Our Gemara on Amud Aleph tells us the story of Choni Hameagel, who fell asleep for seventy years. We find this story with small differences in the Yerushalmi and Midrash Tehilim on Psalm 126. In those versions, it is actually the grandson of Choni. Another distinction in these other versions is that Choni (or his grandson) went into a cave, and we will note more about this later on. 

The motif of a person falling asleep for numerous years is found in a number of cultures and mythologies. Let us look into its history and apparent universal meanings.

The famous American story of Rip Van Winkle, authored by Washington Irving in 1819, tells of a man who fell asleep and missed the American Revolution. In some way, the falling asleep and waking up motif is an important literary device to help the reader experience and process a sudden change in historical perspective. Actually in the Yerushalmi version of the story, a similar process happens, as the protagonist sleeps through the Churban destruction of the Temple, which is only alluded to in the Bavli׳s quotation of psalm 126. 

While there are Christian and Islamic versions of this story, that is not particularly interesting because they obviously are knock-offs of the Jewish tradition that preceded it. (There is a Hindu story from their literature but it is not earlier than the Mishna, and the story doesn’t have many similar elements other than a long sleep, and so can be a completely coincidental and parallel development.) What is more fascinating is when there are records of stories of sleepers that predate Choni’s time, which was in the first Century BCE.

The third-century CE Greek historian, Diogenes Laërtius, recorded in his book, “Lives and Opinions of Eminent Philosophers” a story of Epimenides of Knossos, who entered into a cave and fell into a deep sleep for 57 years. Though Diogenes wrote his history in the times of the Gemara, the stories and traditions he reported were about sages of earlier times, and presumably has some validity. In this case, the man being described, Epimenides, reportedly lived several hundred years earlier.

By the way, this is not the only Talmudic story that has parallels in Greek legend. For example, in Nedarim (9b) and Nazir (4b) we hear of a pious lad, who upon seeing himself for the first time in a reflection in the water, vows to become a Nazir. He was so horrified by the overwhelming feelings of pride in his own handsome looks, that he takes immediate action to abstain from hedonistic pleasures, and becomes a nazir in order to tame his lust and arrogance. Compare this to the story of Narcissus:

Once, during the summer, Narcissus was getting thirsty after hunting, and the goddess lured him to a pool where he leaned upon the water and saw himself in the bloom of youth. Narcissus did not realize it was merely his own reflection and fell deeply in love with it, as if it were somebody else. Unable to leave the allure of his image, he eventually realized that his love could not be reciprocated and he melted away from the fire of passion burning inside him, eventually turning into a gold and white flower.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Narcissus_(mythology)

Another example of parallel Greek and Jewish stories, is the origin myth of the Roman Empire, whose founders were two brothers, Romulus and Remus. They were abandoned as infants and suckled by a she-wolf. (Dionysius, vol. 1 p. 72.) This myth is also mentioned in Esther Rabbah 3 and Midrash Tehilim 17. Dionysus is from the 3rd Century BCE, which predates the Midrash.

And finally, my good friend Yaakov Shapiro showed me the Greek myth of Procrustes, who had a bed, in which he invited every passer-by to spend the night, and where he set to work on them with his smith's hammer, to stretch them to fit. If the guest proved too tall, Procrustes would amputate the excess length; nobody ever fitted the bed exactly. ( https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Procrustes ). Compare this to the Midrash about the famous “hospitality” of the people of Sodom described in Sanhedrin (109b), “They had beds on which they would lay their guests; when a guest was longer than the bed they would cut him, and when a guest was shorter than the bed they would stretch him.”.

There are various approaches to Midrashic stories, with some rishonim taking a position that the stories all must be taken as literal, historical fact, while others see them as parables. There are variations on these points of view such as those who believe the stories are true literally AND also have deeper meanings, as well as those who take the stories to be true, but experienced in a dream or trance like state. Finally, there are those who combine approaches and advocate using common sense to understand if it is a metaphor or literal. For a good discussion of the viewpoints on this, see the various introductions to aggadah found in the printed Vilna edition of Ein Yaakov. Let us look at these stories from these different perspectives, taking into account the fact that they do exist in other cultures as well.

If we consider the Choni story and the story about the Nazir as historical fact, the fact that they are repeated in other cultures, mythologies and traditions do not detract from their validity.  One can borrow the Maimonidean approach to philosophical and mathematical sciences, which is that they once belonged to the Jews, and were then appropriated by other cultures (see Hilchos Kiddush HaChodesh 17:24). One could simply say the stories were copied. Or, one could say that these patterns of human nature and psychology repeat themselves. If God can see fit to cause the sage Choni to fall asleep for decades, so too might He cause Epimenides to sleep for decades. 

If these stories are parables, then each culture might independently tap into unconscious psychological motifs. It is notable that in both the Greek version of Epimenides and the Choni story each person entered into a cave, which is obviously symbolic of entering in a state of spiritual seclusion and depth. 

And finally, the sages may have been aware of prior Greek versions of legends, such as Narcissus or Romulus and Remus, and without being concerned of their actual veracity, use the ideas and popularity of the basic themes for their own parables and lessons. The idea of plagiarism or historical accuracy did not exist in the way it does today. Stories were repeated as folklore, and each person who told the story understood it was borrowed. The rabbis may have told these stories with their own Jewish twist much as we see in modern Jewish culture secular pop songs converted to Jewish verses, or even Savta Simcha’s obvious hebraization of Mary Poppins. 

Translations Courtesy of Sefaria, except when, sometimes, I disagree with the translation

Do you like what you see? Please subscribe and also forward any articles you enjoy to your friends, (enemies too, why not?)