Gender and Dialogue in the Rabbinic Prism 3110207052, 9783110207057

Table of contents :
In Place of an Introduction: On Gender Issues and Their Possible Significance for Understanding the Spiritual World of the Rabbis
“Masculinity” and “Femininity” in the Psychosexual Theory of Freud and Nancy Chodorow
Lacan’s Interpretation of the Freudian Theory
The Drawbacks of the Freudian Approach
Sara Ruddick and the Care Experience
Between Freud and Buber: Between Psychoanalysis and Dialogue
A Note on the Relationship between “I-Thou” and Halakhah and “Law”
Phallicism, Humility, and the Tension between “Masculinity” and “Femininity” in the Aggadic Narratives
The Chapters of the Book
Chapter One. The Woman’s Spiritual Place in the Talmudic Story: A Reading of the Narrative of Mar Ukba and His Wife
An Introduction to the Discussion of the Narrative
The Text of the Narrative
The Reading of the Narrative
Why Was Mar Ukba Insulted?
The Leitmotiv of the Heel
On the Feminine and Masculine Associations in the Narrative
Chapter Two. Rabbi Akiva and the Daughter of Ben Kalba Savua: On the Conception of Love in the Spiritual World of the Talmudic Story
The Narrative of Akiva and His Mate, according to the Version of Ketubot 62b-63a
The Versions of the Narrative
The Love of Akiva and His Mate
Structure of the Narrative
The Waves of Opposition and Their Significance
Inner and Outer
Stability and Mobility
Is This a Romantic Love Story?
Against Boyarin’s Political Reading
Appendix A: On the Nature of Relationship between Akiva and His Mate in the Later Versions
Appendix B: On the Character of Ben Kalba Savua in the Later Versions
Appendix C: On the Character of “That Old Man” in the Later Versions
Appendix D: On the Conversation with the Women Neighbors in the Later Versions
Chapter 3. “Internal Homeland” and “External Homeland”: A Literary and Psychoanalytical Study of the Narrative of R. Assi and His Aged Mother
The Complex Relationship between Halakhah and Aggadah, as Background to a Reading of the Narrative
The Text of the Narrative
A Proposed Psychoanalytical Reading
On the Transformation of the Text from the Land of Israel to Babylonia
Chapter 4. The Female Breast and the Mouth Opened in Prayer
The Narrative of the Intervention by the Mother of R. Ahadboi in the Study Hall Quarrel
A Discussion of the Elements of the Narrative
Baring One’s Breasts as an Act of Protest
Baring One’s Breast as a Spiritual Expression
Baring One’s Breasts as an Act of Entreaty
Exposing One’s Breasts in the Midrashic Picture: A Gesture of Love and Giving
Chapter Five. A Reading of the Creation Narrative: Femininity and Masculinity in the Prism of the Bible and the Midrash
The Mythological Background and Gender Aspects
In the Beginning God Created
Creation Ex Nihilo or Ex Materia?
The Midrashic Sources, and Their Relation to the Proposed Dialogic Reading
On Building God’s Palace in the Garbage in Gen. Rabbah
On the End of the Creation Passage: The Elements of the Sabbath and Sanctity
Buber’s Comments on the Creation Passage
The Gender Significance of the Moderation in the Biblical Portrayal
The Dialogic Significance of the Creation Episode: Love as a Procreative and Creative Force
Afterword
Bibliography

Citation preview

Admiel Kosman Gender and Dialogue in the Rabbinic Prism

Studia Judaica Forschungen zur Wissenschaft des Judentums Begründet von Ernst Ludwig Ehrlich Herausgegeben von Günter Stemberger Band 50

De Gruyter

Admiel Kosman

Gender and Dialogue in the Rabbinic Prism Translated from Hebrew by Edward Levin

De Gruyter

ISBN 978-3-11-020705-7 e-ISBN 978-3-11-021864-0 ISSN 0585-5306 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A CIP catalog record for this book has been applied for at the Library of Congress. Bibliografische Information der Deutschen Nationalbibliothek Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet über http://dnb.dnb.de abrufbar. ” 2012 Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston Satz: Dörlemann-Satz GmbH & Co. KG, Lemförde Druck und Bindung: Hubert & Co. GmbH & Co. KG, Göttingen ⬁ Gedruckt auf säurefreiem Papier Printed in Germany www.degruyter.com

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Contents

Contents In Place of an Introduction: On Gender Issues and Their Possible Significance for Understanding the Spiritual World of the Rabbis “Masculinity” and “Femininity” in the Psychosexual Theory of Freud and Nancy Chodorow . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Lacan’s Interpretation of the Freudian Theory . . . . . . . . The Drawbacks of the Freudian Approach . . . . . . . . . . Sara Ruddick and the Care Experience . . . . . . . . . . . . Between Freud and Buber: Between Psychoanalysis and Dialogue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A Note on the Relationship between “I-Thou” and Halakhah and “Law” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Phallicism, Humility, and the Tension between “Masculinity” and “Femininity” in the Aggadic Narratives . The Chapters of the Book . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Chapter One The Woman’s Spiritual Place in the Talmudic Story: A Reading of the Narrative of Mar Ukba and His Wife An Introduction to the Discussion of the Narrative The Text of the Narrative . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Reading of the Narrative . . . . . . . . . . . . Why Was Mar Ukba Insulted? . . . . . . . . . . . . The Leitmotiv of the Heel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . On the Feminine and Masculine Associations in the Narrative . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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1 1 5 7 10 11 18 20 25

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Chapter Two Rabbi Akiva and the Daughter of Ben Kalba Savua: On the Conception of Love in the Spiritual World of the Talmudic Story . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Narrative of Akiva and His Mate, according to the Version of Ketubot 62b–63a . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Versions of the Narrative . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

56 56 58

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The Love of Akiva and His Mate . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63 Structure of the Narrative . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68 The Waves of Opposition and Their Significance . . . . . . . 69 Inner and Outer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77 Stability and Mobility . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81 Is This a Romantic Love Story? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83 Against Boyarin’s Political Reading . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89 Appendix A: On the Nature of Relationship between Akiva and His Mate in the Later Versions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94 Appendix B: On the Character of Ben Kalba Savua in the Later Versions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102 Appendix C: On the Character of “That Old Man” in the Later Versions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106 Appendix D: On the Conversation with the Women Neighbors in the Later Versions . . . . . . 107 Chapter 3 “Internal Homeland” and “External Homeland”: A Literary and Psychoanalytical Study of the Narrative of R. Assi and His Aged Mother . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Complex Relationship between Halakhah and Aggadah, as Background to a Reading of the Narrative . . . . . . . . . The Text of the Narrative . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A Proposed Psychoanalytical Reading . . . . . . . . . . . . . On the Transformation of the Text from the Land of Israel to Babylonia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Chapter 4 The Female Breast and the Mouth Opened in Prayer The Narrative of the Intervention by the Mother of R. Ahadboi in the Study Hall Quarrel . . . . A Discussion of the Elements of the Narrative . Baring One’s Breasts as an Act of Protest . . . . Baring One’s Breast as a Spiritual Expression . . Baring One’s Breasts as an Act of Entreaty . . . Exposing One’s Breasts in the Midrashic Picture: A Gesture of Love and Giving . . . . . . . . . .

109 109 111 122 126

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Contents

Chapter Five A Reading of the Creation Narrative: Femininity and Masculinity in the Prism of the Bible and the Midrash . . . The Mythological Background and Gender Aspects . . . . . In the Beginning God Created . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Creation Ex Nihilo or Ex Materia? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Midrashic Sources, and Their Relation to the Proposed Dialogic Reading . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . On Building God’s Palace in the Garbage in Gen. Rabbah . On the End of the Creation Passage: The Elements of the Sabbath and Sanctity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Buber’s Comments on the Creation Passage . . . . . . . . . The Gender Significance of the Moderation in the Biblical Portrayal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Dialogic Significance of the Creation Episode: Love as a Procreative and Creative Force . . . . . . . . . . .

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154 155 165 171 177 179 185 192 194 205

Afterword . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 214 Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215

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“Masculinity” and “Femininity” in the Psychosexual Theory

1

In Place of an Introduction: On Gender Issues and Their Possible Significance for Understanding the Spiritual World of the Rabbis “Masculinity” and “Femininity” in the Psychosexual Theory of Freud and Nancy Chodorow One of the central perspectives that influenced the writing of this book is connected to the distinction between “masculinity” and “femininity” drawn so sharply in post-Freudian feminist discussions.1 Freud famously assumed that the traditional family structure is responsible for various psychosexual developmental processes among both sexes. Although Freud found no gender differences in the effect created by the early periods of the psyche, the oral and the anal, boys and girls develop in different ways beginning with the phallic stage, after they discover the anatomic differences between them: the fact that the boy has a penis, while the girl does not. In this stage (from the age of three to about five or six), when the focus of the child’s psychosexual world moves to the pleasure derived from the stimulation of the sexual organs, the child gains an awareness of the importance of the mother as the fulfiller of his needs, and the curtain raises in his psyche on the greatest drama of his life, what Freud called the “Oedipus complex”: the child-son develops a fierce erotic attraction to his mother, and imagines that he conquers her for himself. But then he learns, to his disappointment, that the mother “belongs” to “Father.”2 This arouses the child’s aggressive desires against the father, but since his way of thinking is still childish, he imagines that the father sees his forbidden thoughts, and is afraid lest he 1 For a cogent summation of the Freudian approach and the opposition to it in feminist thought, see Friedman, Annie Oakley, pp. 27–37. 2 On the nature of the “Father” and the “Law of the Father,” see below, n. 10, and the expansion in chap. 3.

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will be punished and the source of his pleasures taken from him. In other words, he fears castration. This anxiety is resolved only when the child learns that it is better for him to identify with his father instead of fighting him. He thereby resolves the Oedipal conflict by identification with the father, which transforms him into a “male” in his own eyes – a powerful male, similar to the father, and therefore someone capable of acquiring a woman, a substitute for the mother whom he forwent.3 Identification with the father is an extremely important process from the educational aspect, as well, for it is in this stage that the child internalizes the cultural values of “forbidden” and “permitted” that, so Freud maintains, come from the “father,” and not from the “mother.” Internalization of values is the basis for the development of the superego, that is responsible for everything related to guilt feelings, morality, and conscience. Freud was much more hesitant regarding the developmental process of the daughter, and despite his suggesting somewhat of a female developmental process, he sensed its insufficiency, and for the rest of his life he repeatedly spoke of what seemed to him as the “enigma” inherent in the female character.4 Freud assumed that the daughter, too, develops feelings toward her mother, but he argued that in the phallic stage, when she discovers that she lacks a penis, she views herself as an inferior creature and develops penis envy of the other sex. The girl blames the mother for her sense of castration, and therefore transfers her love from the mother (the object of her first love) to the father. From then on, a process occurs similar to that experienced by the son: the daughter, who is erotically attached to her father, battles with her mother over his love, and only when she realizes that she cannot receive from her father the “missing organ” – since it “belongs” exclusively to the mother – she changes the nature of the struggle: she identifies with the mother, and thereby acquires her sexual identity as a 3 It should be noted that empirical studies conducted in this field do not support Freud’s conjecture regarding the importance of fear of castration by the father during the course of the son’s separation from the mother. These studies show that the father’s support and positive approach, specifically, encourage the child to identify with him, and to abandon competitiveness and rivalry. See Bitman, Personality, vol. 1, p. 128. 4 For a comprehensive summary of this issue, see Gay, Freud, pp. 501–22, and the excellent bibliography, pp. 773–74.

“Masculinity” and “Femininity” in the Psychosexual Theory

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woman. The psychoanalytical significance of being a woman is therefore the acceptance of the fact of castration, followed by the awakening aspiration to attain for herself a male who gives her the missing phallus, that she can often identify, after birth, in her infant. Thus, Freud’s theory defines “femininity” as sexuality that developed as a result of jealousy of the male penis-possessor, and from the failure to be like him. Freud especially emphasizes this in his description of the daughter’s development: One cannot very well doubt the importance of envy for the penis. You may take it as an instance of male injustice if I assert that envy and jealousy play an even greater part in the mental life of women than of men. It is not that I think these characteristics are absent in men or that I think they have no other roots in women than envy for the penis; but I am inclined to attribute their greater amount in women to this latter influence.5

Freud also assumed that, since the daughter has no fear of castration, since she is already “castrated”, and is aware that she has no penis to be taken away from her, her Oedipus complex will never be finally resolved. Thus, according to Freud, she is incapable of developing a strong social-moral conscience like that of the son: The fact that women musty be regarded as having little sense of justice is no doubt related to the predominance of envy in their mental life; for the demand for justice is a modification of envy and lays down the condition subject to which one can put envy aside. We also regard women as weaker in their social interests and as having less capacity for sublimating their instincts than men.6

This Freudian approach was quite dominant in the past, and was the starting point for numerous dynamic psychological conceptions, even though many were uneasy with it. This concern was already voiced in the early 1940s by Karen Horney, who started out as a classical psychoanalyst. She opposed Freud’s declaration that women possessed a weaker conscience, and argued that penis envy was not a central factor

5 Freud, Psychological Works, vol. 22, p. 125. Cf. Philo:“For no Essene takes a wife, because a wife is a selfish creature, excessively jealous and an adept at beguiling the morals of her husband and seducing him by her continued impostures” (Philo, Hypothetica 11.14, trans. vol. 9, pp. 442–43). 6 Freud, Psychological Works, vol. 22, p. 134. Cf. the Talmudic assertion (BT Bava Metzia 87a): “A woman looks with a more grudging eye on guests than a man.” A statement in Sefer Hasidim (para. 135, p. 146) closely accords with Freud’s claim: “A person should not take his wife’s advice regarding a commandment, because she looks with a grudging eye on guests.”

