We look back with nostalgia, imagining that the giants of the past held all the answers. But Jewish tradition challenges that very notion.

The idea that each generation has its own unique wisdom and authority is a powerful one. Rabbi Abba bar Kahana, or perhaps Rabbi Ada bar Ḥunya (the tradition attributes this teaching to both), puts it bluntly: Don't idealize the past. Don't say, "If Rabbi Akiva were alive, I'd study Torah with him," or "If Rabbi Zeira and Rabbi Yoḥanan were here, I'd study Mishna (oral law) with them." The generation you're in, and the sages you have now, are just as valuable as those who came before.

It’s a pretty radical idea, isn't it? It suggests that divine wisdom isn't confined to a specific time or place.

Rabbi Yoḥanan brings prooftexts from the book of Samuel (I Samuel 12:6, 12:11), pointing out how seemingly "lesser" figures like Gideon (Yerubaal), Samson (Bedan), and Jephthah (Yiftah) are placed on the same level as Samuel, and even compared to Moses and Aaron, in terms of their significance. As we find in Psalms (99:6), "Moses and Aaron among his priests, and Samuel among those who call His name." What does this mean?

The Midrash (rabbinic commentary) understands this to mean that the court of Gideon was as significant to God as the court of Moses! The court of Samson was equivalent to that of Aaron, and Jephthah's court held the same weight as Samuel's. Even if someone seems insignificant, if they are appointed a leader in the community, they are equivalent to the noblest of predecessors.

This isn't just some abstract theological concept. It has real-world implications. Deuteronomy (17:9) tells us to go "to the priests, the Levites, and to the judge who will be in those days…" Rabbi Yoḥanan asks a simple, logical question: Can you go to a judge who isn't in your generation? Of course not! The very phrasing "who will be in those days" emphasizes that the judge of your time is just as valid as the judges of the past. That's why Ecclesiastes (7:10) warns us, "Do not say: 'How was it that the former days were better than these?'"

Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish adds another layer, advising that we should only listen to the judge of our own time. He brings a verse from Numbers (36:1) about the heads of the families of Gilead, highlighting the different ways the word "fathers" (avot) is used, suggesting that leadership is fluid and changes with each generation.

The Midrash continues with more examples: Rabbi Berekhya interprets a verse in Chronicles (I Chronicles 12:28) to mean that if Aaron had lived in the time of Yehoyada, Yehoyada would have been greater. Similarly, Rabbi Simai suggests that if Aaron and his sons were alive, Tzadok would still be greater because of his position in that era (I Chronicles 6:34).

Rabbi Hillel even points to a verse in Nehemiah (8:17) about the festival of Sukkot, where the name Joshua (Yehoshua) is written in a slightly diminished form (Yeshua), to indicate that Ezra, the leader at the time, deserved even greater honor. And the Rabbis, citing Ezra (7:5-6), suggest that had Aaron been alive, Ezra would still have been considered the chief.

So, what's the takeaway here? It's not about dismissing the wisdom of the past. It's about recognizing that wisdom is constantly being reinterpreted and reapplied to the challenges of the present. It's about trusting the leaders and teachers who are here now, grappling with the issues we face today. Each generation builds upon the foundations laid by those who came before, but each also brings its own unique perspective and understanding. Can we fully embrace the wisdom that exists in our own time, trusting that our leaders, our teachers, and even ourselves, have something valuable to contribute to the ongoing story of our tradition?