The Mitzva of Machlokes
Does shalom always mean peace and harmony? Does maintaining shalom require constant vitur and turning into a doormat? In a machlokes, how can we know who’s right? How can we know if a particular dispute is legitimate or not? If opposing the wicked is a mitzva, why did Moshe Rabbeinu try to appease Doson and Aviram? Why did Rav go to reconcile with the butcher, despite knowing that his visit would lead to the butcher’s death? What is the difference between machlokes and merivah? Why did Beis Shammai and Beis Hillel disagree, and why did their machlokes turn into a national tragedy? What prevented machlokes in the past, and why do we no longer have that safeguard today? How can each community maintain shalom despite having members with sharply different views? What should be compromised for the sake of peace? Why does halachah follow Beis Hillel?
These questions and many more are the subject of this week’s article.
When Disagreement Is Legit — and Even Required
In last week’s article, we discussed the malady of machlokes, and the terrible sins that result from it. However, Rabbenu Yonah (Shaarei Teshuvah, 3:58–59) and the Chareidim (Negative Commandments, chapter 4, mitzvos 42–43) immediately after citing the above grave prohibition, speak of the equally serious prohibition: failing to make machlokes with the wicked. The obvious question is: how can we distinguish between opposing ba’alei aveira, which we must, and a forbidden and destructive machlokes?
The Gemara (Sanhedrin 110a) learns from a pasuk in parashas Korach that one who makes a machlokes with his rebbe is considered as though he disputed the Shechina itself. It continues that one who makes a meriva with his rebbe is considered as though he quarreled with the Shechinah. This is learned from this week’s parashah, as it says, “These are the waters of Merivah, where Bnei Yisroel quarreled with Hashem” (Bamidbar 20:13). In the following article we will try to explain the difference between machlokes, which we discussed last week, and merivah, the category of strife that appears in this week’s parashah.
Reconciling with Doson and Aviram
One of the sources for the prohibition against maintaining a machlokes is the Gemara (Sanhedrin 110a), which learns it from Moshe Rabbeinu's conduct during Korach's rebellion. Although Doson and Aviram had openly rebelled against him, Moshe personally went to them in an attempt to make peace. Rabbenu Yonasan of Lunel (Sanhedrin 20a, Rif) explains that had Moshe not done so, he would have transgressed the prohibition of maintaining a machlokes.
How could this be? Korach and his followers were wicked people who had rebelled against Moshe Rabbeinu and against Hashem. Why was Moshe obligated to seek reconciliation with them? According to the above-mentioned halacha in Sha’arei Teshuva and the Charedim we would have expected the opposite — that Moshe was obligated to fight with them. Why would Moshe’s refraining from pursuing peace be considered a transgression?
Defining Machlokes L’shem Shomayim
The Mishnah (Avos 5:17) writes: “Which machlokes is for the sake of Heaven? The dispute between Hillel and Shammai. And which is not for the sake of Heaven? The dispute of Korach and all his followers.”
From the Mishnah it appears that the forbidden kind of machlokes is one that is not l’shem Shomayim, while a legitimate one -- is. But how can one know whether his machlokes is truly l’shem Shomayim or not?
The Mishna teaches us that Korach’s machlokes is the primary example of a machlokes which is not l’shem Shomayim. Why did Moshe Rabbeinu try to make peace with them?
In order to answer this question, we must study the other half of the Mishna – the machlokes of Hillel and Shammai.
Peace ≠ Compromise
Rav Achai Gaon writes (She’iltos, Parashas Korach, She’ilta 131) that making machlokes is a grave sin because it inevitably leads to transgressing the prohibition of “Do not hate your brother in your heart.” This prohibition applies equally to all Jews, rebbe and talmid alike. He proves this from the fact that Moshe Rabbeinu was obligated to try to appease Doson and Aviram in order to lower the flames of machlokes.
Later, he continues that despite this severe prohibition, when one sees his fellow sinning, he is obligated to rebuke him. Even a disciple who sees his teacher erring, or a son who sees his father making a mistake, is required to call him out on it. However, this must be done respectfully — for example, by asking, “What would the halachah be in such-and-such a case?” This way, the guilty party can come to realize that he has erred or acted improperly on his own.
