I ended an earlier piece on the dating of the anonymous Talmud with a line that reads like a research proposal. Ten years of Talmud job postings would show whether the field has already settled the question in practice. I have run that study on both sides of the market. The sentence was wrong, and the way it was wrong produced a better question.
For a generation the most consequential change in academic Talmud has been geographic. Yaakov Elman (1943-2018) argued that the Bavli had to be read against Middle Persian culture, Sasanian law, and the Iranian world its rabbis lived in. Shai Secunda gave the program a book. The claim went beyond the observation that the rabbis lived under Persian rule. Iranian evidence could explain what happens inside the Talmud.
The strong form of that program carries an obvious implication for training. If Iranian texts explain the Bavli, somebody has to read them. Middle Persian is not Hebrew or Aramaic. A scholar cannot pick it up incidentally on the way through a conventional Talmud curriculum. It has to be bought, in years, by a young person deciding what to become. That makes the question testable. Twenty years after the Persian turn began, what did the field buy?
A job advertisement is a purchase order. A department writes down the competence it wants this year, at the price of a tenure line, given the people already on its roster. A dissertation is a heavier commitment: six years of a person’s life, and the distribution of those choices across a decade is the field deciding what it will be able to do in 2040. The ad states an aspiration. The hire states a price paid. The dissertation states an investment made by someone who has to live inside it.
The clearest document in the decade is the University of Chicago Divinity School search in rabbinic Judaism, posted in August 2019 with review opening that September, at any rank. Applicants should possess broad knowledge of the rabbinic period and expertise in the languages essential to the field and relevant to their own research agenda. Then the sentence that carries the decade: strong applicants will demonstrate knowledge of the Roman, Sasanian, and early Islamic imperial contexts in which rabbinic literature developed.
Chicago’s own activity that autumn settles what the sentence meant. In November 2019, with the search running, the university held a conference called Rabbinic Judaism and Its Contexts, whose description opens by saying rabbinic Judaism was born twice, in the spaces and cultures of Roman Palestine and Sasanian Iran, and that rabbinic lore and argument must be understood in relation to those contexts. Sasanian Iran had stopped being a specialist’s comparative field sitting outside Talmud scholarship. Chicago called it one of the two worlds in which the thing came into being.
Chicago left the languages to the candidate.
Six years later Binghamton supplied a cleaner test. Its 2025-26 advertisement for an assistant professor of Talmud and Rabbinics, reproduced by the Society for Classical Studies, expects Hebrew and Aramaic and prefers competence in one further relevant language. Then it supplies examples: Ancient Greek, Arabic, Latin. It also prefers a research context in the Near East or the eastern Mediterranean. Middle Persian goes unnamed.
That is more revealing than a generic omission. Binghamton had reached the point of enumerating the comparative toolkit it hoped a Talmudist might carry. Greek made the list. Arabic made it. Latin made it. The department writing that sentence in 2025 had every opportunity to add a fourth item.
The same pattern runs through the rest of the recovered set. Hebrew University in 2016 wanted the classical corpora and full mastery of the original sources, with preference for Tannaitic literature. Its current search wants the literature of the Amoraim and the Yerushalmi in particular. UCLA in 2017 ran its frame from the Achaemenid through the Sasanian periods and put the emphasis on Aramaic, with graduate seminars in Hebrew, Aramaic, and Syriac. Penn in 2018 advertised in ancient rabbinics and wrote a period into the title of the field, first through seventh centuries, asking for mastery of Hebrew and conversation with contemporaneous cultures of the Mediterranean and Near Eastern world. Not one of them names Middle Persian.
I would state that result at the width the evidence supports. Among the Talmud and rabbinics advertisements recovered for 2016 through 2026, Middle Persian appears nowhere as a required or preferred language, and one advertisement that enumerates three other desirable comparative languages omits it. A search still unrecovered could change that sentence. Nothing recovered so far does.
The hires make the finding more interesting.
Cornell advertised the Herbert and Stephanie Neuman Professorship in the same season as the Chicago search, a tenured chair, wanting rabbinic literature and culture linked to related North African and Middle Eastern literatures and cultures. It hired Jason Sion Mokhtarian, who holds a UCLA master’s in ancient Iranian studies alongside his doctorate in late antique Judaism. Cornell’s Near Eastern Studies profile names Middle Persian among his research areas, and Cornell Law lists Old, Middle, and New Persian among his research languages. His earlier curriculum vitae records doctoral examinations in rabbinic literature, ancient Iranian religions, Hebrew, Babylonian Aramaic, and Middle Persian, and master’s examinations in Old Persian, Middle Persian, New Persian, and Sasanian history. His first book is Rabbis, Sorcerers, Kings, and Priests: The Culture of the Talmud in Ancient Iran.
Mokhtarian functions as a control on the method. When a scholar possesses Middle Persian, the evidence is abundant and easy to find. Degrees, examinations, listed research languages, publications, teaching interests all point the same way, with no inference from subject matter required. A standard that identifies him and leaves someone else unknown is doing what an empirical rule should do.