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in the daughter’s seeking the father’s love, but rather the biological attraction characteristic of the female sex.7 Now, however, following the attention devoted to this topic in recent decades in feminist research, it seems that a completely different conception of the developmental course of “femininity” is emerging, one that refuses to place femininity in the shadow of masculinity and secondary to it. The most interesting countertheory to that of Freud was advanced by Nancy Chodorow, based on the assumption that the first meaningful son-daughter difference is the fact of the daughter’s birth to one of her one gender, while the son is born to one not of his gender. The daughter’s initial identification with one of her own sex facilitates the development of her feminine identity, while the son’s identification with the mother, whose sex is different from his, poses an obstacle to the development of his male identity. Unlike the daughter, during the course of normal development the son is to pass from the initial identification with the mother to identification with the father. And since the original connection with the mother is so strong – the symbiotic bond of such a tender age – it proves difficult to sever, and this might never be fully accomplished. Consequently, the son defines himself at the beginning, when he has somewhat distanced himself from the mother, in terms of separation and negation, as someone who is not a daughter, but a son; additionally, he is to identify with the father, who is a figure somewhat strange to him, and to whom his attitude is usually less intimate. This identification with the father therefore ensues from the need and necessity imposed on the son, more than from a profound emotional tie. The daughter faces a different difficulty. She need not exchange identities, but in the course of time she reveals that even if her identity is easily attainable, it is not as appreciated as that of the son. So, the son must invest effort to firmly base his identity, which is not self-understood, while the daughter, even if she feels that her identity is stable and distinct, has difficulty in accepting the fact of the lesser esteem afforded her identity. This analysis of the psychological development of sons and daughters led Chodorow to argue that the daughter is more intimately 7 Empirical studies, as well, did not provide evidence that women suffer from a feeling of inferiority due to their lack of a penis. See Bitman, Personality, vol. 1, p. 128.

Lacan’s Interpretation of the Freudian Theory

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aware of the experience of Being, while the son is closer to the experience of Doing. “Masculinity” is acquired through doing, while “femininity” is expressed by its very being, and in the woman’s dialogue with herself and with her fellow.8

Lacan’s Interpretation of the Freudian Theory Jacques Lacan, the French psychoanalyst who structurally reinterpreted what Freud wrote, focused attention not on the penis (the anatomical sexual organ), around which the great drama depicted above plays out, but on its symbolic meaning. To this end Lacan stressed the importance of the phallus – and not the penis – as defining the “male” element that was at the basis of the struggle. He defined “phallus” as an extension of the feeling of ownership, the feeling of “I have,” “this is mine”; and the inner expansion caused by this proprietary sense is the phallic sensation. The acquisition of a new object, profiting on the stock market, driving fast in a shiny automobile – all these are examples of phallic pleasure. Obviously, from this perspective, there are phallic women, just as there are phallic men. Lacan explains this thought: Why speak of the phallus and not of the penis? […] Because the phallus is not a question of form, or of an image, or of a phantasy, but rather of a signifier, the signifier of desire. In Greek antiquity the phallus is not represented by an organ but as an insignia; it is the ultimate significative object, which appears when all the veils are lifted. Everything related to it is an object of amputations and interdictions … The phallus represents the intrusion of vital thrusting or growth as such, as what cannot enter the domain of the signifier without being bared from it, that is to say, covered over by castration … It is at the level of the Other, in the place where castration manifests itself in the Other, it is in the mother – for both girls and boys – that what is called the castration complex is instituted. It is the desire of the Other which is marked by the bar.9

8 See Chodorow, “Being and Doing.” See also the depiction of being a woman in Rich, Of Woman Born, pp. 62ff. Rich emphasizes that, as a woman, she did not experience her body as distinct and divorced from the surrounding world, as the male experiences this. She reports of situations in which she felt “the melting of the walls of flesh […] blurring the boundary between body and body” (p. 63). For primary theoretical treatment experiments that seek to show that this distinction between “masculinity” and “femininity” has physical aspects, see, e.g., Dychtwald, Bodymind; Rushin, Left, Right. 9 Seminar of April-June 1958, “Les formations de l’inconscient,” cited by Mannoni, The Child, pp. 276–77. See also Lacan, “Signification”; Laplanche and Pontalis, Language of Psychoanalysis, pp. 312–14; Evans, Dictionary, pp. 140–44.

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And now we come to Lacan’s great innovation. He argued that there are two types of sexuality: phallic and nonphallic. Male sexuality is always phallic, since all males fall under the “Law of the Father,” the phallic rule;10 while sexuality for females is different: it is both phallic and feminine, that is, nonphallic. What is “feminine sexuality”? According to Lacan, this is sexuality with a relationship to the “infinite,” and he defines it negatively: it is not phallic sexuality. Masculinity, the pure phallic sexuality, is understandable, since the phallic movement is one within the time that is known to us and that is measurable. The phallus, like the penis, rises and falls; its movement is discernible, and we can say something about its essential nature; in contrast, female pleasure, that touches the “infinite,” cannot be comprehended. Moreover, by the very fact of its being a process that continues “endlessly,” it cannot be identified within the time processes known to us, all of which are related to the “Law of the Father.” In this context, Lacan mentions the fact that women, unlike men, are capable of experiencing multiple orgasms; this, then, is a physical expression of that touching of the “infinite.” Feminine sexuality might therefore be completely different from masculine sexuality, which led Lacan to argue that it would be erroneous to think that the male and the female are complementary opposites who can attain this completion in the sexual encounter. Lacan mentions that the recurring complaint voiced by men during the course of their treatment, in short, is that they do not receive what they want from the woman, and that she does not really understand them; while women frequently say that they do not receive what they want from men, despite their understanding the latter. With or without understanding, both sexes do not derive the sense of mutual completion and harmony from the relations between them. 10 The “Law of the Father” is the term Lacan used to define in the psychological world (more precisely: in the symbolic system in the life of the psyche; see Mannoni, The Child, p. 270; Evans, Dictionary, pp. 98–99) what Levi-Strauss saw in the world of laws, and the symbolic relationship of the world into which we are born. This symbolic system (“culture”) frequently opposes our hidden desires, which are given expression only in indirect fashions, in dreams and the like. The “Law of the Father” is therefore the symbolic structure constructed as the social language of words, and is similarly composed of strings of signifiers. Just as Levi-Strauss thought that the symbolic function of culture – any culture – is based on the first law, the “spark” that ignited culture, the law of incest, Lacan, following Freud, believed that the psyche’s symbolic network rests on the “Law of the Father” (see Mannoni, The Child, p. 271; Evans, Dictionary, p. 99).

The Drawbacks of the Freudian Approach

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To explain the profundity of this idea, Lacan uses Freud’s argument in Totem and Taboo that masculinity is the product of the early repression that follows the murder of the “mythic father” because of the longing to win the mother. Freud found this early repression responsible for the creation of the guilt feelings that led the “sons” (that is, men) to accept the “Law of the Father.”11 Consequently, we can say that we know what is “masculinity” (for both men and women), and that we can speak of it and understand it, since this collective acceptance of the “Law of the Father” is what defines the “male”; while women are not subject to a single law, and therefore possess an element that remains mysterious and incomprehensible to men; and, Lacan emphasizes, to themselves, as well. Lacan draws this into clearer focus by declaring that the woman does not exist, even though, obviously, there are many women: there is no female prototype, and every woman is a special case, an “individual rule” from which conclusions cannot be drawn regarding the essential nature of “femininity.”12

The Drawbacks of the Freudian Approach Each in their own way, Lacan and Chodorow raise a similar notion: the “feminine” experience differs from the “masculine” one in that it is not subject (at least not absolutely, like the male experience) to the process of desire that operates the phallic movement. Femininity is characterized by the experience of Being, unlike masculinity, with its experience of Doing. Since Freud hardly gave any thought to these understandings of the unique essence of femininity, we can definitely state that he regarded all psychological processes, of both men and women, as revolving around the phallic movement. Accordingly, the male penis stands at the center of the psychological drama that he depicts, and he connects 11 Although it should be said that, according to Lacan, males, too, can sometimes experience “feminine sexuality”; thus, the mystic, the poet, and the like, who relate to the infinite. See Evans, Dictionary, pp. 220–21. 12 The connection to the concept of the “individual rule” is mine. I am attempting here to present this Lacanian idea in a manner similar to the Kantian definition of beauty as an “individual rule” (see Lorand, On the Nature of Art, pp. 85–86). For more on these issues, see Kosman and Golan, “Woman’s Voice,” and the bibliography there.

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everything with the varying degrees of its presence or absence. As, however, Marilyn Yalom observed, if Freud had been born a woman, he might have preferred to view the structure of sexual development from a completely different perspective. Center stage in the human psychological drama would be occupied, not by the male penis, but by the female breast that feeds and gives – the first object, whose impact on the infant’s life is so decisive.13 Yalom suggests the following, as a mirror image to Freud’s theory: A boy’s mother is the first object of his love, and she remains so in essence all through his life. From the moment that he is attached to the mother’s breast, he cannot get enough of it. If a new baby comes to replace him at the maternal breast, he will greet his younger sibling as an intruder and reproach his mother for withholding the breast from him – the earlier, rightful possessor. Hence, the feelings of ambivalence toward the mother and the sibling rivalry that festers within so many families. As the little boy advances toward puberty, he harbors the fantasy that the breast will someday be restored to him. Unconsciously, he believes that he, too, like his sisters, will develop breasts in adolescence. When this does not happen, he feels seriously wronged. He holds his mother responsible for his defective chest and does not forgive her for having put him at such a disadvantage. He feels hollow and inferior to his sisters, with their bulging breasts, and he never gets over this sense of deficiency. The hopeless wish for his own breasts leaves ineradicable traces on the boy’s development and on the formation of his character. He desires throughout his life to avenge himself on women for possessing something which he lacks. Till the end of his days, the female breast will inspire in him both a desire for ownership and a rage at his own shortcomings in not developing breasts himself. The first sentiment usually translated into a need to touch or suck women’s breasts, and the bigger the better. The second sentiment results in self-contempt, which is sometimes displaced into acts of violence against women, with breasts specifically targeted for retaliation. Even as a father, the adult male will be jealous of the baby at his wife’s breast. He will always see that child as an interloper in the place that was originally his. Hence, the murderous wish he unconsciously holds toward his own offspring, and the inevitability of conflict between the generations. The desire for the breast must be seen as the foundation on which all of civilization lies, with both Eros and Thanatos warring for its possession.14

This amazing description of breast envy, with its ironic tone that is patently directed against the classic Freudian theory, aids us in clarifying the point raised above, if we assume that males, who must endure the 13 We should mention Melanie Klein’s observation that, for the newborn, the breast represent both the “good” and the “bad.” From this aspect, the following discussion of the identification of the breast as a central organ in the life of the psyche refers to the “good breast.” On Klein’s theory, see Segal, Klein, mainly chap. 4. 14 Yalom, History of the Breast, pp. 152–53.

The Drawbacks of the Freudian Approach

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heavy burden of the “Law of the Father,” suffer in one way or another from profound envy of the female ability to experience the “infinite.” And then we will be able to present the object of their jealousy by means of a specific physical organ: the breast, or the womb.15 In light of this, we can agree with Lacan, who wishes to shift the discussion from the anatomical organs themselves to what they represent, that is, softness and giving, on the one hand, and possessiveness, on the other. Males are envious of the female ability to live in a dimension that is not fixated on phallic ambition, that is entirely chained to the life of doing – namely, the ability to derive pleasure from Being as it is, without the aggressiveness and violence that accompany the acquisitive action of male Doing. In other words, this envy is directed to the female ability to touch the “infinite” (in Lacan’s terminology), or to what Jean Klein calls “Welcoming,” a term that he uses in order to relate to the ability to experiences moments of grace of contact with the Other as subject: Sustaining without concentration happens spontaneously when there is no agent, no sustainer. In the absence of a director who is interested in the object, the emphasis falls on the looking, welcoming, itself, and the object is set free.16 In other words, at the moment of taking note there is only taking note and nothing to note. The object is really only fixed energy and the release of the energy happens suddenly, unexpectedly.17

A description of the so complex relationship between masculinity and femininity could be enriched, in light of this observation, by the insight that envy (not as it was presented by Freud) is two-directional: a woman’s phallic aspect might cause her to be jealous of men, the possessors of a phallus, and to want to be like them; and, conversely, men are liable to envy women for the mysterious qualities of giving, warmth, and intimacy with which they have been blessed, the source of which men have difficulty in understanding.18

15 On the womb, see Fromm, Forgotten Language, 232–34. 16 That is, the process characteristic of Doing, of transforming the Other into an object, ceases. 17 Klein, Who Am I?, pp. 49–50. 18 If my proposal is plausible, then we can understand the sweeping complaint that can be understood from Yalom’s note that the Freudian phallus-centered theory is merely the continuation of “‘the reign of the phallus’ that has dominated Western civilization for the past twenty-five hundred years” (History of the Breast, p. 8).

