Part One  

Babylonian Talmud, Bava Metzia 84a

The Gemara relates:   One day, Rabbi Yohanan was bathing in the Jordan River. Resh Lakish saw him and jumped into the Jordan, pursuing him. At that time, Resh Lakish was the leader of a band of marauders.   Rabbi Yohanan said to Resh Lakish: “Your strength for Torah.”  Resh Lakish said to him: “Your beauty for women.”  Rabbi Yohanan said to him: “If you return to the pursuit of Torah, I will give you my sister in marriage, who is more beautiful than I am.”  Resh Lakish accepted upon himself to study Torah. Subsequently, Resh Lakish wanted to jump back out of the river to bring back his clothes, but he was unable to return, as he had lost his physical strength as soon as he accepted the responsibility to study Torah upon himself.  Rabbi Yoḥanan taught Reish Lakish Mishna, and taught him Talmud, and turned him into a great man. Eventually, Resh Lakish became one of the outstanding Torah scholars of his generation.

Wrestling with God and Men by Rabbi Steven Greenberg

. . Resh Lakish sheds his heavy gladiatorial vestments, surely hopeful of a sexual conquest, and pole vaults over the river to find neither a woman nor a delicate boy, but the famous scholar Rabbi Yohanan. Seemingly unflustered by the intrusion, the rabbi comments on the virile power of his would-be attacker with a brief statement, “Your strength for Torah,” meaning, “Your manly power could be put to better use in the study of Torah.” . . .   The wise rabbi does not criticize or reprimand. He merely suggests that if the young man wishes a conquest, then the conquest of Torah is more valorous than gladiatorial conquests. Resh Lakish does not respond to this point and instead . . . says to him, “Your beauty for women!” Again a brief expression, this retort can be read in two very different ways. “Your beauty is for women” might mean “only a woman should possess such beauty” or alternatively “your beauty should be properly used for seducing women; let’s go!”   In this terse dialogue between the two men, it appears that each is attempting to belittle the manhood of the other. R. Yohanan is marking Resh Lakish as a gentile-Jew who is less than a full man because real men study Torah. Resh Lakish is marking R. Yohanan as a man-woman because real men are not beautiful objects of desire but aggressive sexual predators. . . .   R. Yohanan had originally intended to address the masculine power and aggression of his intruder by assuring him that these masculine arts ought to be deployed in Torah study… The critique of Roman masculinity is not that it is aggressive per se, but that its aggression is played out in the wrong arena. Jewish masculinity is won in valorous contests fought with words. The wise students of Torah engage upon a textual battlefield, tongues in place of swords, subduing a feminine Torah, whose secrets they uncover. While the Torah will not be taken without her suitors dueling over her, such contests over real women are not necessary. Resh Lakish is assured that he does not need gladiatorial aggression to get sex. . . .

• Resh Lakish trades his physical “virility” for the “pursuit of Torah.” In your own life, have you ever felt you had to sacrifice a “masculine” trait (like physical toughness or aggression) to gain an “intellectual” or “spiritual” one? Did it feel like a loss or a gain? 
• Greenberg suggests that Torah study is a “valorous contest” that replaces gladiatorial conquest. Does shifting the “battlefield” from the physical to the intellectual actually change the nature of masculinity, or does it just give it a new outfit? 

Part Two

Babylonian Talmud, Bava Metzia 84a

One day the Sages of the study hall were engaging in a dispute concerning the [purity and impurity of] the sword, the knife, the dagger, the spear, and the sickle… The Sages asked: When is their manufacture considered complete?  Rabbi Yoḥanan said: It is from when one fires these items in the furnace.  Resh Lakish said: It is from when one scours them in water, after they have been fired in the furnace.  Rabbi Yoḥanan said: A bandit knows about his banditry, [i.e., you are an expert in weaponry because you were a bandit in your youth.]  Resh Lakish said: What benefit did you provide me by bringing me close to Torah? There, among the bandits, they called me Master, and here, too, they call me Master.  Rabbi Yoḥanan said to him: I provided benefit to you, as I brought you close to God, under the wings of the Divine Presence.  As a result of the quarrel, Rabbi Yoḥanan was offended, which in turn affected Reish Lakish, who fell ill.

