Rectifying the Zaken Mamre

The Authority of the Sanhedrin

Parshat Shoftim introduces us to many laws, and among them the Torah outlines the case of the zaken mamre—the rebellious elder. This is the term used by Chazal in the Gemara for a sage who defies the ruling of the Sanhedrin, the High Court of seventy-one sages in Jerusalem.

The Torah describes situations where halachic disputes arise: pure or impure blood, life-and-death rulings, or questions of tzara’at. When a local court cannot reach clarity, the Torah commands: “Vekamta ve’alita el hamakom”—you must ascend to the place Hashem has chosen, the Beit HaMikdash, where the Sanhedrin sits.

There, the Kohanim and judges, chosen for their depth of Torah knowledge and capacity to rule, hear the case and issue the final decision. Once that ruling is given, the Torah insists it must be obeyed fully: “Lo tasur… yamin usmol”—you may not deviate to the right or to the left. Even if the ruling seems counterintuitive—if they tell you right is left and left is right—you must accept it with emunah.

The Consequence of Rebellion

The Torah then presents a sobering warning: if a sage refuses to heed the Sanhedrin’s ruling, insisting on his own opinion, he is liable to death. This judgment, severe as it seems, is meant to “ubi’arta hara mikirbecha”—burn away evil from within Israel. When the nation witnesses the protocol of the zaken mamre, they internalize the lesson: the unity of Torah cannot survive if each individual sage insists on his own authority against the central court.

The purpose of such a punishment is not cruelty but prevention. As the Torah states, “Vechol ha’am yishme’u veyira’u”— the people will hear and fear, and this situation will not repeat. The integrity of Torah depends on the willingness to submit even brilliant individual understanding to the collective ruling of the Sanhedrin in Jerusalem.

The Execution on the Festivals

Rashi raises a striking question: the Torah says “the whole nation shall hear and fear”. How can the entire nation be present? Only during the three festivals—Pesach, Shavuot, and Sukkot—when all Israel would gather in Jerusalem. From here Chazal derive that the execution of the zaken mamre was delayed until the festival, so that all the people could witness it.

But this raises an obvious difficulty. The Torah also commands *“vesamachta bechagecha”—*to rejoice on the festivals. How can the execution of a Torah sage, an elder dressed as a rabbi and appearing pious, possibly fit into the atmosphere of joy? Such a sight seems traumatic, the opposite of simcha.

The Center of the Universe

To answer this, we must draw on Rebbe Nachman’s profound exposition of the teaching from the Gemara (Bechorot 8b), where Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananiah debated the wise men of Athens. They asked him: “Emtza’uta de’alma heicha? Where is the center of the universe?”

When Hashem created the world, He formed a vacated space in the Infinite Light. Into this hollow He directed a single ray of light, which struck the Even Shetiyah, the Foundation Stone in the Holy of Holies. From that point, the entire creation spread outward. To this day, Hashem’s Infinite Light shines through that spot into the world.

Thus, the wise men of Athens were asking Rabbi Yehoshua, how does a person access the Infinite Light?

Rabbi Yehoshua responded to their question by lifting his finger and saying, “Here.” The finger symbolizes blessing, as in the hands of the Kohanim who channel blessing through their ten fingers. His message was that the Infinite Light is accessed through the channels of blessing represented by the hands.

The philosophers pressed him further: “Mi yaimar? Who says?” On a deeper level, Rebbe Nachman explains, mi yaimar alludes to the Heichal HaTemurot, the “Chamber of Exchanges,” where truth is swapped for falsehood, light for darkness, sweet for bitter. This is the domain of confusion that defines our world. To draw blessing, one must enter that chamber, rescue the sparks of holiness trapped within, and elevate them.

Simcha is not a secondary quality but an essential foundation of Torah

The Paradox of Simcha

Rabbi Yehoshua’s answer was paradoxical: it is specifically the forces of evil—represented by the philosophers of Athens—that will ultimately bring about the return of holiness and redemption. This joy knowing that ultimately the evil itself will turn back to return the sparks of holiness trapped therein is the key to bringing joy into the present challenge, successfully entering and exiting the Chamber of Exchanges. In other words, the successful and joyous confrontation with the “chamber of exchanges” itself becomes the channel for accessing the Infinite Light.

And this is why the zaken mamre is executed on the festivals. The disturbing sight of a sage being punished serves as a stark confrontation with the chamber of exchanges, where appearances deceive and truth is disguised. Yet precisely through facing this, the people access a deeper joy. The simcha of the festivals is not superficial cheer, but the joy that comes from knowing that even the darkest exchanges will ultimately be overturned for holiness.

