be killed for its sake.

The Three Questions

Then the officer asked three specific questions. He had apparently asked these same questions of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananyah on an earlier occasion and memorized the answers. He was not testing whether these students could answer correctly in the abstract. He was testing whether they were who they appeared to be -- whether their knowledge was their own or borrowed from rote learning, whether the reasoning in their answers matched the reasoning he had heard from their teacher's mouth.

The two disciples answered each question in precisely the way Rabbi Yehoshua himself had answered it. Word for word, argument for argument, the same three replies came back to the officer in the same order.

The officer recognized what he was hearing. These were not students who had memorized responses. These were students who had absorbed a way of thinking so completely that they reproduced it without error even under threat. The teacher was present in the answers even though the teacher was absent from the road.

The Sage and the Officer Who Asked About the Future

Bereshit Rabbah preserves a separate encounter between a Roman official and a sage at Beit Seloni, where the official asked the sage directly: who will rule the world after us? The sage answered with a blank piece of paper and a quill. He wrote a verse from Genesis: "Then his brother emerged, his hand grasping Esau's heel." The people watching exclaimed that this was an ancient matter spoken by a modern sage -- that the wrestling of Jacob and Esau in the womb contained the answer to which empire would follow which, that the whole arc of dominion was already written in the birth narrative of the patriarchs.

The two encounters bracket the same problem. Power asks the Torah its questions -- about the future of empires, about what these disguised students actually believe -- and the Torah answers through the mouths of people who know it well enough to speak it under pressure. The officer at the crossroads got the right answers. The official at Beit Seloni got the book of Genesis. In both cases, the Torah did not refuse to engage with the questioner. It spoke through whoever was carrying it at the time.

Rabbi YehoshuaRoman PersecutionMidrashBenjaminJudgmentTorah
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From the tradition

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Bereshit Rabbah 82:8Bereshit Rabbah

The ancient rabbis certainly did, and their struggles echo even today. to a fascinating story tucked away in Bereshit Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations of the Book of Genesis.

Our story begins with the verse, "It was as she had difficulty in her childbirth, the midwife said to her: Fear not; for this too is a son for you" (Genesis 35:17). Seems straightforward. But the rabbis, masters of drash (interpretive storytelling), saw much more.

The story unfolds with two students of Rabbi Yehoshua facing a dilemma. It’s a time of persecution, and they've made a difficult choice: they've changed their outer garments to Roman clothes, hoping to blend in and avoid being identified as Jews. It's a desperate act of self-preservation.

Their disguise doesn't fool everyone. A Roman officer – and here's where it gets interesting – who seems to have Jewish roots and some Torah knowledge, confronts them. He challenges them: "If you are sons of the Torah, give your lives for its sake. If you are not its sons, why should you be killed for its sake?" Ouch. He's essentially asking them to choose: live openly as Jews and risk death, or abandon their faith entirely.

The students respond that they are sons of the Torah and willing to die for it, but that "it is not the way of people to commit suicide." They're acknowledging their faith while also clinging to the instinct to survive. It's a very human response, isn't it?

The officer, clearly not satisfied, throws down the gauntlet. He proposes a test: answer three questions, or face religious persecution – convert or die. The stakes are impossibly high.

The first question revolves around two seemingly contradictory verses: "The Lord stands to dispute [and stands to judge the peoples]" (Isaiah 3:13) versus "As there I will sit to judge all the surrounding nations" (Joel 4:12). How can God both stand and sit in judgment?

The students explain that God judges Israel while standing, offering leniency and abbreviating the trial. But when judging the nations, He sits, is meticulous, and extends the trial. A nice explanation, playing on the idea of divine mercy for the chosen people.

But the officer isn't buying it. He claims Rabbi Yehoshua taught that both verses refer to the nations: God judges them meticulously and then becomes an adversary, standing to implement their punishment. According to this interpretation, found in Matnot Kehuna, there is no preferential treatment.

Next, he asks about the meaning of "One who works his land [admato] will be sated with bread..." (Proverbs 28:19). The students offer a straightforward agricultural interpretation: it's better to cultivate one field well than to neglect many.

Again, the officer rejects their answer. He says Rabbi Yehoshua taught that admato should be understood as ad moto – "until the day of his death." In other words, one who worships God will be sustained until their dying day, while those who pursue vanities (idolaters, as the text notes) will be filled with poverty. A clever play on words revealing a deeper spiritual truth.

Finally, he circles back to the original verse: "It was as she had difficulty in her childbirth..." The students say it's a comforting phrase to reassure the birthing mother that she's delivered a male child.

But the officer has one last twist. He claims Rabbi Yehoshua taught that each tribe was born with a twin sister, referencing Abba Ḥalfoi ben Kureya's teaching that Benjamin had an additional twin sister. Rachel’s concern during childbirth, therefore, wasn't just about having a second son, but about whether Benjamin would receive his rightful twin sister. The midwife's assurance, then, was specifically about the birth of the son.

What does it all mean? This passage from Bereshit Rabbah isn't just about biblical interpretation; it's about identity, survival, and the courage to stand by your beliefs. It's about finding meaning in scripture even when facing impossible choices. The students of Rabbi Yehoshua were caught in a moment of crisis, forced to reconcile their faith with the harsh realities of their time. And aren't we all, in some way, still wrestling with that same tension today?