Wrestling with God and Men by Rabbi Steven Greenberg

The debate in the study hall is over weapons. It is here that our two rabbis tragically renew their debate on violence and words of Torah. R. Yohanan’s sarcastic remark, “a brigand is expert in brigandage,” may have been delivered as a sharp personal attack or as a teasing jest. We would have no way of knowing. . . .  Where the misunderstanding begins does not really matter. By the end both men are personally insulted and deeply hurt. Most important is that R. Yohanan has taken to heart Resh Lakish’s biting critique that Torah scholarship is not so different from gladiatorial prowess. Both are mere power games of men seeking to be called “master” by other men. . . .

• Resh Lakish notes that both among bandits and in the study hall, he is called “Master.” Why is the title of “Master” or “Leader” so central to traditional male identity? 
• Rabbi Yohanan uses Resh Lakish’s history as a bandit to win a technical argument. Have you ever felt that your “old self” is still used by others to define or limit you? 

Part Three

Babylonian Talmud, Bava Metzia 84a

Rabbi Yoḥanan’s sister, who was Reish Lakish’s wife, came crying to Rabbi Yoḥanan, begging that he pray for Reish Lakish’s recovery. She said to him: Do this for the sake of my children, so that they should have a father. Rabbi Yoḥanan [refused]. Ultimately, Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish, Reish Lakish, died.

Wrestling with God and Men by Rabbi Steven Greenberg

. . . The sister of R. Yohanan (the wife of Resh Lakish) comes to beg her brother to prevent her husband’s death. . . . The fact that she gets nowhere with R. Yohanan attests either to his utter rejection of her interests  or that her tearful entreaty only further incites a very jealous man to rashness. . . .   This story rejects the Roman male virtue of physical aggression but admits that even in the world of rabbis, men can die of wounds they inflict on one another. It demonstrates that even kinder, gentler men can still impose their will on women, albeit in less overtly violent ways, and that verbal repartee between men can at times be no less bloody than physical sparring.

• In this story, the woman (who is both Yohanan’s sister and Resh Lakish’s wife) represents the human cost of the men’s ego. When does the pursuit of “masculine honor” help us support our families and communities? When does it  conflict with their needs? When does it prevent us from seeing them? 
• Yohanan is so offended that he allows his best friend and brother-in-law to die. Can you think of a time when “winning” an argument felt more important than preserving a relationship? Was it worth it? 
• Why do you think it’s so difficult for Yohanan to forgive? Is the inability to back down or “lose” an argument a feature of the masculinity being modeled here? 

Part Four

Babylonian Talmud, Bava Metzia 84a

Rabbi Yoḥanan was sorely pained over losing Resh Lakish. The Rabbis said: Who will go to calm Rabbi Yoḥanan’s mind and comfort him over his loss?   They said: Let Rabbi Elazar ben Pedat go, as his statements are sharp, [i.e., he is clever and will be able to serve as a substitute for Reish Lakish.]  Rabbi Elazar ben Pedat went and sat before Rabbi Yoḥanan. Everything that Rabbi Yoḥanan would say, Rabbi Elazar would say to him: There is a ruling which supports your opinion.  Rabbi Yoḥanan said to him: Are you comparable to the son of Lakish? In my discussions with the son of Lakish, when I would state a matter, he would raise twenty-four difficulties against me in an attempt to disprove my claim, and I would answer him with twenty-four answers, and the halakha by itself would become broadened and clarified. And yet you say to me, “there is a ruling which supports your opinion.” Do I not know that what I say is good?! Being rebutted by Reish Lakish served a purpose; your bringing proof to my statements does not.  Then Rabbi Yoḥanan went around, rending his clothing, weeping and saying: “Where are you, son of Lakish? Where are you, son of Lakish?” Rabbi Yoḥanan screamed until his mind was taken from him. The Rabbis prayed and requested for God to have mercy on him and take his soul, and Rabbi Yoḥanan died.

• Yohanan rejects the partner who agrees with him, longing instead for the one who challenged him over and over again. Why do you think that “wrestling” (intellectually or emotionally) such a vital component of male friendship in Judaism? 
• Yohanan’s grief eventually “takes his mind.” This suggests that his identity had become dependent on his relationship with Resh Lakish. How does our masculinity rely on the presence of others to witness our lives? 
• Looking back at the whole arc, what does this story tell us about the dangers of the “Torah scholar” ideal? If the “warrior” and the “scholar” both end in tragedy, what third path for Jewish masculinity might we imagine?