The Danger of the Chamber of Exchanges

Rebbe Nachman addresses the struggle: how can a person maintain simcha when confronted with the Heichal HaTemurot, the “chamber of exchanges”? This world is filled with distortions where truth is swapped for falsehood, light for darkness, and good for evil. Entering that arena is dangerous—who says one will succeed in rescuing holiness from there without being swallowed by the confusion?

The answer lies in joy. Even when trapped in the chamber of exchanges, the ability to connect to the future joy—the certainty that in the end Hashem will bring redemption—gives strength to endure and to extract the holiness hidden in the exchanges. This joy allows the Jew to hold on until he can reconnect with the Infinite Light flowing from the center of creation.

The Zaken Mamre as Symbol of Confusion

The term mamre comes from hamarah, exchange. The Zaken Mamre is not only the rebellious elder who defies the ruling of the Sanhedrin, but also the sage who has become entangled in the chamber of exchanges. When the Torah warns that even if the Sanhedrin tells you right is left or left is right you must obey, it acknowledges that confusion exists—that a person can see things reversed. If a sage rejects the higher authority and insists on his own distorted view, he reveals that he is stuck in the realm of exchanges.

But how could a Torah sage, immersed in learning, fall so low? The Torah is called Torat Emet, the Torah of truth—shouldn’t it protect from falsehood? The answer lies in the word zaken, elder. On one hand, zaken is positive, an acronym for zeh kanah chochmah—“this one has acquired wisdom.” Yet Rebbe Nachman also taught: zaken lo tov—it is not good to be old, even in wisdom. Spiritual stagnation, becoming set and rigid, leads to downfall.

The Secret of Renewal

The safeguard is constant renewal. Even at 60, 70, or 80, a person must reconnect to his first beginnings, to the pure desire he had when he started serving Hashem. Life inevitably brings turbulence, setbacks, and disappointments, but the way out is to return to the initial spark: “Hashem, all I wanted was to be a good Jew.”

Rebbe Nachman praised Reb Zusha of Anipoli for serving Hashem for 22 years straight with the same fresh enthusiasm he had at the very beginning. This is the secret of true renewal. By continually returning to the starting point, a person ensures he will not become a Zaken Mamre. Instead of being trapped in the exchanges, he refreshes his service of Hashem and begins anew each day.

The Role of Joy in Rectification

Why does a Torah sage fall so far as to become a Zaken Mamre? The root problem is a lack of joy. When Torah is studied only with severity, intellect, and rigidity—without warmth, smiles, and simcha—the learning becomes dry and lifeless. And when such a sage encounters the greater challenges that come with spiritual stature, he has no inner strength to reconnect to his original desire to serve Hashem. As Chazal say, “Kol hagadol mechavero, yetzro gadol mimenu”—the greater a person, the stronger his yetzer hara. Without simcha as an anchor, the scholar risks falling into confusion, denying the higher court, and becoming a Zaken Mamre.

His punishment is uniquely tied to the festivals. The Torah commands that he be executed only when all Israel is gathered in Yerushalayim for the regalim. This seems paradoxical—how can such a severe judgment take place on days of joy? But the answer is that the collective simcha of the Jewish people during the Chag is his very rectification. Even in his downfall, the Torah within him is uplifted and sweetened by the nation’s joy in Hashem.

Halachically, his death is delayed until Chol HaMoed (or Isru Chag after Shavuot), ensuring it does not desecrate the sanctity of Yom Tov. Yet the timing itself is deliberate: only within the atmosphere of simcha, in Yerushalayim—the happiest place on earth during the festivals—can the blemish of a false sage be repaired. The people do not leave saddened, but rather elevated, knowing that even his Torah finds tikkun through their joy.

Simcha as the Goal of Torah

The lesson is clear. Simcha is not a secondary quality but an essential foundation of Torah. Elsewhere, Rashi, quoting the Gemara, says: “Tachlit Torah, teshuva u’ma’asim tovim”—the goal of Torah is repentance and good deeds. And the highest teshuva is not motivated by fear but by love, which is inseparable from joy. Only a person who is b’simcha can believe that every small good deed counts before Hashem, and can live with the confidence that his service is precious.

As Elul begins, the message of the Zaken Mamre resounds: Torah must lead to simcha. Without it, even wisdom can turn bitter. But with it, every Jew, no matter his level, can continually renew himself, reconnect to his beginnings, and approach Rosh Hashanah with trembling joy—“vegilu bir’ada”—a rejoicing bound with awe, confident that Hashem will grant us a good and blessed year.

Shabbat Shalom and Shana Tova u’Metuka.

Meir Elkabas