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Sara Ruddick and the Care Experience This point is examined in another way by Sara Ruddick, who blazed a unique path among the diversity of feminist approaches. Ruddick argues that women think differently from men because they are somehow connected to the Care experience, of caring for and raising the child. Motherhood as a uniquely female occupation fosters a completely different type of experience, that is unknown to men. Ruddick’s conclusions lead her from a specific and precise analysis of the maternal way of thinking to far-reaching political thought, on changing the way of the world by the adoption of “maternal thinking.”19 Thus, for example, Ruddick portrays the mother’s pressing need to gaze upon the newborn, which is essential for the latter, but when done in a too pressing manner, arouses in the baby a sense of invasiveness and delays his development, which requires a great deal of freedom. Ruddick accordingly argues that women learn to develop a special way of looking, that, on the one hand, examines, while, on the other, is not overly oppressive, a sort of “remote supervision” of the playing child. The development of this complex “look” teaches women to acknowledge that, on the one hand, the child, for them, is an object that must be guarded above all, while, on the other, he is a subject, whose freedom, independence, and perhaps also privacy, must be respected. Ruddick believes that this uniquely female trait induces female humility, since, from the distance at which the woman supervises her child, she knows that she is not capable of completely controlling the situation. Obviously, the mother walks a tightrope here, and she is liable to slip into suffocating activity or, conversely, excessive passivity. Ideally, however, the practice of motherhood will produce a special type of maternal look that teaches the mother humility, one that “involves a selfless respect for reality.”20 Reaching a conclusion in a similar vein, Carol Gilligan observed that male images include violent fantasies, manifestations of aggressiveness, and conflicts, while the woman sees “a world of care and pro19 See Ruddick, Maternal Thinking. Fromm offers characteristics of the “masculine” and the “feminine” that closely resemble those of Ruddick. See Fromm, Art of Loving. For a discussion of this, and Schechter’s responses to Fromm’s characteristics based on several Talmudic sources, see Tadmor, Intentionality, pp. 180–85. 20 Ruddick, Maternal Thinking, pp. 72–73. Ruddick’s definition relies on the earlier definition by Iris Murdoch.

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tection, a life lived with others whom ‘you may love as much or even more than you love yourself.’”21 Even if aggressiveness is to be regarded as an instinctual impulse, Gilligan maintains that the violence in male fantasy seems rather to arise from a problem in communication and an absence of knowledge about human relationships. […] elevenyear-old Amy sets out to build connection where Kohlberg22 assumes it will fail.23

The different viewpoints presented here bring us to the central topic of this book: seeing the Other and the dialogue with him, which, as we already see, is prevented by the phallic relation. By its very definition as expansion and as conquest, phallicism regards the Other solely as an object to be used to attain its ends. We, however, must constantly remind ourselves that we are not speaking of men and women, but of masculinity and femininity.

Between Freud and Buber: Between Psychoanalysis and Dialogue If we accept Freud’s hypothesis of the existence of the unconscious in the life of the psyche, we must also accept the accompanying conjecture that a considerable portion of our psychological energy is invested in the effort to ignore wishes, stimuli, and feelings which we do not wish to confront, a process that Freud termed “repression.” Freud concluded from this that the structure of the human psyche is more complex than appears from a superficial examination, and even from our self-inspection. For if the structure of our psyche generates repressions, this implies the existence of a basic division, between the seemingly “dominant” part and other parts, that cannot be exposed and conscious. Freud called the part that exerts mental energy in the supervision and policing of the others the “ego,” and the other, unconscious, part, that is compelled to be “repressed,” the “id.”24 21 Gilligan, In a Different Voice, p. 38. 22 A scholar who posed moral dilemmas to boys and girls and examined their responses. See the discussion in Gilligan, In a Different Voice, pp. 24ff. 23 Gilligan, In a Different Voice, p. 45. 24 This primary division obviously has a very complex structure in Freudian theory, but its details are not pertinent for our discussion. For a more complete picture of the relation between the topographical model and the structural one in Freudian theory, see Bitman, Personality, vol. 1, pp. 92–99.

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Freud wondered why this complex and divided mechanism was created in the human psyche, and the answer he found was that the unconscious part contains types of thoughts, desires, and emotions that the “ego” repressed since they caused it anxiety, generally because these are the types of things that society regards as taboo. Such, for example, is the primal, universal repression that Freud thought to be the spark that ignites human culture:25 the repression of the child’s desire for his mother. The difficulty of acknowledging the existence of certain contents in our psyche and the tendency to repress them are therefore dependent on what is taboo in the society in which the individual was raised.26 At any rate, we have not yet fully answered the question of the purpose of the ego when it represses these undesirable contents. The social explanation is not exhaustive, since we can raise another question regarding it: Why does the ego fear the criticism of the surrounding society? Why doesn’t it ignore this criticism? And as we know, various individuals are distinguished from one another by their level of anxiety from contact with the realm of the “forbidden.” Freud addressed this issue by stating that the fear of social criticism is not the only reason why the “ego” acts to repress problematic contents. Its concentrated effort to repress unpleasant matters that emerge in mental activity is part of the hard work of self-organization, at the end of which it hopes to obtain the pleasure which it knows it cannot instantly attain: phallic pleasure. It is only at the price of repressing parts of the id, and to great degree, also of repressing the threatening voice of the superego, that the ego can hope to win the social recognition that will enable it to attain the desired gratification (the deep source controlling it is the desires latent in the id). Freud called this principle, that exposes the ego’s sophistication, the “reality principle.”27 But what is the pleasure sought by the ego? Freud assumed that the mental energy that drives man – whose hidden source is in the libidinal energies in the id – is the life-energy, the erotic energy, to which Freud later added the destructive urge, the Thanatos.28 25 See above, n. 10. 26 Although there are types of taboo that each human society adopts, such as the varieties of the taboo against incest, the majority are arbitrary and dependent on the local context of forbidden and permitted. 27 See Bitman, Personality, vol. 1, pp. 96–97. 28 For more on this important discovery by Freud, who did not expand on it, see Bitman, Personality, pp. 100–101.

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Unlike animals, Freud explained, man can derive erotic pleasure in many ways. First, because sexual energy can adopt many garbs; and second, the ego can effect sublimation processes in the nonsublimated sexual energy29 that it uses to create a broad range of new pleasurable possibilities. Thus, according to Freud, phallic pleasure is not necessarily that produced during the process of direct sexual stimulation – and, as we saw above in Lacan’s explanation, every expansion of the egoistic center creates phallic pleasure, since the phallus is defined as the expansion of the self. Consequently, every sensation of increasing and intensifying self-importance is a phallic sensation. At this point in our discussion, we find a linkage between two issues that Freud spoke of separately, and that are generally perceived as being unconnected: phallic energy and narcissistic energy. Methodical and consistent thinking about the essence of the issues proposed above leads us to conclude that these two forms of energy are closely bound together. If we understand that phallic pleasure is derived from the expansion of the egoistic center, then we must assume that this expansion primarily relates to the creation of the inner image of “being of value,” and that this image is the leading concern of the egoistic center. For the “male” who is engaged in Doing, in the conquest of some goal or other, his resources are not exclusively concentrated in the modest aim of releasing the drive energy in order to reach homeostasis (a state of balance, the silencing of the libidinal tension), as is the case for most animals, but this is a much more complex phenomenon: the “male” wants to prove his “masculinity” by an act of victory and conquest; by this act, he strengthens the existing (albeit tenuous) construction of the male image, from which he derives phallic pleasure. The Don Juan type, for example, derives phallic pleasure from repeatedly proving to himself that women fall prey to his charms, and based on these recurring “proofs” his ego succeeds in creating the desired image of the conquering male. This image, and not the physical orgasms themselves, that he probably could attain also in a prolonged relationship with a single partner, is the goal sought by the Don Juan, since it provides him with the most intense phallic pleasure. This last example leads us to conclude that the ego’s central activity is the formation of a highly important self-image; whether that of the

29 See the extensive discussion: Loewald, Sublimation.

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“charming Don Juan,” or any other image of the expansion of the self, the ego derives phallic pleasure from it. This activity can be presented in theatrical terms, as does Jean Klein: We are in the theatre watching our own play on stage. The actor is always ‘behind’ his persona. He seems to be completely lost in suffering, in being a hero, a lover, a rascal.30

This is a very complex and misleading structure. Lacan’s conclusions, that cast some light on the relationship between the “actor” and the “persona,” might aid in opening some of the entanglements of this thicket. Since we all act totally coupled to language, in both the manner of our communication with the external world and our inner lives (Lacan argued that the unconscious, too, is actually built from “language”), then the “actor,” the subject, is nothing other than words. Lacan emphasizes that it would be incorrect to say that the subject uses words; rather, the subject is moved by words, and indeed, is nothing more than them. When we speak or write, we present ourselves through words. This, however, according to Lacan, is not a direct communication between subjects. Lacan formulated his definition of verbal interpersonal communication as follows: “The signifiers present the subject to the other signifiers.” He meant that the subject’s signifiers are a sort of “advocate,” who presents his “client” in the most sophisticated fashion to the “advocate” of the subject facing him, who, in turn, performs a similar task for his client. According to Lacan, therefore, dialogue between two partners is not an innocent and direct conversation, in which two subjects exchange information about themselves by means of the language, as would appear at first glance. Exactly the opposite is the case: the “advocates” are supposed to represent their “clients” in a way that will completely blur their truth, and their goal is always to present the client in the way that seems best to them for the “transaction.”31 From 30 Klein, Who Am I?, p. 22. Erving Goffman finely presented this gap between the “actor” and the “person” he wears, based on studies and observations utilizing the precise scientific tools of microsociology. Goffman distinguishes between front and back, and precisely defines the manner in which the “actor” functions within the “person” in the complex situations of social life. See Goffman, Presentation of Self, esp. pp. 56–66. 31 On the sociological definitions of the modern “marriage transaction” in this spirit, see below, chap. 2. The Danish philosopher Kierkegaard, who, too,

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this aspect, language is not only communication meant to connect the speakers to each other; paradoxically, it is, first and foremost, a vehicle that separates them from one another! Moreover, Lacan believed that just as a lawyer who represents his client is not just his devoted and obedient agent, but is also an entity in his own right, who guides the client out of the lawyer’s own private interests, so too language, in the final analysis, becomes an “entity” in its own right vis-a-vis the subject – an entity that frequently blurs and confuses it. Just like that lawyer whose negotiations, goals, and way of acting are not always completely evident to his client, and the course of action he adopts is not necessarily the correct one for his client.32 The cynical and pessimistic portrayal of human “conversation” that I presented here in a number of variants is certainly correct in most instances, but undoubtedly arouses unease: are these all the inherent human possibilities? Is a person really only words, as Lacan describes him? Is there no likelihood in interpersonal communication of exceeding the impersonal patterns of the discourse between lawyers? Is there no way to breach this pessimistic picture of humankind, and make room for intimacy between any two people? The misleading mental structure from within which we speak with another person, and our concealed aim, like that Don Juan, to derive pleasure from the encounter, an aim that does not leave us free to listen to what emerges from the words of the other, are what led Martin Buber to concisely present the schematic of everyday, regular human relationships as “I-It.”33 Buber realized that we are generally not engaged in a true dialogue with one’s fellow that is based on actual listening. While, up front, the noted language’s misleading function, cites Talleyrand, who argued that man did not receive speech in order to express his thoughts, but to conceal them (see the discussion in Mualem, “Limits of Language,” pp. 146–47). Ludwig Wittgenstein writes in a similar spirit: “Language disguises thought. So much so, that from the outward form of the clothing it is impossible to infer the form of the thought beneath it, because the outward form of the clothing is not designed to reveal the form of the body, but for entirely different purposes” (Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, 4.002; trans., pp. 36–37). 32 See Hill, Lacan for Beginners, pp. 25–35. 33 Buber does not relate directly to Freud’s mechanistic assumption of the structure of the human psyche. See what he wrote on Freud’s teaching: Buber, “Education” (Between Man and Man, pp. 111–13); Shapira, Between Spirit and Reality, pp. 170–71. In a note opening the first introduction to his book Moses Buber calls Freud “auf seinem Gebiet so bedeutender Forscher” (see Buber, Moses, p. 7).