Simcha Gross arrives at the same destination by another road. Penn hired him off the ancient rabbinics search. His Yale dissertation, “Empire and Neighbors: Babylonian Jewish Identity in Its Local and Imperial Contexts,” sat with a committee including Christine Hayes, Steven Fraade, Seth Schwartz, and Aaron Butts. His first book, Babylonian Jews and Sasanian Imperialism in Late Antiquity, reconstructs Babylonian Jewish history through Sasanian institutions, imperial structures, and the relation between Jewish communities and Persian power. He reaches Iran as a historian of empire, through Syriac Christianity and the incantation bowls. His acknowledgments thank two Iranists for foundational training without naming the subject, so his Persian stays unknown rather than yes.
Sarah Wolf arrives by a third. JTS hired her in 2018 off her Northwestern doctorate, “The Rabbinic Legal Imagination: Narrativity and Scholasticism in the Babylonian Talmud,” advised by Mira Balberg and Barry Wimpfheimer. Her work runs through close reading, source criticism, and the history of scholasticism. Her own account of the dissertation places late rabbinic thought inside broader Sasanian scholastic trends and reads the increasing literary complexity of the Bavli’s later legal passages as evidence of a strong and late redactorial hand.
Three scholars, one neighborhood, three sets of luggage. Mokhtarian carries Iranian languages and religions. Gross carries imperial and social history. Wolf carries literary development and comparative scholasticism. That is what a successful methodological change looks like from inside. The new context stops belonging to the people who introduced it.
I expected the supply side to show the same asymmetry in a harder form, and I set out to establish that Middle Persian had gone unlearned. That claim broke under its own test. Rather than search dissertations for the language, I searched for the language and asked who had taken it, and the answer sits in a single sentence in a university newsletter. Writing in Harvard’s Center for Jewish Studies review for spring 2018, the Iranist Oktor Skjærvø describes teaching Pahlavi at Yale in 2016-17, and names two Talmudists in the room: Erez DeGolan and Miriam-Simma Walfish. DeGolan took his Columbia doctorate in 2023 on public joy in Roman Palestine. Walfish took hers at Harvard in 2022 on parents and sages in the Babylonian Talmud. Separately, Yitz Landes records coursework in Jewish Palestinian Aramaic, Jewish Babylonian Aramaic, Syriac, and Pahlavi-Middle Persian on his own curriculum vitae, and took his Princeton doctorate in 2023 on the transmission of the Mishnah.
Three scholars in one decade, two of them taught by the same man in the same year. Not one of the three dissertations announces the training. Not one of the three is a Talmudo-Iranica project. DeGolan wrote about Roman Palestine, which is the opposite end of the map from the language he had learned. The credential was invisible to every method the study had been using, and became visible only when the question was turned around and pointed at the teacher instead of the students.
The training was available the whole time. Columbia’s doctoral requirements in Judaism say that for students specializing in the Babylonian Talmud, study of Syriac and Pahlavi can be arranged. Yale lists Middle Persian as a graduate course. UCLA teaches elementary Middle Iranian and an advanced sequence above it. Yeshiva’s Bernard Revel Graduate School carried both Middle Persian Language and Literature and a course on the Middle Persian Context of the Babylonian Talmud, and still lists the second one. Against that, Hebrew Union College’s doctorate in rabbinic literature requires biblical, rabbinic, and modern Hebrew plus Aramaic, and the JTS program names Latin, Greek, or Syriac, with anything further left to specialization. Neither puts Middle Persian in the core.
Available, arrangeable, taught, and never required. That is the shape of the finding, and it is better than the absence I went looking for, because absence invites the reply that the study simply failed to look. What the record shows instead is a small channel: a visiting Iranist, a handful of students who walked into his classroom, a language acquired and then largely unused, and a labor market that never converted any of it into a named qualification. Peripheral credentials in an academic discipline survive personally rather than structurally. They live where a particular teacher happens to be standing, and they end when he stops.
The asymmetry sharpens when the question moves from context to chronology.
Distinguishing named Amoraic traditions from later anonymous discussion is one claim. Assigning that anonymous discussion to a period substantially after the Amoraim is a much stronger one. The recent dissertations make the first move often and the second rarely.
Wolf is the case to watch, because her argument depends on development over time. She writes of later legal passages, of the late Talmudic period, of material produced toward the end of the Talmud’s redaction, of a strong and late redactorial hand. Her Sasanian scholastic comparison does explanatory work in accounting for the culture that produced those developments. Yet the audit recovered no numerical date and no explicit placement of the anonymous layer after the Amoraic period from the publicly inspectable material. The full dissertation is not public, so the honest statement is that no such chronology has been recovered, not that none exists on page 173. The field’s most conspicuous case of Sasanian explanation applied to the Bavli’s late layer stops at the edge of dating it.