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Gaster, Exempla no. 65The Exempla of the Rabbis (1924)

During a season of Roman persecution, two disciples of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananyah disguised themselves in Gentile dress and tried to pass unnoticed through dangerous territory. They were recognized anyway by an officer who had seen them before.

The officer did not immediately arrest them. He engaged them in debate. He asked them three specific legal and theological questions, questions he had evidently asked of Rabbi Yehoshua on an earlier occasion. Perhaps he was testing whether they truly belonged to the master they denied, or perhaps he was curious to see whether the students had absorbed the teacher's reasoning.

The two disciples answered each question in precisely the way Rabbi Yehoshua himself had answered it. Word for word, argument for argument, the same three replies came out of their mouths.

The Book of Exempla, compiled by Moses Gaster in 1924 from medieval Jewish manuscripts, preserves the brief notice as example no. 65. The story is one sentence long and contains no moral in the text itself. But the implied moral rings through the brevity.

A disguise can be stripped off. A memorized answer can betray you. The students were known by their thinking. What they had learned from their master was not a set of conclusions. It was a way of walking through a problem. The officer heard Rabbi Yehoshua in their mouths, and a teaching that had been delivered in a classroom returned, unaltered, in a roadside interrogation. That is what real learning looks like.

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Bereshit Rabbah 63:10Bereshit Rabbah

Our story today comes from Bereshit Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Genesis. Specifically, These twin brothers, locked in competition even before birth, offer a fascinating lens through which to view power, deception, and destiny.

"Then his brother emerged" (Genesis 25:26). This seemingly simple line sparked a rather intriguing exchange. The story goes that an officer once asked a Sage in Beit Seloni, "Who will assume the kingdom after us?" The Sage, instead of giving a direct answer, took a blank piece of paper, grabbed a quill, and wrote: "Then his brother emerged, his hand grasping.heel" (Genesis 25:26). The people exclaimed: "See ancient matters from the mouth of a modern Sage, to inform you how much pain that righteous one suffered!" This cryptic response points to the ongoing struggle, the constant striving for dominance that would define the relationship between Jacob and Esau, even hinting at the pain and trials Jacob, the one holding onto Esau’s heel, would endure.

The Torah tells us, "The lads grew; Esau was a man who knows hunting, a man of the field; Jacob was a simple man, a dweller in tents" (Genesis 25:27). Bereshit Rabbah unpacks this verse with layers of meaning. Rabbi Levi offers a beautiful analogy: "This is analogous to a myrtle and a thorn bush that grew adjacent to one another. When they grew and blossomed, this one produced its fragrance and that one produced its thorns." For thirteen years, the boys went to school together. But after that, their paths diverged. Esau gravitated towards idol worship, while Jacob dedicated himself to the study halls.

Rabbi Elazar even makes a rather blunt statement about parental responsibility: A person must be responsible for his son until age thirteen. From there on, he must say: ‘Blessed that He has absolved me from the punishment of this one.’ A stark reminder of the limits of parental influence and the weight of individual choice.

The text continues, "Esau was a man who knows hunting [tzayid]." But the Rabbis see more than just skill in the hunt. He would "ensnare [tzad] people with his mouth," trapping them with deceit. "You [say you] did not steal; who stole with you? You [say you] did not kill, who killed with you?" the verse says, Esau was a master of manipulation, implicating others in his wrongdoings. The Romans, descendants of Esau, were also known to ignore the denials of the accused.

Rabbi Abahu adds another layer, saying Esau was "a man of the field," hunting both literally and figuratively. He hunted "in the house and hunted in the field." He would feign piety, asking seemingly innocent questions like, "How does one prepare salt?" The commentators explain that he was asking about separating teruma and tithes, even though he knew such obligations didn’t apply to salt and straw. It was all an act. He was trying to appear devout, while in reality, he was anything but.

And then there’s Rabbi Ḥiyya's rather shocking interpretation: "He abandoned himself like a field." This refers to engaging in homosexual relations. The text even includes a plea from Israel to God: "Master of the universe, is it not enough that you subjugated us to seventy nations, but even to this one, that engages in relations like a woman?" God's response is equally striking: "I, too, will exact retribution against him with that expression." This is connected to the verse: "The heart of the valiant of Edom will be on that day like the heart of a woman in anguish" (Jeremiah 49:22). This interpretation, while present in the text, reflects a specific cultural and historical context and may not align with contemporary views.

In contrast to Esau, "Jacob was a simple man, a dweller in tents" – specifically, "two tents; the study hall of Shem, and the study hall of Ever." He dedicated himself to learning and spiritual growth.

Finally, the text touches upon the parental dynamic: "Isaac loved Esau because of the game in his mouth, and Rebecca loved Jacob" (Genesis 25:28). Isaac favored Esau for the "good meat for his mouth and a good cup for his mouth", physical pleasures and perhaps also the flattery that Esau offered. But "Rebecca loved Jacob" – "the more she would hear his voice, the more she would add love onto her love for him." Her love was based on something deeper: intellectual connection, shared values, and a genuine understanding of Jacob’s character.

So, what can we take away from this deep dive into Bereshit Rabbah? It's a reminder that appearances can be deceiving. That choices matter. And that the echoes of the past often resonate in the present. The story of Esau and Jacob, as interpreted by the Rabbis, isn't just a historical narrative; it's a timeless exploration of human nature, fraught with complexity, contradiction, and ultimately, the enduring power of choice.

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