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ego presents its message to the other in a logical manner, and pretends to conduct a dialogue, in the back, hidden from sight, with great sophistication, it transforms the encounter into a tool, and the other into an object, hoping to derive some phallic pleasure through them. Returning to Klein’s metaphor, we can say that during the course of the dialogue each partner is engaged in screening his own private movie on the possible pleasure to be derived from this seeming dialogue. The Buberian concept of dialogue, as opposed to Lacan’s functional attitude to the other, posits that actual connection to the other as subject is possible, albeit very seldomly. Buber assumes that only awareness of our obtuseness will enable us to breach it. True dialogue is conditional on a clear and sober view, to the greatest extent possible, of these inner processes, and on placing them honestly, in clear view in the relationship between a person and himself, and between a person and his fellow.34 This perception of oneself and of the other invites a special type of love, that bears no resemblance to the falling in love that turns the other into an object to fulfill our lack.35 I will term this love “sight.”36 This is what Buber called the “I-Thou” relationship: If I face a human being as my Thou, and say the primary word I-Thou to him, he is not a thing among things, and does not consist of things This human being is not He or She, bounded from every other He and She, a specific point in space and time, within the net of the world; nor is he a nature able to be experienced and described, a loose bundle of named qualities. But with no neighbour, and whole in himself, he is Thou and fills the heavens. This does not mean that nothing exists except himself. But all else lives in his light.37

The idea of belief in God – specifically, the monotheistic concept of one God, to be precise, the idea of mystical divine unity in the Hasidic 34 The fellow could be the natural realm, the human realm, and the spiritual beings (Buber, I and Thou, pp. 21–22). 35 Lacan (if we set aside for a moment his revolutionary idea concerning the feminine and “infinite” sexuality) generally assumed that love is always built on an error of identification: the lover identifies in the loved the “object petit a” (in Lacanian terminology), and thereby objectifies it for himself; there is never a subject-subject meeting. 36 See below, chap. 2. 37 Buber, I and Thou, pp. 23–24. For a more precise understanding of the “I-Thou” relationship as contrasted with the “I-It” one, see Bergmann, Dialogical Philosophy, pp. 217–38; and the discussion in Dreyfus, Philosophical Dialogue, pp. 145–57. Sociologists, as well, using their own tools, noted that there are different types of relationship patterns. On a quite similar division by relationships, see Kosman, “Adam Gave Names,” pp. 82ff.

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context of our interpretation – underlies Buber’s assumption. According to him, an “I-Thou” relationship is possible only when a person is not fragmented, and is capable of listening to himself, as we explained above. Only then can he completely devote himself to listening to the other, and see him as “Thou”: The primary word I-Thou can be spoken only with the whole being. Concentration and fusion into the whole being can never take place through my agency, nor can it ever take place without me. I become through my relation to the Thou; as I become I, I say Thou. All real living is meeting.38

Buber, as a Jewish religious thinker, maintained that the divine, which is always “Thou,” the “Eternal Thou,” is present in such an encounter between one subject and another:39 The extended lines of relations meet in the eternal Thou. Every particular Thou is a glimpse through to the eternal Thou; by means of very particular Thou the primary word addresses the eternal Thou. Through this mediation of the Thou of all beings fulfilment, and non-fulfilment, of relations comes to them: the inborn Thou is realised in each relation and consummated in none. It is consummated only in the direct relation with the Thou that by its nature cannot become It.40

And once again, to Klein’s simple, but enlightening, formulation: In intimate or problematic situations, each must speak in humility of how they feel. It is simply a statement of facts with no justification, no interpretation. We must not look for a conclusion. If we allow the situation complete freedom from evaluation and judgement and pressure to find a conclusion, many things appear which do not belong to our memory. Humility arises when there is no reference to an ‘I’. This emptiness is the healing factor in any situation. […] Be open to non-concluding. In this openness the situation offers its own solution.41

Buber called such a meeting the “embrace of unifying.”42 All this allows us to somewhat clarify the Buberian concept of unity: when we come to meet one another, we are burdened with our own identities, experiences, and baggage, from within which a certain narrative is pres38 Buber, I and Thou, p. 11. On the need for that man to first listen to himself and not act in a fragmented manner, see the extensive discussion on the narrative of R. Assi and his mother (below, Chapter Four). 39 For Buber’s concept of the “eternal Thou” (or the “absolute Thou”), see Horwitz, “How the Book,” pp. 169–71. 40 Buber, I and Thou, p. 75. 41 Klein, Who Am I?, p. 23. 42 See Bergmann, Dialogical Philosophy, p. 225. Bergmann’s discussion is most probably the 1925 essay by Buber, “Al ha-Ma’aseh ha-Hinukhi” (translated as “Education” in Between Man and Man, pp. 109–31).

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ented. But there is no meaning to its presentation to the other as long as the parties to the meeting present two narratives that are set forth and confront each other in the nonempty space of inattentiveness. This is the situation we encounter in our everyday lives. The divine-inner “miracle,” the state of mind in which “the Divine Presence abides” between the two parties in dialogue (“When husband and wife are worthy, the Divine Presence abides between them” – BT Sotah 17a) occurs when each party to the conversation frees a true, experiential, place for sincere attentiveness to the different narrative that arises from the Otherness standing before him. This profound attentiveness may be called “humility.” As Klein explains this: Humility is not something you wear like a garment. It has nothing to do with bowed heads and averted eyes! It comes from the reabsorption of individuality in being, in stillness. It comes from the ending of all agitation. In attention, alertness, there is humility. It is receptivity, openness, to all that life brings. Where there is no psychological memory, no accumulation of knowledge, there is innocence. Innocence is humility.43

A Note on the Relationship between “I-Thou” and Halakhah and “Law” The direction charted by Buber could be understood as a call to rebel against all the formal modes of communication of language embodied in the halakhah and “law” in general, but this would be incorrect. For Buber, every type of “revolt” is an absolute mistake, since it is done from its nature, not in a dialogic way, and rather creates a new dogma or “just ideology,” that arrogantly raises itself over its predecessors. The call for dialogue seeks a deeper understanding of the law, that actually expands the realm of its applicability. For someone in an “I-Thou” relationship, the encounter with the “Eternal Thou” constantly renews itself. The “encounter” is a response to the divine command that the individual “hears” within the “situation,” that mandates some action or other; consequently, he is constantly commanded at each and every moment of his life by the “individual law” of which we spoke above, that is reborn, fresh and true, in the moment of the encounter with the “Thou.” What, then, is the role of the “Law,” according to the Buberian way of thinking? When an enlightened society formulates its laws with hu43 Klein, Who Am I?, p. 23.

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mility and tolerance, and with the understanding that their application is always a private matter that is connected to the inner world of each person at a given moment and his unique capacity, then it does not attempt to strictly impose the “Law of the Father” on its members. This society has only two concerns: the establishment of general principles that enable each individual to remember the general orientation of the law; and the defense of the weak against harm by those who seek to derive improper benefit by taking advantage of this relative freedom. This is like the difference between the school as an institution whose activity is based on the assumption that “the devisings of man’s mind are evil from his youth” (Gen. 8:21) and “he who spares the rod hates his son” (Prov. 13:24), thereby combining a prison with a preachy institution that brainwashes the child with platitudes and hollow demands, on the one hand; and, on the other, an educational institution that assumes that “God made men upright, but they have engaged in too much reasoning” (Eccl. 7:29). True educational work resembles that of the devoted gardener, who provides the tender shoots with all the conditions they need to blossom on their own, in their own way, and does not interfere in their growth with direction and criticism. Any such intervention would count as the “much reasoning” that spoils the tree’s natural growth, which is the upright and correct growth – even if things sometimes appear differently to the “gardener.” This is the secret of the gardener’s dialogue with the budding shoot, and the secret of love.44 This sharp distinction between institutionalized “religion” in its problematic sense, that imposes a dogmatic, harsh, and inflexible “Law of the Father,” and the attentive “religiosity” that Buber proposes, requires very sharp rational vision, on the one hand, and, on the other, the ability to clearly see the inner world, in which the great drama between the repressor and the repressed is played out.45

44 For the educational act and its relation to Eros, see Buber, Between Man and Man, pp. 120–25. 45 On the distinction between “religion” and “religiosity,” see the extensive distinction: Kosman, “Obedience to the Law.” Marshall Rosenberg recently linked these dialogic elements with various psychological approaches, thereby posing an intriguing educational challenge that could turn our theoretical discussions into a practical guidance approach capable of aiding in the development of dialogic relationships from kindergartens to institutions of adult education. See Rosenberg, Nonviolent Communication.

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Phallicism, Humility, and the Tension between “Masculinity” and “Femininity” in the Aggadic Narratives Each of the chapters in this book, that are literary readings of texts from the aggadic literature, examines the attitude of the Talmudic narratives to the phallic structure of the masculine reality in its contact with the female “infinite.” In my suggested reading, these texts confront the phallic, masculine world – as it transfers its achievement-oriented movement of expansion to the “religious” sphere and the life of the study hall – with the Being represented by the female side. In the first narrative, of Mar Ukba and his wife, my reading emphasizes the inability of the masculine character of this prominent rabbi to “see” what his wife’s simple “good heart” enables her to. This conclusion drawn from a reading of the Talmudic narratives is especially significant in light of the texts of nascent Christianity, with their patent depiction of the woman as an inferior being, who is incapable of directly meeting God and who needs the male’s intermediation. We find this explicitly in Paul’s writings, in the hierarchical order set forth in I Corinthians 11:3:46 “But I want you to understand that the head of every man is Christ, the head of a woman is her husband, and the head of Christ is God.”47 The aggadah, in contrast, frequently emphasizes the spiritual quality of the “simple person” – which in many instances is represented by the woman, specifically – and shows that it is closer to God than the one who turns the arena of religious activity into a racetrack, with achievement as the prize.

46 See Ruether, Sexism, pp. 53ff. Cf. also Weisberg, “Man Imagining Women,” that indicates that the sages of the Talmud had no difficulty in conceiving that women are in direct contact with God. Weisberg concludes: “While the Rabbis may have seen women as somewhat foreign beings, they did not regard them as alienated from God.” 47 The continuation of Corinthians also speaks clearly on this matter. Vv. 7–10 state: “For a man ought not to cover his head, since he is the image and glory of God; but woman is the glory of man. For man was not made from woman, but woman from man. (Neither was man created for woman, but woman for man.) That is why a woman ought to have a veil on her head, because of the angels.” In the interests of precision, however, we should note that vv. 11–12 assert “in the Lord woman is not independent of man nor man of woman.” See the extended discussion of these verses by Orr and Walther, I Corinthians, pp. 258ff.; Byrne, Paul, esp. the discussion in chap. 3, pp. 31–58; see also the bibliography in Kosman and Golan, “Woman’s Voice,” n. 11.

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The preference in several of the narratives of the feminine “Infinite,” while casting the sage’s “phallicism” in an absurd light, somewhat explains the secrecy of the experience about which Lacan argues not much can be said with “language.” Even if we cannot precisely define feminine sexuality, the “infinite” experience of “nonphallic” pleasure, we might be able to offer some characteristic features. This book will propose several of those features. In the background of the aggadic thought, in numerous Talmudic narratives, are a few expressions of the preference of some of the features of the “infinite” experience which, I argue, coalesce into a distinct theological conception. These fall into nine categories: 1. Criticism of the “masculine” inclination to achievements and phallic “expansion” – even when it is directed inward to the Jewish system of Torah study and observance of the commandments, together with the common presentation of the “woman” as being dissociated from this tendency and diametrically opposite to the “masculine.” This critique tends to expose the egocentric, narcissistic mental structure of the heroes who are immersed in their pursuit of achievements, even if their efforts are invested in the religious system itself. This, in turn, leads to the aggadic tendency to highlight the importance of the negotiation, the dialogue, in the realistic “material” world. This conception assumes that the ideal is not monastic separation from the life of this world, that presumably reflects evil and is opposed to the spiritual world that reflects good. “Good” is to be found only in unity and in dialogue on the real, material level (which, in many cases, is presented as the “woman” [Mother-Matter]). Just as excessive absorption in “living for the moment,” desire, Eros, will not draw man closer to the divine element, so, too, exaggerated concern with “eternal life” will not lead to affinity with the good, but to Thanatos and death.48 48 Here lies the basis of the Rabbis’ trenchant argument with the Pauline ideas. As an illustration of this controversy and the stance of the aggadah, see, e.g., the narrative on R. Rehumi in BT Ketubot 62b. Many scholars have examined this short and wonderful narrative (see: Frenkel, Studies, pp. 99–102; Barkai and Leon, The Aggadic Tale, pp. 4–5; Boyarin, Carnal Israel, pp. 146ff.), and I merely wish to note that R. Rehumi found the “divine” only in the sphere of the “He” (in “Heaven”) and not in that of “Thou” (meeting the Other on “earth”). The movement of his separation from his wife, who awaits him with her feet firmly on the land – that intensifies throughout the narrative – reflects a quasi-Pauline position, in which the Rabbis saw destruction and death, and therefore R. Rehumi eventually brings down upon himself the entire “study hall” (= ideology) that he “built.”

