The 21st chapter of 2 Kings recounts the reign of King Manasseh in ancient Judea. It does not have anything good to say. The biblical historian blasts Manasseh for a long list of idolatrous activities: adopting the abhorrent practices of foreign nations, practicing soothsaying and divination, and leading the people to worship foreign gods. It is not surprising that he is included in the Mishnah’s list (Sanhedrin 90a) of Israelite kings who have no share in the World to Come. 

While 2 Kings offers a gritty and sometimes downright villainous portrait of Manasseh and other Israelite kings, 2 Chronicles sanitizes the same history significantly. Thus, 2 Chronicles 33:13 records: “And he (Manasseh) prayed to God, and God received his entreaty, and heard his supplication and brought him back to Jerusalem to his kingdom.” This suggests that, in the end, Manasseh repented and, to the thinking of Rabbi Yehuda in the Mishnah at least, earned back his place in the World to Come. 

But once Rabbi Yehuda’s opinion is stated, the Mishnah records that his colleagues disagree, interpreting the verse more literally: By repenting Manasseh may have earned back his kingdom in this world, but he did not gain the reward of the next one.

The notion that Manasseh is deserving of some redemption is suggested by a narrative on today’s daf as well:

One day Rav Ashi ended his lecture just before reaching the matter of the three kings (who do not have a place in the World to Come). He said to his students: Tomorrow we will begin the lecture with our colleagues, the three kings. 
Manasseh came and appeared to him in a dream and said to him: You called us your colleague?

In the classroom, Rav Ashi refers to Manasseh and his counterparts as colleagues, chaverin, a term used to refer to rabbinic peers. This is a compliment to the questionable king, but it is also a compliment to the rabbis who, apparently, think of themselves as peers to royalty. Perhaps the notion felt like an overreach because, in a dream that night, Rav Ashi is rebuked by none other than Manasseh himself for claiming colleague status.

But it turns out that Manasseh is not claiming to be more royal than Rav Ashi (which he obviously is), but more rabbinically learned! To prove this, Manasseh puts Rav Ashi to a test by asking him a challenging halakhic question: Which part of a loaf of bread should one begin cutting after one completes the requisite blessing? A properly humbled Rav Ashi does not know the answer and Manasseh wastes no time in taunting him:

Even this … you did not learn, and yet you call us your colleague? 

The answer, Manasseh soon reveals, is that you cut the loaf from “where it crusts as a result of baking,” that is, from a well done section of the loaf. This proves the wicked king a truly learned sage, on par with the greatest of the rabbis. But momentarily the tables are turned and now it’s Rav Ashi’s turn to ask a question:

Since you were so wise, what is the reason you engaged in idol worship?

Manasseh responded: Had you been there at that time, you would have taken and lifted the hem of your cloak and run after me. 

The next day Rav Ashi said to the sages as a prelude to his lecture: We will begin with the treatment of our teachers.

Idol worship is one of Judaism’s cardinal sins. If forced to choose between an act of idol worship and death, the rabbis demand that we choose death. Manasseh, who not only practiced idol worship himself, but led others to do so as well, is an obvious candidate for losing his life in the World to Come. Poignantly, he does not defend his behavior, but simply states that the culture of idolatry that was present in his day was irresistible. Rav Ashi seems to accept this explanation, and no longer refers to Manasseh — the wicked king — as a colleague but, better, as a teacher.

Does this suggest that Rav Ashi, and perhaps the Talmud itself, is in agreement with Rabbi Yehuda’s assessment that Manasseh repented and earned back his place in the World to Come? Perhaps. Or perhaps not. But it certainly asks us to pause and consider the notion that idol worship, while never excusable, may appear in guises far more alluring than we might have expected.

Read all of Sanhedrin 102 on Sefaria.

This piece originally appeared in a My Jewish Learning Daf Yomi email newsletter sent on March 29, 2025. If you are interested in receiving the newsletter, sign up here.