From Rav Achai Gaon’s words we learn that refraining from creating disputes and showing respect have nothing to do with bending what one believes is the truth. Quite the contrary: one is obligated to even correct another, even an authority figure, when necessary. If so, what exactly is the forbidden form of machlokes?
Making Amends Even When You Are Right
A similar lesson about ending machlokes appears in the Gemara (Yoma 87a): There was a butcher who had acted disrespectfully toward Rav, and on erev Yom Kippur, Rav decided to approach him and make up with him. When Rav Huna saw Rav walking in the direction of the butcher shop, he said, “Rav is going to kill a man!” And indeed, as expected, the butcher turned Rav away: “Abba [Rav’s first name], leave! I don’t want to speak with you.” At that moment, a bone from the animal the butcher was chopping flew up and struck him in the throat, killing him instantly.
Did Rav not know what Rav Huna knew? Did he not realize that a man who had not sought forgiveness even on erev Yom Kippur was not likely to reconcile? And why was the leader of Babylonian Jewry approaching a simple butcher? Why didn’t the butcher come to him?
What lesson is this story coming to teach us?
The Keneses HaGedolah (Chamra V’Chayei, Sanhedrin 110a) learns from Moshe Rabbeinu’s attempt to appease Doson and Aviram that the prohibition of maintaining a machlokes does not depend upon who the rightful party is. Had Moshe failed to approach them, he would have been considered guilty of perpetuating the machlokes.
This sharpens our question: when must one stand firmly for the truth, and when must one seek reconciliation even with the mistaken party?
Merivah, Tar’omes, Machlokes
On the other hand, there is a pasuk: “Do not fight with a man without cause if he has done you no harm” (Mishlei 3:30). This seems to imply that if someone has wronged you, fighting with him is permitted.
Chazal speak of sinas chinam, baseless hatred. Yet elsewhere, halachah recognizes that when one has been wronged is permitted to bear a grudge, and even curse the one who harmed him with the words, “He Who exacted punishment from the generation of the Flood… will exact punishment from one who failed to act properly.” Rabbenu Yonah explains that only an actual halachically-defined wrongdoing justifies fighting with another person. However, simply failing to benefit another does not.
This leads to the question: is one permitted to quarrel with another when he is right? Or are we obligated to seek peace even with the guilty party, and forbidden to maintain any conflict? Does maintaining shalom require us to always yield, or are there times when shalom means something else?
The answer is that machlokes is forbidden, but merivah is permitted. To understand this distinction, we must first define the terms, as machlokes and merivah are very different.
Machlokes vs. Merivah
The Gemara (Sanhedrin 110a) first discusses the prohibition against maintaining a machlokes, and then proceeds to explain the prohibitions against quarreling with one’s teacher, harboring grievances against him, and even questioning him in one’s mind. From this sequence we learn that there are several levels in fighting.
Machlokes is the worst, and forbidden for all, except in two cases, as will be explained at the end of this section. Merivah — open contention — is a lesser evil, which may be justified when someone has wronged another, though it is forbidden toward one’s teacher, regardless of his conduct. Above that is ta’aromes, a grievance, which is permitted even when one merely fails to live up to his word. However, toward one’s rebbe this, too, is forbidden.
The most subtle form is entertaining doubts or grievances in one’s mind, which is also forbidden in regards with one’s rebbe.
Rashi (Sanhedrin 110a) explains these distinctions. Merivah is open contention, where one publicly raises claims and engages in argument. Ta’aromes is a milder form of criticism, publicly expressing that another’s conduct is inappropriate. According to the Targum Yonasan (Bamidbar 21:5), and as cited by the Chida (Birkei Yosef YD 242) in the name of Rabbi Chaim Abulafia (Eitz HaCayim Bamidbar 21:5), “questioning” refers to harboring such thoughts even without expressing them.
Creating a machlokes is something else entirely. The Tzror HaMor (Parashas Korach) explains that machlokes comes from the word chelek – parting, separation. Machlokes, Chazal tell us, was created on the second day, when the firmament separated the upper waters from the lower waters. The two waters weren’t fighting. There is no quarrel between the upper and lower waters; merely existing in separate realms is machlokes.