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2. The presentation of humility and simplicity as supreme values. These values cannot coexist with other human goals on the same level, for once these traits have been turned into another of the ego’s “goals,” they no longer are essentially natural and simple: “R. Isaac said: That which wisdom makes the crown for its head, humility makes the imprint of her shoe [suliyah (= sulamah)].”49 3. The tendency to emphasize the importance of the act that comes from the heart, in contrast with acts based on compliance with a system of law or custom, that follows “mechanical” rules that are clear and known in advance, and that assumes that it knows God’s “demands” of man. 4. Stressing the centrality to religious life of giving (this and the preceding element contain the ideational refrain of all the book’s chapters). Max Weber called the religious conception underlying this giving “inside the world asceticism.” It does not ensue from neglect of the importance of man and his life in this world (as in its parallel, “outside the world asceticism”), but from profound empathy for the other and his situation (whatever it is) within the world, and from the aspiration to improve the world and rectify it on behalf of all God’s creatures, without attempting to “extricate” them from it and give them the ability to gaze upon it apart from its concrete events, and without any attempt to negate these events as not substantive and unimportant. Conversely, nor is there any disposition to present “this world” and its occurrences as possessing intrinsic importance and meaning. The only actual event of importance is the very meeting, opening one’s heart to the other, which cannot happen without giving full attention to the happenings of this world, as they are engraved in the inner world of the other.50 5. Abundant attention to the concerns of the stranger, the Other, and listening to him and his different world.51 49 For sulyah-sulamah, and for the evolving versions of this dictum, see Lieberman, Ha-Yerushalmi Kiphshuto, p. 36. On God’s humility as an example for all, see the sources listed in Kosman, Men’s Tractate, p. 44 n. 28 (and see: Men’s World, p. 52 n. 30); see also Kosman, “Paradox of Modesty.” 50 To round out this discussion, see also Kosman, “Obedience to the Law.” For Weber’s understanding, see Weber, Sociology of Religion, pp. 166–83; see the discussion by Margolin, Human Temple, pp. 145–47. 51 From the masculine perspective of the sages of the study hall, the extensive occupation with the image of the woman – and the fact that she is the one who appears in many tales as the true heroine – is to be regarded as connected, inter alia, with special attentiveness to a different world. In the closed society of men

Phallicism, Humility, and the Tension between “Masculinity” and “Femininity”

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6. Exposing the inner fragmentation that is acutely present where the phallic orientation exists, and that leads, not only to blindness toward the Other, but also to a lack of self-awareness and to self-denial. This point is explained at length in Chapter Three (the narrative of R. Assi and his mother), where we learn that the hero lacks awareness of his true motives and tends to ascribe them to “supreme religious values.” 7. The presentation of a harmonious, organic worldview that sees all of reality as constructed of underlying mutual relations between the microcosmic and the macrocosmic; between the details and the supreme, unified cosmic structure.52 This conception is related to the seemingly Platonic assumption that the material world of details somehow embodies or reflects what occurs in the spiritual world, and vice versa. In both the Bible and the Rabbinic literature this principle is generally conveyed in the idea that everything is subsumed under the rule of “measure for measure,”53 that assumes every punishment is always an expression of “spoiling,” and that every “spoiling” can be corrected.54 8. The belief that the material, mechanistic reality, as well as the “phallic” mental reality that follows mechanistic cause-and-effect laws, are merely a cover for the hidden content of the “spiritual” that drives the reality. This is why the aggadic narratives in this collection, and many additional such tales, frequently accentuate the presence of God in a miraculous occurrence, as a concealed force that is revealed in the reality only after the divine revelation of “opening one’s heart” has occurred in the individual’s world. In other words, the “embrace of unity” that comes with the opening of the heart in an “I-Thou” rein the study hall, the “woman” – including the one with whom they lived as a wife – is frequently the Other. See Kosman, Women’s Tractate, pp. 127–40. 52 On the holistic element in the New Age perception of reality, cf. the extensive description by Hanegraaff, New Age Religion, chap. 6, esp. pp. 139–51. 53 See Kosman, Men’s Tractate, pp. 96–97 and n. 6 (and see: Men’s World, p. 105 n. 8). 54 This formulation is not the only possible one, and could be spoken of in language suitable to a deontological orientation. I mention this because Yohanan Silman accurately showed that at the basis of these matters is the tension between the tautologic position, that sees the Torah’s source of validity in the self-sanctified divine order, on the one hand, and the deontological stance, on the other, that finds this exclusively in the divine decree. See Silman, “Commandments and Transgressions”; idem, “Halakhic Determinations”; and in his latest formulation: idem, Voice Heard at Sinai (see also the reference, p. 151 and n. 5).

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lationship is not the end of the process, but its beginning, since the circle of unity is never particularist.55 The contact with the “Thou” is always contact with the “eternal Thou”; consequently, just as man opens his heart to the divine, so, too, the heavenly opens its heart to the human, to the reality “with its two feet on the ground.” The “miracle” is therefore always a mental miracle: the “embrace of unity” between the “human” and the “divine” poles.56 This category is connected to the inclination known in the research of religions as “internalization.” Margolin (Human Temple, pp. 62ff.), who examined this at length, emphasizes that this inclination is expressed, in the history of religions, as the replacement of ritual traditions, such as the offering of sacrifices in temples, by inner religious observance, such as fasts, meditation, and the like. This divine service is meant to transform man’s body and thought into a sacred place. A more refined aspect of internalization places total emphasis on man’s state of mind, that is, on the holy man’s inner situation, that is concealed from the outer eye, and that cannot be expressed in the outer world. In this case, the highest state of the holy man is that in which the egocentric tendency is negated, to be replaced by saintly humility. Since, by its very nature it is not externalized, this aspect is usually unknown to the outer environment that envelops the holy man. This nevertheless finds expression in the myths present in all religions of the hidden righteous, by whose merit the world as a whole exists. In the Jewish tradition, this group of myths is known as the “thirty-six tzaddikim [= holy men]” (see below, Chapter One, n. 65). The analyses I will present in this book will show that the figure of the hidden holy man frequently appears in the Rabbinic narrative, as that of the Other, who is relegated by the societal context (it should be recalled that these narratives are concerned with the religious society) to the very fringes of that society. The task of the narrative, therefore, is to lead the reader to the inner journey that – parallel to his progress in 55 See the extensive discussion below, chap. 2. 56 Rotenberg, “Dialectics,” highlights the fact that this “correction” is of special significance in the Jewish tradition. In contrast with the Christian tradition, in which, in its conflict conception, the “son” seeks to become a sort of “god,” that is, to become “sacred” by divorce from the world, the Jewish tradition perceives the “God-father” as limiting Himself and descending in order to participate with His “son” in this world. Rotenburg roots this mainly in Kabbalistic and Hasidic conceptions, but it seems to me that their early source can already be found in the aggadic texts that we will explore below.

The Chapters of the Book

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the plot of the narrative he reads – will reveal the places where he himself is blocked from the divine revelation, since he is accustomed to close the doors of his house to the Other. 9. An additional characteristic that I discovered during a study of the insights provided by the Talmudic narratives: the Doing experience of the masculine element is characterized by its fierce drama, as regards both its attitude to the single event in the chain of such occurrences of daily life, and its general disposition towards life (which explains the striking masculine tendency to create obligatory ideologies that embrace the entire world). Doing’s world is one of dramas, which is the place, for Being, of a simple and tranquil experience. The Talmudic narrative casts the masculine proclivity for dramatization in an ironic light, as childish. The women in these narratives, in contrast, are typified by a tranquility that uncritically contains the dramas created by the masculine side (as in the well-known tale in BT Kiddushin 81b of the wife of R. Hiyya bar Ashi, who stands in contrast to her husband, the instigator of dramas). This depiction is especially marked in light of the common stereotype – that appears in Talmudic narratives, as well – of the hysterical woman, who acts on the basis of unbridled emotions.

The Chapters of the Book Chapter One is a literary reading of the Talmudic narrative of Mar Ukba and his wife (BT Ketubot 67b). This reading centers around the attempt to understand the hero’s name as a literary means that is the key to the story’s hidden code. This will be joined by a discussion that clarifies, from the gender and theological aspects, the elements of the tension between the male “phallus” representations and the “feminine” representations in the narrative, along with an examination of the ways of approaching the divine that this explanation offers. Chapter Two extensively explores the different versions of the story of R. Akiva’s beginnings and his relationship with the daughter of Ben Kalba Sabua, and especially interprets the Babylonian Talmud version (BT Ketubot 62b). The conclusions I drew from the narrative’s message joins it to the Mar Ukba narrative: I show how it spotlights the feminine “infinite” aspect, and its capacity for dedication and sacrifice, and places them as the concealed nucleus of the concept of “Torah.” Unlike the Mar Ukba tale, however, in this story even R. Akiva is not present in the regular phallic relationship of Doing, despite what seems

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to be the case at first glance. Further study shows that the couple were gifted with the ability of “sight,” a term that will be extensively discussed in this chapter. Chapter Three is centered around the narrative of R. Assi’s flight to the Land of Israel from his mother in Babylonia (BT Kiddushin 31b). Here, as well, the main characters are a man and a woman, but the narrative is mainly concerned with the relationship between obedience to the “Law of the Father” and the repressed system of inner desires represented by the pole of the “mother.” The issue at the heart of the discussion will not be listening to the “stranger” beyond us, but our ability to listen to ourselves, and not to ignore what happens in the place closest to us: our psyche. Once again, the message that emerges from the narrative is fundamentally religious, the need to keep one’s distance from the inner falsehood that garbs itself on the cloak of the “Law of the Father,” because of its accompanying spiritual damage. Chapter Four continues the discussion of the complex relationship between the “mother’s body” and the sages of the study hall, in the mysterious tale of a sage called “the suckling who perverted the way of his mother” (BT Bava Batra 9a–b). Its main topic is the symbolic representation of the female breast within the masculine world of the study hall sages, but its contents are replete with understandings formulated in the preceding chapters concerning the tension between the “feminine” and “masculine” poles and its theological significance. Here, too, the simple woman shows the sages the great inner truth that cannot be comprehended with rational tools, but rather is learned in an experiential way, in a sort of sudden “illumination” that, so it is related, can effect the physical and spiritual healing of the two rival sages. *** I beg the reader’s indulgence, and ask to hold in abeyance the initial criticism I am sure that my book’s methodology will arouse. I refer mainly to the possible argument that what I find within the world of the sages might be improperly borrowed from the religious thought of Eastern religions (primarily Buddhism).57 The formulation of the delicate insights of the rich spiritual world that I found in the Talmudic 57 A similar line of reasoning appears in Buber’s essay on the sources of Judaism, “The Spirit of the Orient and Judaism” (Buber, On Judaism, pp. 56–78). Buber was of the opinion that “the Jews are the Orient’s latecomers” (p. 63). See also Koren, “Buber and Steiner,” pp. 106–9.

The Chapters of the Book

27

aggadic narrative extended over a period of many years, and demanded of me more than a purely intellectual analysis: I had to employ a great deal of “inner vision,” that not only thinks of its object, but actually experiences it, with the intent to “enter right into the object itself and see it, as it were, from the inside.”58 Writing about the sensitive realm of the psyche requires all one’s energies and inner resources, if the author sincerely wishes to reach the truth. When engaged in scholarly writing on “inner” matters (as they are called in the Hasidic literature), listening to the text’s “Thou” becomes a most difficult task, one that by its very nature is limited.59 Another, and no less complex, difficulty emerges from the need to formulate these understandings (that the author grasps intuitively) in scientific language, that is wholly the language of the “It.”60 Erich Fromm already observed about such writing that “it cannot be formulated in thought, while it is characteristic of all bad analysis that ‘insight’ is formulated in complicated theories which have nothing to do with immediate experience.”61 *** The first four chapters of this book, published in English by de Gruyter, are based on a translation of my Hebrew book Femininity in the Spiritual World of the Talmudic Story, that was published in 2008 by the Hakkibutz Hameuchad publishing house in Israel, in the Helal Ben Hayyim academic series. These were joined by a new and expansive chapter that offers an original dialogical reading of the Creation narrative from a midrashic perspective. Three of the chapters in this book have been published in different academic venues, and this exposure was only beneficial. For this, my thanks to the editors of these forums: Chapter One was adapted from my Hebrew article “The Hero’s Name as a Literary Device in the Talmudic Story in Gender Contexts: The Case of Mar ‘Uqba’ (TB Ketubot 67b),” in These Are the Names: Studies in Jewish Onomastics, ed. A. Demsky (Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2003), pp. 61–93. I first formulated the central idea set forth in Chapter Three as a lecture delivered at the Exile and Homeland conference held in June 1999 at the Literature Department of BenGurion University in the Negev. I am grateful to the psychoanalyst 58 See Fromm, “De-Repression,” p. 133; see also p. 132, on the nature of this “inner vision” (or “insight,” as Fromm terms it). 59 On the text as “Thou,” see Kepnes, The Text as Thou. 60 On this issue, see Barzilai, Homo Dialogus, pp. 61–63. 61 See Fromm, “De-Repression,” p. 132.

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Dr. Ruti Golan and Dr. Naomi Tene, who contributed several fascinating comments, and to the anonymous lectors of the chapter for Jerusalem Studies in Hebrew Literature, where this chapter was first published (vol. 19 [2003], pp. 48–63). Chapter Four was published in English as “The Female Breast and the Male Mouth Opened in Prayer in a Talmudic Vignette (BT Bava Batra 9a–b),” Jewish Studies Quarterly 11 (2004), pp. 293–312. *** I wish to thank several of the people who supported me in the arduous academic journey that led to the publication of the previous Hebrew version (translated here as the first four chapters of this book, with some corrections and additions). First and foremost, the late Prof. Meyer Simhah Feldblum, who supervised my doctoral dissertation, and was a constant source of moral support during my years as a lecturer at Bar-Ilan University. Rabbi Prof. Walter Homolka, from the Abraham Geiger College in Berlin (who also initiated my contact with the de Gruyter publishing house), and Prof. Karl Erich Grözinger, of Potsdam University, supported me and, with patience and warmth, encouraged me as I began my way in the academic institutions in which I currently teach. And last but not least, Prof. Yehuda Friedlander, Prof. Uzi Shavit, and Prof. Abraham Shapira, who gave me no rest until the Hebrew manuscript was submitted to the Kibbutz Hameuchad publishing house. They never figuratively raised their eyebrows or were condescending, but always regarded the poetic, religious, and academic trinity that characterized my way from the beginning as natural and self-understood. I wish to thank Edward Levin for the exceptional skill – and patience – he demonstrated in his translation of the book. I want to take this opportunity to also thank those who aided me in the various stages of the writing of the book: first, my parents, Shmuel and Sara Kosman, who showed such kindness by sending to my university in Germany any Hebrew book that I needed over the years; all my colleagues and friends, including Dr. Aviezer Cohen, Dr. Anne Brenker, Martin and Grzegorz Kujawa, Dr. Nathanael Rimmer, and Sofia Nowak; Tamar Peleg, the editor of the Hebrew edition, who exhibited such discernment and patience while improving the first draft; and special thanks to my dearest wife Hanna, who apart from giving always a helpful hand was the first to hear the ideas expressed here, and from whom I learned so much about the experience of Being.

