Loving and Living on Edge of a Sword Sanhedrin 7-9

7

Loving and Living on Edge of a Sword

Our Gemara on Amud Aleph relates one of my all-time favorite Talmudic aphorisms:

When our love was strong, we could have slept on a bed that was the width of a sword. Now that our love is not strong, a bed of sixty cubits is not big enough for us.

The tone of this aphorism is defeated and pessimistic. It seems to reflect the perspective of an older married person who no longer feels the passion that once animated his relationship. However, the Gemara is not in the habit of lamenting life without offering a moral lesson. The most obvious lesson here is that indignities and frustrations are not necessarily evaluated by how severe they are or by determining who was truly at fault. Rather, our affection or intolerance toward the offender plays the most decisive role.

Humans give all kinds of rationalizations for their so-called intellectual judgments, but research by Nobel prize-winning economist Daniel Kahneman has demonstrated that most decisions are driven by emotion. We like to believe that we are keen judges of human behavior, weighing right and wrong with precision. However, in reality, our assessments of others are heavily influenced by our underlying emotional state.

This idea is echoed in the research of Dr. John Gottman, who coined the terms “negative sentiment override” and “positive sentiment override.” Gottman found that if a couple is in a generally positive mood toward each other, experiences that might otherwise be interpreted negatively are viewed in a positive light — and vice versa. For example, if a spouse arrives a few minutes later than agreed upon, negative sentiment override might lead the other spouse to assume it reflects the spouse’s “typical irresponsibility.” On the other hand, under positive sentiment override, even if the spouse is 30 minutes late or more, the partner is likely to think, “Things must have been hectic at work,” or, “She probably had a packed schedule today.”

How is a positive disposition in the relationship created and maintained according to Gottman’s research? After reviewing thousands of hours of recorded interactions between couples over a 20-year period, Gottman concluded that as long as the couple maintains a five-to-one ratio of positive to negative interactions, positive sentiment override will prevail. If the ratio falls below 5:1, negative sentiment override takes over. Notably, a “positive interaction” does not need to be grand or elaborate. It could be as simple as a smile, a hug, a compliment, or assistance with a small task.

This research also highlights the role of momentum in relationships. Positive experiences generate positive thoughts, which in turn foster more positive experiences. Unfortunately, the reverse is also true: negative experiences breed negative thoughts, which inspire more negative behavior. The Talmud’s imagery of a couple once able to sleep comfortably on the width of a sword reminds us that when love is strong, even what seems impossible becomes manageable.

If we actively work to cultivate love, small grievances will not feel insurmountable. But if we allow love to wither, even the vast space of a sixty-cubit bed will feel constricting.

8

Glad We Thought of It

Our Gemara on Amud Aleph debates whether Moshe’s statement in Devarim (1:17) reflects a hint of arrogance on his part:

“And the cause that is too hard for you, you shall bring to me, and I will hear it.”

Rabbi Ḥanina, and some say Rabbi Yoshiya, argues that this statement displayed a degree of presumptuousness. As a result, Moshe was later punished…

Rav Naḥman bar Yitzḥak objects to this critique of Moshe. He points out that the verse does not say, “And I will tell you,” which would have implied that Moshe was claiming full authority for himself. Instead, it says, “And I will hear it,” which can be understood to mean that Moshe would listen and seek guidance if he did not know the answer. According to this view, Moshe did not display arrogance, as he acknowledged that he might have to seek further knowledge and consult Hashem.

Rav Naḥman bar Yitzḥak’s argument seems compelling. The phrase “I will hear it” could indeed mean “I will hear guidance” rather than “I will hear the case.” If so, why does Rabbi Ḥanina see a hint of conceit in Moshe’s words?

The simplest answer is that the plain reading of the verse supports Rabbi Ḥanina’s position:

“And any matter that is too difficult for you, you shall bring to me and I will hear it.”

Although the phrase “I will hear it” is somewhat ambiguous, its most straightforward reading implies that Moshe is saying, “I will hear the case and render a ruling.” There is no explicit indication in the pasuk that Moshe intends to seek further guidance or consult Hashem. This perspective allows Rabbi Ḥanina to see Moshe’s statement as self-assured, possibly to a fault.