In other words, the prohibition of machlokes is not in having another opinion, or even arguing with the other party. People are entitled to have their own opinion, and people who live together naturally get into arguments. The terrible malady of machlokes is in splitting into separate camps, severing relationships, forming rival communities, and creating divisions — akin to the prohibition of lo sisgodedu, “do not form separate factions.”
When Avraham Avinu told Lot, “Please separate from me… let there be no strife between us,” he was effectively saying: Let us remain friends. I would still come to your aid if you were in danger. But from a distance, without close association. That separation is machlokes.
Yet Chazal recognize two situations in which machlokes is justified: 1) When dealing with the wicked -- in such cases one must separate — not by quarreling with them, but by keeping a distance and, if necessary, maintaining a distinct community. And 2): When the disagreement is genuinely for the sake of Heaven, as was the case of Beis Shammai and Beis Hillel.
Machlokes L’shem Shomayim
The Rambam (Hilchos Mamrim 1:4), based on the Gemara (Sanhedrin 88a; Yerushalmi Chagigah 2:2), explains a remarkable historic phenomenon: from Matan Torah until the Second Beis Hamikdash, there was no enduring halachic division within Klal Yisrael. The Torah was transmitted in a unified whole. The very first machlokes occurred between Beis Hillel and Beis Shammai – the disciples of Hillel, and those of Shammai.
While the Gemara mentions various halachic disputes in earlier generations, those were eventually resolved, and the Torah was transmitted continuously without lasting division. There were debates among earlier sages, such as those that arose during the times of the Shoftim and the Kings, Shaul and Dovid. Issues such as whether the pasuk is interpreted as “an Ammonite male, but not an Ammonite female,” or whether one who betroths a woman through a loan effects a valid kiddushin. However, all the issues were eventually decided, and the halacha remained one.
How was this possible? Why was there no machlokes before Beis Hillel and Beis Shammai?
Beis Shammai and Beis Hillel
The Rambam explains that as long as the Great Sanhedrin functioned, there was no permanent machlokes in Am Yisroel. Every halachic disagreement was first brought before the local Beis Din. If the matter remained unresolved, it was elevated through the beis din system until it reached the Great Sanhedrin. When the judges themselves disagreed, they would thoroughly analyze and clarify the issue, after which a vote was taken, and the halachah was determined according to the majority opinion.
Only after the Great Sanhedrin ceased functioning in its full authority did the separate factions of Beis Shammai and Beis Hillel emerge, leaving enduring division in Klal Yisrael. Due to the lack of a universally recognized authority capable of issuing a final ruling, machlokes remained.
But what was this machlokes? The disagreement between Beis Shammai and Beis Hillel was more than a halachic debate. For the first time, a genuine division existed within the Jewish people -- two batei midrash, each with its own approach and methodology. The dispute could not easily be resolved because each school approached the Torah and its interpretation through a fundamentally different lens. Beis Shammai were renowned for their extraordinary sharpness and intellectual rigor, while the majority of students studied in the Beis Hillel academy.
Prior to this, even when the Nasi and the Av Beis Din approached Torah differently, they remained within a single beis midrash. The fact that they reached opposite conclusions illustrated each’s distinct understanding in Torah, yet they continued to learn together. Hillel HaZaken famously climbed onto the roof to hear Shmaya and Avtalyon (Yoma 35b) who both taught Torah together. There was no separate “academy of Shmaya” and “academy of Avtalyon.”
This is why the division between Beis Shammai and Beis Hillel is classified as a machlokes. It was not a quarrel or a difference in opinion; it was a split.
The Gemara (Sanhedrin 88b) criticizes the situation they reached, stating that had the disciples of both Shammai and Hillel exerted greater effort to fully grasp their rebbes’ intent, matters might never have reached this point and the split would not have occurred.
The Gemara concludes that as a result, “the Torah became like two Torahs.” In a sense, Klal Yisrael permanently lost the complete unified halachic understanding that had previously existed. Since then, and until Moshiach arrives and restores the Great Sanhedrin, there will always be contradicting batei midrash and different traditions of learning. Each person remains obligated to adhere to his mesorah, methodology, and approach to halachah as he received from his teachers.