An Introduction to the Discussion of the Narrative

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Chapter One The Woman’s Spiritual Place in the Talmudic Story: A Reading of the Narrative of Mar Ukba and His Wife “I will be standing before you” (Exod. 17:6) – the Omnipresent said to him: Wherever you find the mark of man’s feet, there I am before you. (Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, De-Vayassa 7, p. 175)1

An Introduction to the Discussion of the Narrative The study of the world of religion assumes, in a very general formulation, that the female’s standing in early religious thought was inferior to that of the male, and this statement patently includes the Talmudic conception. Scholars never doubted that the sages of the Talmud assigned a higher spiritual place to the male than to the female.2 This common assumption was supported by the fact that Torah study, an occupation that was deemed the highest in the Talmudic hierarchical ladder,3 was an almost exclusive male preserve.4 1 See also Kasher, Torah Shelemah, vol. 13, p. 247, para. 28. 2 On woman’s standing in the Talmudic sources, see Boyarin, Carnal Israel, pp. 77–106. The examination by Valler, Women in Jewish Society, pp. 177–87, shows that women were regarded as potential partners in the masculine moral world (note should be taken of the prominence in folkloristic tales of the tendency to present women as morally inferior; see Noy, Every Month, pp. 220–21; cf. the discussion on woman’s morality in the Introduction, above). The morallegal orientation, however, is not our concern here. I wish to examine the more general theological question pertaining to adherence to God in “masculine” and “feminine” ways, as will be explained below. 3 On the sage as heading the social hierarchy, see Hazani, “Etrog and Lulav,” esp. pp. 28–30. 4 The position that erected an impermeable barrier against women’s entry to the study hall was even more inflexible in Babylonian society, in which our story takes place, than in the Land of Israel society. See Boyarin, Carnal Israel, pp. 167–78.

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The narrative for which I propose a rereading is one example of what I have found, and continue to find, to be a body of narratives in the Rabbinic literature that, in contemporary terms, can be seen as a subversive corpus, that completely undermines this assumption regarding women’s standing in the Talmud. The woman in the following narrative is presented (as I will show below) as someone who is not as learned as her husband, but whose modesty, good-heartedness, and humility overshadow the outstanding scholarliness of the husband, who is portrayed as totally egocentric. Admittedly, the polar tension in this narrative is between the masculine side and the feminine, as the following analysis will show; but it should be stressed that at times other tales included in the corpus present in polar positions two males, one in an achievement-oriented “masculine” stance, and the other, in a “feminine” stance, that is characterized in these narratives by acceptance of the Other and natural good-heartedness. Consequently, it would be preferable (following Nancy Chodorow) to present this as the tension between a phallicmasculine stance centered around Becoming or Doing and the feminine experiential stance that has Being at its core.5 The reading I propose for the following narrative reveals the narrator’s message: in the spiritual world, the human effort to gain spiritual achievements is not of great significance, this effort is based in an egocentric approach that is blind to anyone else, while the “feminine,” nonachievement-oriented stance, that accepts the Other as he is, is of true spiritual worth. In other words: the male hierarchical order, with its high-low scale based on the “quantity” of intellectual achievements acquired after much effort, is completely negated in the spiritual world of truth. It is the one who forgoes the race after accomplishments and humbly accepts his “lowly” place who, after all is said and done, is at the head of the spiritual value scale.6

5 Chodorow argued, as I showed in the preceding chapter, that the daughter is closer to the experience of Being, and the son, to that of Doing. “Masculinity” is acquired by force of doing, which is expressed in a strong urge to achieve, while “femininity” is expressed by its very being, and in the woman’s dialogue with herself and her fellow. 6 This revolutionary idea of the aggadah will be discussed below, in chap. 2.

The Text of the Narrative

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The Text of the Narrative The narrative of Mar Ukba and his poor neighbor, in BT Ketubot 67b:7 ,hytvbby>b Xyni hvh Xbqvi rm .1 .X>dd Xrvnyjb yzvz hibrX hyl yd>d Xmvy lk lygr hvhd .Xtvbyu Xvhh yb dybiq ]Xm yzxyX lyzyX :rmX dxX ,vy ,X>rdm ybl Xbqvi rml hyl Xhgn Xmvy Xvhh ,hydhb vhtybd XytX .5 ,vhyyrtb qpn X>dl hyl yljm Xqd hvyzxd ]vyk ,hymqm uvhr ,Xrvn hpvrg hvhd XnvtX Xvhhl ylyyi ,Xbqvi rmd hyirk ]yylqym Xq hvh :vhtybd hyl hrmX .10 .yXirkX bytvX „yirk lvq> ,hytid >lx .ytyynhX Xbrqmv Xtybd hyvgb Xnxyk> XnX :hyl hrmX This narrative is followed by a Stammaitic addition:

br rmX hl yrmXv ,br rmX hybvu rb Xruvz rm rmXd ?yXh ylvk yXmv ]vim> ybr ,v>m ]nxvy r "X hl yrmXv ,Xdycx > "r rmX Xnzyb rb Xnvh vrbx ynp ]ybly lXv >Xh ]>bk „vtl vmji rvcmy> ,dXl vl xvn :yxvy ]b .[hk ,xl ty>Xrb ] ‘tXj" V m Xyh ’ :bytkd ,rmtm ?]l Xnm .,ybrb

7 The Aramaic version cited here is that of the Vilna edition. The changes in the manuscripts are minor and unimportant for our purposes, and therefore are not marked. See Herschler, Ketubot, vol. 2, pp. 125–27. For the parallels to this narrative, see Gaster, Ma’aseh Book, pp. 148–49, and his list of parallels, p. 227 para. 228.

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Translation to English: 1. Mar8 Ukba9 had a poor man in his neighborhood, into whose door-socket he would place four zuz [coins] very day. One day he10 said:“I will go and see who does me this kindness.” That day Mar Ukba was late in the study hall, 5. [and] his wife was coming home with him.11 When he12 saw them moving13 the door, he went out after them, [but] they fled from him [and] ran into a furnace from which the fire had just been swept.14 Mar Ukba’s feet were burning. 8 On the appellation “Mar,” see below, n. 59 in this chapter. 9 Hyman, Toldoth, vol. 3, pp. 975–78, assumes that the narrative is about Mar Ukba the Exilarch, who lived in the first generation of Amoraim. Iggeret Rav Sherira Gaon relates that this Mar Ukba served as Exilarch after R. Huna (who died during the lifetime of R. Judah ha-Nasi), and headed an important court in the city of Kafri. Like the other Exilarchs, Mar Ukba was considered to be a descendant of King David. He was both a rabbinical judge and preacher, and he maintained ties with the Rabbis in the Land of Israel, who were very respectful in the letters they wrote to him. Tales of his righteousness and charitableness abounded. Margalioth, Encyclopedia, vol. 2, pp. 649–51 and Steinsaltz, Ketubot, vol. 2, p. 301 (“Individuals”) wrote in a similar vein. This identification, that unites a series of Talmudic sources around a single individual, however, is not at all certain, since we may reasonably assume the existence of an additional Amora with a similar name (“Ukba” or “Ukban”), also an Exilarch. See Albeck, Introduction, pp. 176–77, esp. n. 76; 204–6. Neusner, History of the Jews, vol. 2, pp. 98–107, concludes that there were two “Mar Ukba”s, only one of whom was Exilarch in the time of Rav and Samuel (he was preceded in this surmise by Krochmal; see Weiss, Dor Dor we-Dorshaw, vol. 3, p. 144 n. 2, who opposed this). On p. 103 Neusner relates directly to this narrative, and merely wonders of which of the two it speaks; see also Beer, Babylonian Exilarchate, pp. 65–73. On the identification of Mar Ukba as the repentant Nathan deZuzita, see BT Sanhedrin 31b; Yassif, Hebrew Folktale, p. 494 n. 73. 10 The poor man. 11 That is, since he was late, his wife came to the study hall, and on their way home they passed by the mendicant’s door so that Mar Ukba could leave his usual donation. See Herschler, Ketubot, vol. 2, p. 126, n. 85. 12 The pauper saw Mar Ukba and his wife. 13 The Aramaic “metzalei” means leaning, bowing (Nathan ben Jehiel. Arukh haShalem, vol. 7, pp. 16–17), but I believe that here, too, we have also a wordplay that alludes to the Hebrew tzel (shadow). See below in this chapter, after n. 59. 14 On the oven in the time of the Amoraim, see Krauss, Kadmoniyyot, II/1, pp. 135–46 (see Krauss, Talmudische, vol. 1, pp. 87–90, in the original German version); on the work of sweeping it, see p. 15. See also Fuchs, “One Who Sells,” for the reality of ovens in the Land of Israel and Babylonia in the Talmudic period; his pp. 56–57 nn. 17–18 are especially relevant for the matter at hand.

The Text of the Narrative

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10. His wife said to him: “Raise your feet and put them on mine.”15 [He]16 was depressed [literally, his mind became weak]. His wife said to him:17 “I am usually at home and the benefit from me is more at hand.”18 This narrative is followed by a Stammaitic19 addition: “What was the reason for all that?20 Because Mar Zutra bar Tobiah said in the name of 15 Since my feet are not burning. The portrayal in BT Shabbat 109b (of the healing process of a sick person treated by the mother of R. Ahadboi bar Ammi) teaches that a brick must be placed in a swept oven on which the patient sits, to prevent his being burnt. 16 Mar Ukba, who was insulted by his wife’s being regarded by God as more righteous than he, since a miracle was performed only for her; and this was not all: he had to rely on her and on the miracle performed for her in order to be saved. 17 To mollify him. 18 That is, the poor find me very easily, since I am at home; and their benefit from my gifts is greater, because I give them prepared food, while you give them money, and they must then trouble themselves to buy and cook the food. It is only because of this – and not because your deeds are not as desirable as mine – that a miracle was performed for me and not for you. See Rashi ad loc. (this reasoning, that women’s charity is preferable, also appears in BT Taanit 23b). 19 It should be noted, as regards the Stammaitic stratum in the Talmud, that many scholars assign it a late dating, and maintain that it cannot be deemed Amoraitic (and therefore cannot be considered to be an original Talmudic text). For a detailed description, see Halivni, Sources and Traditions, Moed, pp. 1–12; Halivni, Sources and Traditions, Bava Kamma, pp. 7–21; Halivni, “Amoraitic and Stammaitic” (where, on p. 151, he commented on the problems raised by these additions to the original text); Friedman, Ishah Rabah, “Introduction,” pp. 283–321; Friedman, Talmud Arukh, “Perek ha-Sokher,” p. 22; Cohen, Ravina, pp. 72–73 n. 36. These complicated discussions, that have been ongoing for several generations of scholarly research, can be summed up as follows: Halivni (in his study of the Order of Moed), retracted his first opinion, and finally assumed that the Stammaitic period began after the death of R. Ashi, and ended upon the beginning of the Savoraitic period, that is, 427–501 CE (in contrast with Abraham Weiss, Halivni maintains that the Talmud was not redacted stratum by stratum, but that the entire work of redaction was Stammaitic. On Weiss’s view, see Feldblum, “Abraham Weiss”). Kalmin, Redaction, disagrees with Halivni, and believes that the redaction of the Talmud is Savoraitic; on the entire issue, see Kalmin’s survey, pp. 1–11; and those by Washofsky, “Study of Talmud”; Valler, “Talmud Research.” In this case, the passage apparently was copied and moved to our text in Ketubot from another place in the Babylonian Talmud, where it was incorporated in a more natural manner (see BT Berakhot 43b; Sotah 10b; Bava Metzia 59a). Friedman, Ishah Rabah, p. 285, writes that “many of [such additions] are similar or identical to the regular style of the Stammaitic Talmud everywhere, that are interpretations of the Amoraitic teachings, or a discussion of question and resolution.” This

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Rab – others say, R. Huna bar Bizna said in the name of R. Simeon the Pious, and yet others say, R. Johanan said in the name of R. Simeon ben Yohai: It is better for a person to cast himself into a fiery furnace than to publicly shame his fellow. Whence do we derive this?21 From Tamar, as it is written: ‘As she was being brought out’ [Gen. 38:25].”22