Yet, it is the general approach of Chazal to read biblical characters — especially tzaddikim — in a favorable light when possible. The Maharitz Chayes, in his Ma’amar on Aggadah (printed at the beginning of the Ein Yaakov), notes that Chazal often employ derash to derive something positive about a biblical figure rather than the opposite, and they look to find negative interpretations regarding evil characters. Why, then, does Rabbi Ḥanina deviate from this approach, casting Moshe’s words in a critical light?

I believe the issue lies not in the phrase “I will hear it” itself but in Moshe’s decision to exclude the sages from the process of discovery. Even if we read the verse like Rav Naḥman bar Yitzḥak, understanding “I will hear it” as “I will seek guidance,” Moshe still positions himself as the sole seeker of truth. He could have framed it in a more inclusive and humble manner, saying, “If it is something that I do not know, we will go and study it together.” And if he was referring to receiving Divine wisdom, he could have said, “We will hear it.”

This subtle shift from “I” to “we” is not trivial. When facing a challenge, even if one holds a leadership position, it is often beneficial — practically and emotionally — to allow others to participate in the process of problem-solving. People are more willing to contribute meaningfully when they feel included. Of course, this has to be sincere. Using the royal “we” as a superficial gesture of collaboration can backfire. For example, when a boss says, “We need to work on this,” it may be clear from tone and context that what he really means is, “YOU need to work on this.”

The difference between feeling like a partner or a subordinate is not just semantic. People can sense authenticity in these interactions. If you genuinely believe that you alone are the problem-solver, the one who “gets things done,” you are missing an essential truth. A truly humble person sees the process as we, not I. Often, the belief that it’s all on you and that you alone accomplish everything is an illusion — and an overrated one at that.

9

Echo Chamber

Our Gemara on Amud Aleph discusses the status of a person’s ability to testify about himself. We have a general rule that close relatives are disqualified from serving as witnesses for each other. Extending this logic, a person is considered his own close relative and, therefore, cannot give testimony about himself.

The Maharal (Gur Aryeh, Bereishis 46:15) expands on this idea, offering a profound insight into the role of the opposite gender in human character development.

The verse states:

“These were the sons whom Leah bore to Yaakov in Paddan-aram, in addition to his daughter Dinah.”

Chazal and various commentaries have noted a shift in how lineage is attributed in this verse. The sons are described as Leah’s children, while the daughter, Dinah, is described as Yaakov’s child.

Psychologically speaking, it is common across many cultures to see this cross-identification, where fathers often have a special bond with their daughters, and mothers have a similar bond with their sons. This is reflected in familiar expressions like “Daddy’s little girl” and “Mama’s little man.” The Maharal (ibid) suggests that this pattern reflects a deeper, axiomatic truth: the encounter with the opposite gender rounds out and completes a person. The identification with the opposite gender evokes a particular kind of connection, rooted in an intuitive recognition of one’s own incompleteness.

This concept connects back to the principle that a person cannot testify about himself. Certain truths can never be fully grasped without exposure to a perspective beyond oneself. Metaphorically and metaphysically, a person cannot develop beyond their own incompleteness without encountering something other. This encounter is necessary for growth, self-understanding, and wholeness.

I believe this idea also explains the Torah’s prohibitions against masturbation and homosexuality. Each of these, in its own way, represents a “closed loop” or an “echo chamber” of self-reflection and self-gratification. These acts bypass the essential challenge and complexity that come from encountering an opposite. True completion requires stepping outside oneself and engaging with difference. For example, two men living together may require far less imagination, creativity, and empathy to understand each other than a man and woman living together. The differences in perspective, experience, and emotional responses between a man and woman present a challenge — but it is this very challenge that drives growth and completion.

On a deeper level, this idea extends to the nature of creation itself. All creativity ultimately arises from the encounter of opposites. The very existence of the universe reflects this principle. Despite Hashem’s infinite presence, He “made space” for existence to emerge. This act of tzimtzum — divine self-contraction — is a pattern that repeats throughout creation. It reflects a fundamental truth: just as God “made room” for the world, so too must creativity, life, and growth stem from the encounter with something other. Without this dynamic, there is no new creation, no development, and no true completion.