A Dispute “For the Sake of Heaven”
If machlokes is division, why is it prohibited? The She’iltos (She’ilta 131) explains that the prohibition of machlokes stems from the fact that it leads to baseless hatred. Disagreement, by itself, is not hatred. But when disagreement becomes poisoned by bitterness and personal animosity, it can become one of the most destructive forces imaginable.
When their great teachers, Shammai HaZaken and Hillel HaZaken, were no longer there to settle the questions that had arisen, the Great Sanhedrin was no longer in its proper place, and there was no universally recognized authority to resolve the growing disputes, the disciples of Hillel and Shammai found themselves facing a crisis. Indeed, it was a crisis of national proportion – they were the Torah leaders of the previous generation, and all of Am Yisroel belonged to one of the two factions. In practice, the only way forward was to split into two nations — one that followed the teachings and methodology of Beis Shammai, the other -- those of Beis Hillel.
And yet, Chazal stress, this division was entirely l'shem Shamayim. It was never about honor, influence, prestige, or winning an argument. Far from it. Both sides were searching for the same thing: the truth of the Torah and the will of Hashem. They disagreed passionately, but never personally. Their debates remained in the beis midrash and never spilled over into their relationships. Though they differed sharply in halachah, they continued to live together as one people, bound by mutual respect and genuine affection, marrying into each other’s families, and maintaining close ties.
The Gemara (Shabbos 17a) teaches that the day on which the division occurred was as difficult for Klal Yisrael as the day on which the Golden Calf was made. In other words, both sides saw the division as a tragedy. They felt forced into it with tremendous sorrow and continued to hope for the day when the batei midrash could once again be united or when a definitive resolution could be reached. Megilas Ta'anis records the day it occurred, the ninth of Adar, as a communal fast day for future generations.
The Gemara (Yevamos 14b) describes the practical difficulties this created. In some areas of marriage law, the dispute produced dramatic consequences. For example, according to Beis Shammai, certain co-wives (tzaros) were obligated in yibbum, while according to Beis Hillel such unions constituted a severe prohibition and the resulting children would be regarded as mamzerim. Similarly, if a woman was betrothed with an amount worth more than a perutah but less than a dinar, Beis Hillel viewed the kiddushin as valid, while Beis Shammai did not. If she subsequently married another man, the children would be perfectly legitimate according to Beis Shammai, but mamzerim according to Beis Hillel.
Such differences could have made marriage between the two groups virtually impossible. Yet, the Gemara states that Beis Shammai and Beis Hillel continued to marry into one another’s families. When a member of one group knew that a particular family relationship would be viewed as problematic according to the other opinion, he would simply disclose the information beforehand. Only in those specific cases would a proposed match not proceed.
The Gemara concludes: “This teaches that they conducted themselves toward one another with love and friendship, fulfilling the pasuk: ‘Love truth and peace’” (Zechariah 8:19).
Here, then, the Gemara provides the defining test of a dispute that is truly l'shem Shamayim.
If a disagreement breeds hostility, personal attacks, and a spirit of combat; if its participants relish the fight itself; if the dispute becomes a vehicle for ego, honor, or hidden personal interests — then this is a Korach-style dispute, something from which we must flee.
But when the disagreement itself is painful; when those involved view the division as a tragedy rather than a victory; when, aside from the actual point of dispute, they continue treating one another with affection, respect, and friendship; when they are seeking both truth and peace, yet circumstances compel them to maintain separate communities — then theirs’ is a machlokes l’shem Shomayim.
That was the model set by Beis Shammai and Beis Hillel, and by that yardstick every machlokes must be measured.
Halachah Follows Beis Hillel
The Gemara (Eruvin 13b) describes how the great dispute was ultimately resolved: “For three years Beis Shammai and Beis Hillel disagreed. These said, ‘The halachah follows us,’ and those said, ‘The halachah follows us.’ Finally, a Heavenly Voice proclaimed: ‘These and those are the words of the living G-d, but the halachah follows Beis Hillel.’”
The Gemara asks: If both views are “the words of the living G-d,” why was the halachah established according to Beis Hillel? It answers: “Because they were humble and forbearing. They studied both their own opinions and those of Beis Shammai, and they would even mention the views of Beis Shammai before their own.”