The Reading of the Narrative From a genre perspective, if it were not for the profound religious element on which the narrative is founded, it could – erroneously – be seen as a miniature mystery. It contains all the main features of a detective story, written small:23 Mar Ukba’s constant “sneaking” to the door-socket; the pauper’s waiting in “ambush”; the “chase” through the city streets; and the strange “hideout” in which Mar Ukba and his

20 21

22

23

obviously should also be applied to the aggadic part of the Talmud. Jeffrey Rubenstein is one of the scholars who indeed applied this distinction to parts of the aggadah. See, e.g., Rubenstein, Talmudic Stories, pp. 125–26, and additional passages in his book, following the entry “Stammaim/Stammaitic” on p. 424. See also Albeck, Introduction, p. 508, who wrote on another matter, that is very close to ours: “It is the way of the Talmud to cite a dictum of an Amora along with its reasoning, while, actually, the reasoning is not from that Amora’s words, but from another Amora or an unattributed teaching; it is possible that this was not the intent of the Amora himself.” Weinberg, Studies, pp. 18–19, wrote on precisely this question: “In several places in the Talmud the Stammaim or the Savoraim added their own explanations to the wording of a baraita [external mishnah] or that of an Amora […] even […] things that seem to contradict the dictum by the Amora itself” (see also Friedman, Ishah Rabah, p. 288). On the saying “it is better for a person …,” see Bacher, Aggadot haTannaim, II/1, p. 54 n. 3 (Hebrew). Why did Mar Ukba make such an effort to flee from the mendicant and jump into the oven? Whence do we learn this principle? On halbanat panim (publicly shaming) and its perception in the late halakhah, see Talmudic Encyclopedia, vol. 9, cols. 207–14. On the question of why the Rabbis called the act of shaming halbanat panim (literally, causing a person’s face to turn white), when this act usually causes the shamed individual’s face to turn red, see the discussion in BT Bava Metzia 58b; and the survey in Talmudic Encyclopedia, vol. 9, cols. 207–8. On the motif in the Rabbinic literature of casting into a fiery furnace, see Ginzberg, Legends of the Jews, vol. 1, pp. 198–203 and the notes: vol. 5, pp. 212–15 nn. 28–40; Shin’an, Targum and Aggadah, p. 141 n. 208; on the development of this motif in the late Jewish literature, see Nigal, Magic, p. 281 n. 32. The article by Idan Zivoni, “Detective Novel,” is of interest in this context, for drawing scholarly attention to the profound religious elements of the modern detective story.

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wife find themselves as they cunningly lead astray the poor man who pursues them – and who probably continued to run through the streets confused, until he realized that the mysterious couple had hidden from him. The story is composed of three short acts: the first describes Mar Ukba’s daily practice, and tells of the pauper’s stratagem; the second presents the couple’s strange encounter with the pauper and the ensuing pursuit; and the third captures the wonderful picture in the furnace, in which God intervenes and indirectly reveals His opinion regarding the actions of Mar Ukba and those of his wife – and concludes with the couple’s individual responses to the surprising revelation. All the sections of the story are built on a single striking fact: Mar Ukba’s dedication to the value known as “giving in secret” (matan ba-seter) I believe, however, that the narrator’s main interest is not to fashion a hagiography and tell the praises of a sage who took such care to maintain this extremely important value, as we might understand from an initial reading of the narrative. To the contrary, it appears that the narrator seeks to illuminate in an ironical light the sages who are so concerned with important values, but whose personal spiritual lives are not consistent with those values. In other words, I see the narrative as a parody of a sage who has pretensions of being righteous in his deeds, but whose blindness for others leads him to act improperly. Instead of the realization that “one good deed leads to another,” we have an error that brings others in its wake. The force of the irony in the narrative is brought home to the reader by the fact that Mar Ukba is so concerned to observe the value of giving in secret that he forgets why it was so emphasized by the Rabbis: to prevent the indigent recipient from being shamed.24 This nar24 The Rabbinic literature repeatedly emphasizes that the obligation of charity is not to be regarded as a technical action divorced from the encounter with the psychological world of the poor person. The main emphasis in this commandment consists of restoring the poor person’s dignity. The Rabbis accordingly saw fit to declare (BT Sukkah 49b): “The reward of charity is entirely dependent on the extent of kindness in it.” It is related, in the name of R. Isaac (BT Bava Batra 9b), that “one who gives a perutah [a small coin] to a poor person receives six blessings, and one who addresses comforting words to him receives eleven blessings.” The extreme formulation of this thought appears in Hagigah 5a: “R. Yannai once saw a person give a zuz [a coin] to a poor person in public. He said to him: It would have been better if you had not given him, rather than your having given him now in public and putting him to shame” (similarly cited in Eccl. Rabbah 12:1:14). Following this, Maimonides later formulated

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rative, however, speaks of a pauper who undoubtedly is not ashamed of his poverty and acceptance of charity; to the contrary, he seems to greatly desire to meet his benefactor face-to-face, and is insulted specifically by Mar Ukba’s unwillingness to meet him.25 The narrator this principle with outstanding clarity, in Hil. Matnot Aniyim [Laws of Gifts to the Poor] 10:4–5: “One who gives charity to a poor person with a hostile countenance and with his face averted to the floor, even if he gives as much as a thousand gold coins, loses his merit and forfeits it. Rather, he should give him with a friendly countenance and joyfully, and he should commiserate with him in his distress […] He should speak to him supplicatory and comforting words, as it is said [Job 29:13]: ‘I gladdened the heart of the widow’ […] If a poor person asks you [for charity], and you have nothing to give him, comfort him with words. It is forbidden to rebuke a poor person or to raise one’s voice by shouting at him, because his heart is broken and crushed, and it says [Ps. 51: 19]: ‘God, You will not despise a contrite and crushed heart’; and it says [Isa. 57:15]: ‘reviving the spirits of the lowly, reviving the hearts of the contrite.’ Woe to the one who shames the poor! Woe to him! Rather, one should be to him as a father, with both compassion and words, as it is said [Job 29:16]: ‘I was a father to the needy.’” R. Joseph Caro writes in a similar spirit in Beit Yosef, Tur, Yoreh Deah 249:5. Ahronim (postmedieval authorities), as well, present this approach as well-known and self-understood. See, e.g., Kook, Daat Kohen, “On Yoreh Deah,” para. 132; Yosef, Yabia Omer, vol. 7, Hoshen Mishpat 7:5. See also Sperber, “Yoke of the Mitzvot,” p. 132 n. 8. In response to an instance that occurred in the fifteenth century, in which several members of the Treviso community in Italy wanted to arrange the giving of charity in their city in a manner that would lead to the recipients’ being shamed, R. Judah Minz wrote this strongly-worded responsum: “As regards communal conduct, Heaven forbid, to enact a regulation to shame the poor and denigrate him […] I cannot write at length, because there is no need for study, even for a complete ignoramus, and I am disgusted with my life from mentioning, being occupied, and discussing such claims” (Minz, She’eilot u-Teshuvot, para. 7. Interestingly enough, to prove his argument he then cites the story of Mar Ukba). The emphasis of the poor man’s face, that constantly recurs in the sources – whether ensuing from the demand to give charity in secret, so as not to “whiten his face,” or from the need to give with a smiling and encouraging countenance – will be a foundation stone in my reading of the narrative below. See also Romans 12:8: “he who does acts of mercy, with cheerfulness.” See also Muffs, Love and Joy, pp. 177–83. We should add that sociological research, as well, stresses the fact that, at times, giving charity in a manner that fixates their standing as a distressed stratum is one of the factors leading to conflicts between groups of different socioeconomic status. See Rubin et al., Social Conflict, pp. 128–30. 25 One of the Rishonim (medieval authorities) already wondered why the following Stammaitic Talmud passage saw the case of Mar Ukba as similar to what happened to the Biblical Tamar, when it could have been feared that she would shame Judah, while no such fear exists in this case. Ritba (R. Yom Tov ben Abraham Ishbili) comments concisely on this, in his novellae on Ketubot ad loc., s.v. “Hi Mutzet: “Although this case concerns shaming one’s fellow, this is

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highlights this fact by means of his description of the poor man’s efforts to meet his benefactor: his desire to meet the latter is so fierce that he lays in ambush for the anonymous donor, and has no qualms about later setting out in hot pursuit26 of him through the streets of the city. We are amused specifically by Mar Ukba’s excessive devotion to what proves to be worthless. His dedication to the “mission” is so ridiculous to the point that the fashioner of the story transforms him, the bountiful donor, into someone who flees for his life, and the pauper, who is “persecuted” (by his poverty), into the pursuer.27 Mar Ukba has not the so in the instance of Mar Ukba.” Ishbili skips over this difficulty, as if it lacked any special importance, dismissing it by writing: “At any rate, we learn [from the Mar Ukba narrative] that shaming is a very difficult matter.” Cf. ha-Meiri, Beit ha-Behirah, Ketubot ad loc.: “When he sensed one time that the poor man was following him, to know who was the giver, he fled from him, so he [the poor man] would not be embarrassed by him.” ha-Meiri says then, that Mar Ukba fled from the mendicant so as not to embarrass him, but this can hardly be accepted, since the narrative states expressly that the poor man chased after Mar Ukba, for the sole purpose of meeting him. The responsum by Minz, She’eilot u-Teshuvot, para. 7, indicates another solution. Incidental to his warning: “The generation should see how careful a person must be to avoid shaming any person,” he brings a proof from our narrative: “For the poor person was desirous of being shamed; nevertheless, he [Mar Ukba] fled and went into a dangerous place.” Minz apparently believed that our mendicant possessed masochistic tendencies and wanted to debase himself; nonetheless, despite his uncommon tendency, Mar Ukba and his wife were careful not to shame him. This solution, too, is unsatisfactory, for if this poor person was exceptional and derived special pleasure from his degradation, and was even willing for this pleasure to endure the trouble of the surveillance and pursuit, why didn’t the couple do this kindness for him? After all, the essence of kindness consists of being beneficent to the other (in this case, the poor man). Incidentally, the later addition to the Talmudic depiction that the poor man was “of good family,” or a rich man who had come down in the world, apparently sought to somewhat downplay the difficulty raised by our suggested reading, and to thereby explain why Mar Ukba insisted on not shaming him. On these late versions, see Herschler, Ketubot, vol. 2, p. 126 nn. 82, 87. 26 Here, too, we see the element of ma’akav (pursuit), on which we will expand our discussion below. 27 In n. 25, above, in this chapter, I first raised questions regarding the Stammaitic comment. In light, however, of the argument presented here the reader undoubtedly realizes that the Stammaitic observations on this narrative reveal a startling lack of comprehension of its harshly critical nature and its ironic attitude to scholars like Mar Ukba. The comparison between Mar Ukba and Tamar who, according to the midrash, preferred to be burnt at the stake rather than shame Judah is totally inappropriate, since Tamar acted (according to this midrash; cf. the discussion in Zakovitch-Shin’an, Judah and Tamar, pp. 160–69,

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upset the scales: his dedication to the value of giving charity in secret – to the extent that he jumps into the “flames” of the glowing furnace – is presented here as stubborn adherence to a religious principle in a manner that leaves it “swept” and void of all true content, when all that remains is its ceremonial and completely external aspect. The narrative, therefore, is about seeing and blindness. Mar Ukba is portrayed as someone with great religious desires, but whose spiritual blindness misleads him. Plato finely, and precisely, depicts what the Talmudic narrative perceives in Mar Ukba: and esp. sources 25[e] and 25[xiv]) with exceptional moral courage (a reading that, according to Nechama Leibowitz, is anchored in the literal meaning of the Biblical text; see Leibowitz, “Tamar’s Righteousness”); while Mar Ukba not only did not perform a brave deed, he exhibits total blindness regarding the poor man’s dignity and desires, and even endangers his wife with the possibility of being burnt, all out of this insensitivity to others. We may therefore reasonably assume that a later redactor, without justification, attached the Judah and Tamar episode to our narrative. On the phenomenon revealed here, of a later Talmudic stratum that incorrectly reads the original narrative, see also the comment by Frenkel, Aggadic Narrative, p. 29 n. 46 (see also what he writes concerning the aggadic critique of the Rabbis, and p. 365: “Every moral failure in Torah study originates in pride, for the scholar is proud of his knowledge and thinks that the Torah is his”). See further below, chap. 4, n. 6 and the references there. On Talmudic humor on various topics related to honors, see Lifshitz, Humour, pp. 137–54; and see Chapter 4, n. 6. Additionally, the early redactor of this narrative might possibly have misunderstood the story, as one in praise of Mar Ukba, since he included it within a series of traditions that tell the praises of this sage, especially in connection with the giving of charity. This fact misled the later commentators, who did not see that the tale’s simple meaning is the total opposite. For a reading of this story as testimony to Mar Ukba’s greatness, see Hyman, Toldoth, vol. 3, pp. 977–78; Margalioth, Encyclopedia, vol. 2, p. 650, writes: “He was renowned for his acts of righteousness and generosity. He would give charity to the poor in secret, so that the mendicant would not know from whom he received the charity and would not be embarrassed before him” (following Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hil. Matanot Aniyim 10:7–8); see also Margaliot, Flashes of Light, p. 120, who imagined that the four zuzim in our story correspond to the estimated value of the animal offered as a sin-offering. In the Kabbalistic literature, that draws on the Lurianic tradition of metempsychosis (torath ha-giglgulim), we find – in the wake of this mistake in understanding the spirit of the tale – the following statement: “Mar Ukba was from the spark of Judah, and his wife, from Tamar. Regarding Tamar it is written [Gen. 38:24]: ‘let her be burned,’ and just as the fire did not burn her, now, too, she fled so as not to embarrass a poor man. Understand the reason why the Talmud said, What was the reason for all that? Because Mar said: It is better [for a person to cast himself into a fiery furnace …]” (Fano, Gilgulei Neshamot, letter Mem, s.v. “Mar Ukba,” n. p.).