Elya Zissel Piazza shows what the stronger claim looks like when someone makes it. Her 2024 Berkeley dissertation, Stealth Stamma: Queer Time and Affect in the Babylonian Talmud, chaired by Daniel Boyarin (b. 1946), distinguishes an Amoraic period of roughly 220 to 550 from a stammaitic-savoraic period of 550 to 800, on page 16. That commitment can be challenged, defended, compared, and counted. In the cohort recovered so far it stands close to alone.
The gap between Wolf and Piazza tells us more than deciding which chronology is right. A scholar can accept extensive anonymous composition, literary development, late redaction, and a Sasanian intellectual setting without pinning the anonymous stratum to a century. The chronology question has not disappeared. The profession has stopped requiring every Talmudist to answer it.
Which is where the labor market changes how the scholarly debate reads. Books and articles make a field look polarized. One scholar argues for a late stam, another warns against treating anonymity as evidence of lateness, a third mines Sasanian texts, a fourth holds to Roman Palestine, and intellectual history gets written as a succession of schools. Hiring shows something else. Departments buy bundles of skills. Cornell bought an Iranologist. Penn bought a historian of Sasanian empire. JTS bought a literary and source-critical Talmudist who situates the Bavli in a Sasanian comparative world. Binghamton advertised for Hebrew and Aramaic, welcomed four methodological approaches, preferred a Near Eastern setting, and named Greek, Latin, and Arabic.
The four variables also refuse to travel together, which is the strongest evidence the audit produced. DeGolan and Walfish learned Pahlavi and wrote nothing Sasanian. Gross wrote the most Sasanian dissertation in the cohort with no documented Persian. Landes learned Pahlavi and his dissertation still sits at the border of using Iranian material as explanation. Piazza dated the stam and used no Iranian evidence to do it. Language, context, and chronology come apart in every direction, and any account that treats one as a proxy for another is wrong in four separate ways.
Two logical limits keep any of this from reaching a date, and my earlier essay supplies both. Elman read fourth-century Rava and Rav Nahman against Sasanian legal material, most systematically in “Middle Persian Culture and Babylonian Sages,” so Persian contextualization carries no chronological commitment. And the case for a late stam was built by Shamma Friedman (b. 1937) and David Weiss Halivni (1927-2022) out of internal source criticism, requiring no Pahlavi at all.
The second limit is that departments hire against their gaps. Hebrew University runs a large Talmud department and advertised for a Tannaitic specialist in 2016 and a Yerushalmi specialist for 2025, which describes two holes in a roster. Cornell had no Iranist and bought one. Each advertisement is a difference taken against an existing faculty, and aggregating differences does not give you the level.
I meant to put a number on the supply side. The census has not earned one. Successive passes kept finding candidates and reopening cases whose degree years or corpus status had been assumed rather than demonstrated, and a denominator that moved from 29 to 32 to 35 and then higher should not be frozen because a percentage would make the argument look more rigorous. Dropping the percentage costs nothing the argument needed. Every finding that survived the audits either carries its own denominator or needs none.
Those findings: major departments have written Sasanian context into their conception of what a rabbinics candidate should know. Middle Persian has not appeared by name in any recovered Talmud advertisement, including the one that enumerates three other comparative languages. The language was taught inside American Jewish studies throughout the period, arranged on request rather than required, and at least three members of the dissertation cohort took it without any of them building a career on it. Recent dissertations use a late anonymous layer without specifying a post-Amoraic chronology. And one recent dissertation states the chronology outright.
One life carries all of it. Revel is where Talmudo-Iranica was founded, and Elman taught Middle Persian language and literature there alongside the course on its Talmudic context, in a Talmud curriculum, which no other American program offered. He died in July 2018. His student Shana Strauch Schick, who studied Pahlavi with the same Skjærvø who would later teach DeGolan and Walfish, took her Revel doctorate in 2011. She now teaches Talmud at Revel, and the roster carries her under senior adjunct faculty, because Revel lists no full-time professor of Talmud at all. Meanwhile UCLA, where Mokhtarian took his master’s, advertised a tenure-track line in ancient Iranian studies for 2025, on the Near Eastern side of the building. The money for Middle Persian exists. A Talmudist who wants the language walks down the hall.
Languages decide which comparisons a scholar can make alone, which evidence he meets during training, and which claims he can test without a translation or a collaborator. A field can accept that Sasanian Iran belongs in the picture while arranging Iranian philology as an elective for whoever asks. Call it the domestication of the Persian turn. Sasanian Iran crossed from revisionist claim into ordinary Talmud scholarship, and Middle Persian crossed as a specialty rather than as equipment. Departments continue to hire textual critics, literary scholars, historians of empire, and Iranologists rather than requiring that any candidate be all four, which is what a discipline does when its members hold a shared method and no shared chronology, forty years after Richard Kalmin put the question in the title of The Redaction of the Babylonian Talmud: Amoraic or Saboraic? and left it there.
