We gather together in a classroom, you and I, to study the wisdom of ancient Jewish literature. Though what we will study may seem absurdly detailed, our time together will also become a journey - a journey through time and space that will teach us no less than how to fulfill the will of God in our lives.

On the shelves of our classroom are thousands of books. Among the largest and most prominently displayed is the Talmud – 20 or so volumes of wisdom from the ancient rabbinical academies in Babylonia. And it’s in one of these volumes that we find the first stop on our journey.

The page before us, like most others, tells of a debate among the rabbis – in this case on a minor matter of Jewish law. In their discussion, one rabbi, Eliezar, vociferously disagrees with the rest of his colleagues. “If I am right,” he said, “let that tree be uprooted from the ground. If I am right, let that stream reverse in its course. If I am right, let the walls of this classroom fall in upon us.” Each of those events occurred (though, the Talmud tells us, to avert disaster, the walls only fell in halfway). The rabbis, however, remain unpersuaded, insisting that Jewish law comes not from trees, brooks or walls but from the text itself, and from their understanding of its teachings.

Undeterred, Rabbi Eliezer said, “If I am right, let God’s voice say so.” Sure enough, a divine voice echoes forth just then and proclaims ’s position correct.

For most of us, that would have settled the issue quickly. But not for the rabbis. Instead, they quote God’s words right back at Him. “‘It is not in heaven,’” they said, “the Torah is ours now, and we need to interpret it as we see fit. It says to ‘incline after the majority,’ God, and that’s just what we’re doing.”

It is said that God sat back then, and laughed the frustrated but proud laugh of an outwitted parent, saying, “My children have triumphed over me!”

Yes, God Himself had weighed in on a matter of religious law and the rabbis responded by telling the Almighty to butt out. Evidently, they felt that, with the sacred texts in their hands, God had nothing left to teach about Jewish law.

Other rabbis, however, gave much more credence to God’s voice. And here we come to another Talmudic episode – the second stop on our journey. In this case, two of the most prominent Talmudic rabbis, archenemies named Hillel and Shammai, were vehemently debating another “minor” point of Jewish law.

And here, too, God spoke up.  “When Hillel and Shammai disagree, the law is according to Hillel.” Unlike before, the rabbis listened this time. And from then on, the rule was that, whenever Hillel and Shammai conflicted, Hillel’s view prevailed.

Yes, the Talmud does seem to contradict itself. In the first story, being pious means following the rules of debate and doing exactly what the text says, even if that means ignoring God Himself. In the second, however, piety means heeding God’s words and responding accordingly. In one, we tell God to stay out of it; in the other, God gets the final say.

So, what is it, you ask, that religious life demands – hearkening to the voice of God or simply studying the ancient text?

Good question. Unfortunately or not, the Talmud never tells us. Nowhere does it attempt to reconcile these two conflicting truths.

Perhaps it was silent on purpose. Perhaps the sages really wanted us to embrace both of these forms of piety in our religious lives, contradictory though they may seem – to allow our actions to be inspired directly by God and also by the teachings of the inherited text.

Indeed, a religion based only on God’s voice is doomed to disintegration for God’s voice is rarely very clear these days. A religion frozen in ancient texts, however, will also die a slow death of stagnation. Only a religion that embraces both can be truly vital – only it can convey ancient truths enriched by new understandings of God; only it can convey heartfelt piety strengthened by the wisdom of sages.

So we close the book and come to the final stop on our journey, our own lives here in the present. Having visited the world of the sages, we are blessed with two gifts: the rich text the created that still has so much to teach; and their inspiration to try to hear God’s voice speaking directly to us. If we can embrace both of these gifts, then perhaps the Talmud won’t really be closed; perhaps it will remain open, continuing to yield its truths and bringing us ever closer God’s voice beckoning us to holiness.