Beis Hillel held the majority, but Beis Shammai were sharper and more penetrating. One might therefore have argued that superior brilliance should outweigh numbers. We find a similar concept in medicine: generally, halachah follows the majority of physicians, yet if one renowned specialist disagrees with many ordinary doctors, his opinion may carry greater weight, since he, with his deeper expertise, understands what others overlook.
Beis Shammai maintained that their superior sharpness justified following their view despite their being the minority. Beis Hillel appreciated their greatness, and therefore took their arguments with utmost seriousness. They would study their opinions carefully and even cite them before presenting their own. Only after fully grappling with Beis Shammai's reasoning did they conclude that the halachah was otherwise. For that reason, the halachah was established in accordance with Beis Hillel.
The same idea underlies the principle of halachah kebasrai — that we generally follow the later halachic authority. A later Amora or Rishon approaches his predecessors with deep reverence and an instinctive reluctance to disagree. Therefore, if after careful study he does reach a different conclusion, we assume that he has thoroughly examined the earlier opinion and found compelling grounds to depart from it. His disagreement itself testifies to the seriousness and depth of his analysis, and for that reason the halachah often follows the later authority.
Disagreeing with Resha’im
Now we know what machlokes is and what it is not, as well as how to recognize a true machlokes l’shem Shomayim.
Indeed, the defining factor is personal bias. This is the lesson that the Torah teaches us from Moshe Rabbeinu conduct. Even after Hashem commanded him (Bamidbar 16:24): “Speak to the congregation, saying: ‘Move away from around the dwelling places of Korach, Dosan, and Aviram,’” thus ordering him to split away from Korach and his disciples, the Torah tells us that “Moshe arose and went to Doson and Aviram, and the elders of Yisrael followed him” (ibid. 25).
Moshe went to them himself in order to establish beyond all doubt that this machlokes was truly and entirely not l’shem Shomayim. The Gemara tells us that had Moshe not gone, he would have been considered guilty of perpetuating a machlokes.
Only after this effort failed and Moshe had demonstrated clearly that he had no personal interest -- did he announce the machlokes, the split from the wicked: “Depart, please, from the tents of these wicked men, and touch nothing that belongs to them, lest you be swept away in all their sins” (ibid. 26).
The Torah then tells us the consequences: “They moved away from around the dwelling place of Korach, Doson, and Aviram. And Doson and Aviram came out, standing defiantly at the entrance of their tents, together with their wives, children, and infants” (ibid. 27).
Despite Moshe's efforts at reconciliation, despite his willingness to humble himself to prevent the split, Dosan and Aviram emerged in brazen defiance. Their posture — “standing”— connotes insolence and stubbornness. In so doing, they sealed their tragic fate.
Rav acted in precisely this manner. When he had a conflict with the butcher, he felt obligated, on erev Yom Kippur, to humble himself and seek reconciliation, so that Am Yisroel could enter the holy day united. Rav Huna already foresaw the outcome, and Rav himself likely knew exactly with whom he was dealing. Yet in order not to be considered the one who perpetuated the machlokes, he had to make the effort. By doing so, Rav ensured that he was completely free of personal motives and that his actions were purely l’shem Shomayim. Then, when it was clear that butcher alone bore responsibility for the machlokes, did the terrible punishment follow.
Summary
Machlokes — separation from a fellow Jew — is among the most painful occurrences. Nevertheless, it is justified in two situations: when the split is made on pure spiritual grounds, for the sake of Hashem and nothing else; and when the other party is wicked.
In our prolonged exile, we’ve developed different communities, traditions, and approaches to Torah learning. In most cases, halachah obligates us to adhere to the customs and teachings handed down to us by parents and rebbes. Yet, we are equally obligated to respect those who disagree with us and sincerely believe that halachah requires a different approach. Only when we continue treating one another with affection, friendship, and peace in every area other than the specific point of disagreement can we truly say that we “love truth and peace” and that our intentions are solely for the sake of Heaven.
However, if disagreement brings on quarrelling, insults, and hatred, it is a sign that the machlokes is a Korach-inspired split.
Even when we believe separation from the wicked is necessary, we must first scrutinize ourselves carefully. Do we have any personal interests involved? Have we hastily branded others as wicked? Have we humbled ourselves and genuinely tried to correct them and bring them back?
Only after such sincere efforts have been exhausted does separation become not merely permissible, but necessary.