Why Was Mar Ukba Insulted?

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But the truth is that the cause of all sins in every case lies in the person’s excessive love of self. For the lover is blind in his view of the object loved, so that he is a bad judge of things just and good and noble.28

Mar Ukba’s blindness is salient at two points that are the very heart of the tale: his attitude to the poor man, which we have just explicated, but also as regards his disposition to his wife.

Why Was Mar Ukba Insulted? In the last act of the narrative, we are surprised to discover that Mar Ukba is so profoundly insulted by God’s “choosing” his wife and not him that “his mind grew weak.” What is the meaning of the affront taken by Mar Ukba? It must be seen on the background of the special tension in the infrastructure of the narrative between the masculine world and its feminine counterpart. Mar Ukba’s life ranges in the narrative between three domiciles: the study hall, the pauper’s house, and his own home. The Aramaic contains a wordplay, since the word deveithu, his wife, is the literal translation for “of his house.”29 There is a hidden division between the three apexes of the triangle: Mar Ukba’s spiritual activity is conducted in only two: in the study hall and at the pauper’s home; his own house (= his wife) reflects another aspect, that does not belong to this activity: the “house” and the wife are the place of material life (MotherMatter), and they have no part in the “purchasing” of his spiritual world. The attitude to the woman in this case is an accepting one, but for Mar Ukba she is only an (albeit necessary) bother. The wife represents the home and the “material” world, and is therefore regarded only as the necessary periphery of the important center, the life of the “spirit.”

28 Laws, 731:4–5 (LCL, vol. 1, pp. 338–39); see Halevi, World, pp. 42–43. 29 On a person’s wife as his “house,” see Levine Katz, “Eshet Hayil,” p. 31 and n. 89; the list of references of Lerner, Book of Ruth, parashah 3, pp. 18–19; Stahl, Family, p. 208 n. 10. On this idea in Philo, see Belkin, Midrash of Philo, p. 47; on parallels in Greek literature, see Halevi, Historical-Biographical, p. 535. Later esoteric teachings contain the concept that connects the Divine Presence with the “house,” which closely corresponds to the feminine element that is our concern. See, e.g., Tishby, Wisdom of the Zohar, vol. 1, p. 389; and the references in Margaliot, Sha’arei Zohar, on Gittin 52b (should be corrected there: 52a), p. 144.

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This “masculine” conception was cogently and explicitly formulated in Sefer ha-Hinukh, that was composed in Barcelona, apparently in the thirteenth-fourteenth centuries: […] since there is in the world of the Holy One, blessed is He, a creature composed of both physical matter and intelligence, namely man, it should be a fitting and necessary thing, in order that His praise should ascend well from His humans, that with this human creature no possibility [for perfection] which it is our power to grasp should be lacking from His world […] Now, there is no doubt that if not for this reason, that our intelligence was compelled to dwell within physical matter given to cravings and sins, our intelligence would have been fit to stand and minister before its Creator, and to recognize His glory, like one of the Divine angels that are ranged about Him. However, because of this ordained necessity, it was subjugated and constrained to live in physical “dwellings”; and having been subjugated to this, it is compelled in any event to turn aside from the service of its Creator at times and to exert effort for the needs of the “dwelling” [the body] in which it lodges. For the structure of a house – its timber, stones and foundations – will not endure without man giving it watchful care. Since it is so, inasmuch as the purpose set for man in his formation was what we have stated, at any time that his intelligence can lessen its service for the physical matter [of its body] and set its aim toward the service of its Maker, it is good for it then, provided it does not abandon the chores of the “dwelling” [its physical abode] completely and wreck it.30

This passage fittingly depicts Mar Ukba’s stance (one that, I argue, the author of our narrative completely rejects, and regards as an erroneous theological position). For Mar Ukba the “dwelling” is only a nuisance, and “if not for this reason, that our intelligence was compelled to dwell within physical matter given to cravings and sins, our intelligence would have been fit to stand and minister before its Creator, and to recognize His glory, like one of the Divine angels that are ranged about Him.” As a constraint, that is not to be opposed only because of “this ordained necessity” that is imposed by God, Mar Ukba strives to lessen, to the greatest extent possible, the “service for the physical matter” – and to perform the barest minimum, so as not to cause the “dwelling” to be “wrecked.”

30 Sefer ha-Hinukh, Commandment 374; trans.: pp. 44–47. The author chose to remain anonymous, and in later printings the book is attributed to R. Aaron ha-Levi of Barcelona. Ta-Shma revealed that the book’s actual author was R. Phinehas ha-Levi, the older brother and teacher of R. Aaron ha-Levi; see TaShma, “The Author.”

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In the study hall Mar Ukba concentrates on Torah study and on occasion remains there for extended periods.31 It seems that as time passes he develops in his imagination a sense of the greatness of his spiritual standing, because of his fixed practice of giving charity in secret; the more that this charity is clandestine, and concealed from people, he probably believes that his deed is held in higher esteem by God.32 He cannot conceive that God places his wife on a higher spiritual level than his, since she does not belong to two of the points of the triangle: she does not learn Torah in the study hall, nor does she give “charity in secret.” This appears to be the only possible explanation for Mar Ukba’s being so hurt: in the oven scene, God smashes the self-image of spiritual superiority that Mar Ukba had built with such great effort in his imagination. In this context, the reader is struck by the fact that Mar Ukba does not conceal from his wife his practice of giving money in secret to that poor man. Doesn’t this detract from the halakhic principle of concealing the gift, to which Mar Ukba so zealously adheres? The Talmudic commentaries by the Rishonim (early authorities) noted the difficulty that this raised, and responded that the wife’s knowledge does not harm the principle of concealment since – as this was formulated by the thirteenth-century Provence sage, R. Menahem ha-Meiri – Mar Ukba “took his wife with him because she is regarded as one with him, and the concealment of the gift was not canceled on her account.”33 If this analysis is correct, then it gives further force to Mar Ukba’s great affront; for he related to his wife as a sort of marginal appendix to his religious life, a secondary character possessing no spiritual importance of her own – and now God revealed to him in the oven scene that 31 On the greatness of Mar Ukba’s scholarship, see Beer, Exilarchate, p. 70 n. 50 (but the sources brought by Beer are relevant for our discussion only according to those who argue that they speak of the same individual; see above, n. 9 in this chapter). 32 On the great worth ascribed to giving in secret by the sources of Judaism, see HaCohen, “Giving in Secret”; Halevi, Amoraitic Aggadot, pp. 27–28; see also what the Sermon on the Mount says of this, Matt. 6:1–4 (and on the problems that this passage raises regarding the Pharisees and their attitude to giving in secret, see Montefiore, Rabbinic Literature, pp. 111–14; Lachs, Rabbinical Commentary, pp. 112–15). On giving in secret as an important Jewish value in later periods, see Bergmann, Charity, pp. 138–40. 33 Beit ha-Behirah on Ketubot 67b (this assumption is based on the Talmudic principle: “ishto ke-gufo,” i.e., a man’s wife is considered as part of his body; see, e.g., BT Berakhot 24a); see Herschler, Ketubot, vol. 2, p. 126 n. 86.

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it is she, specifically, the seemingly marginal character, who is of such worth, while his actions, that he himself regarded so highly, are inconsequential in comparison with those of his wife, which he had previously given no thought or appreciation.34 What do we, the readers, know about the inner world of the one called “his wife”? If we pay close attention to what is written between the lines in the narrative, we see that the narrator constructs the character of the wife as possessing qualities opposite to the “masculine” traits of her husband, in two central issues: in contrast with Mar Ukba’s blindness to the Other (the poor man) and to the latter’s true desires, the narrator characterizes her by her acts of giving to anyone;35 and, in contradiction to Mar Ukba’s high self-esteem, that causes him to regard himself so highly that he is insulted by God’s decision to prefer his wife to him – in the last scene of the narrative, she is presented as conducting herself with genuine modesty. She represents the true humility of one blessed with the trait of simplicity. She does not struggle for her place and standing, and yielding is the quality that typifies her actions, and that derives from her understanding of the other’s psyche and her unpretentious compassion for all around her. The story begins with the wife going out to meet Mar Ukba, who tarried in the study hall, in order to bring him home, probably out of the maternal concern she shows for him in the continuation of the tale. After this, we see how she is dragged along with him, without argument or complaint, on the trying path on which he leads her,36 until the perilous leap into the blazing oven. It is at this point that her trait of concession and compassion is revealed in all its force, when she offers her husband to put his scorched feet on hers. And finally, when she discerns his insult, she does not feel superior to him, but rather tries to console him and salve his wounded pride. These appeasing words, that attempt to calm her husband’s hurt feelings, express exceptional greatness of spirit, as they attest that, in light of the awesome miracle performed for her, she spends not a moment wondering or attempting to 34 As we said, his wife is his “house,” his “body” – the presumably material part of his life, that he regards as totally marginal. 35 On the general theological aspects of giving, see the discussions by Singer, Nature of Love, pp. 357–58, and the analysis of his writing by Bruemmer, Model, p. 138; see also pp. 127–39, on the definition of love that emerges from various aspects of Christian theology, and the emphasis of giving from inner abundance. See also Fromm, Art of Loving, pp. 26–27. 36 This walking, too, clearly contains an element of following; see below.

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assess its nature or dimensions. To the contrary: she immediately seeks to negate its importance and placate her husband, who was “burnt,” both in body and in soul, by the divine decision. Unlike her husband, Mar Ukba’s wife does not set out on weighty “charity campaigns,” nor does she singlemindedly go to the doors of the poor37 – but she feeds them from her cooking whenever they come to her door, hungry. In her good deeds she represents unadorned and natural compassion for the mendicant, and she does not regard her act of giving, that comes from the heart, as ordained from above or as a ritual. For her, this is something trivial, and she does not expect that, in consequence, she will be placed at the head of the study hall, or that she will be deemed a “great person,” for she does not perceive herself as someone “righteous” whose momentuous deeds are “hidden.” Consequently, she would not think to be insulted like her husband Mar Ukba if a miracle had not been performed for her within the oven. In her true humility she did not expect this at all, and therefore her entering the oven and her proposal to serve as her husband’s footstool were sincere self-sacrifice. In her simple and captivating humility she meets the poor who come to her open door face-to-face. She does not evade the encounter with them and turn her back on them, as does her husband;38 and in a similar manner she also engages her husband’s great distress, face-to-face, and attempts to mollify him. 37 We should also take into account the fact that according to the early halakhah in T Bava Kamma 11:6 (ed. Lieberman, p. 59), “Charity collectors take from them [i.e., from women who wish to give charity, or from small children] something minor [= small sums of money], but not much”; see also BT Bava Kamma 119a. Accordingly, even if a woman is desirous of embarking on a charity campaign, she can realize this wish only partially, since, fundamentally, the husband has power over the purse strings. At this point in our discussion, we should stress the dramatic context of Mar Ukba’s “charity campaigns,” in contrast with the simplicity of his wife’s deeds. See the Introduction, section 9, above. 38 Mention should also be made of the central position occupied in the narrative by the “heel”-“face” opposites axis, as will be explained below, and not “back” (in the original Biblical Hebrew: oref, i.e., neck)-“face.” The word “back” has the negative connotation of stubbornness, and also bears the association of sin, already in the Bible (see, e.g., Jer. 2;27: “While to Me they turned their backs and not their faces”), while our narrative does not speak of sins and transgressions. The heel, incidentally, represents, on the one hand, the directing of Mar Ukba’s heels, who turned to flee from the mendicant, and, on the other, the manifest miracle performed with the hidden heels of his wife, who concealed herself as a “heel” and acted as a heel that is trampled on for her husband’s feet (see below).

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This women is therefore depicted through the entire tale – in the so economical way of the Talmudic narrative – as a balanced and mature character who is open to the her fellow’s suffering. Her humble and attentive behavior casts an ironic light on Mar Ukba, who seemingly focuses on the act of making himself “small,” but innerly, as our above analysis shows, is totally occupied with fashioning his self-image as an exalted personage. This image veils his gaze and shuts his heart to his fellow’s inner world. Thus, the narrative is an ironic presentation of the errors caused by Mar Ukba’s blindness, that is evident in his attitude to the pauper and the latter’s needs, and in his attitude to his wife.39 Mar Ukba does not perceive the dimensions of his faithful escort’s humility during the entire racetrack of his life. This myopia is responsible for his being so thoroughly affronted by God’s viewing his wife as being on a higher level than he, and the fact that his own extraordinary “spiritual qualities,” and the great “self-sacrifice” he exhibited when he jumped into the oven, make no impression on Him.40 We should also note that both males in the narrative are occupied with being insulted – and they construct complex systems of justification for their conduct around these feelings – while the only character who rises above this (emotional!) occupation is the woman, Mar Ukba’s wife.

39 This radical element in the narrative will become even more evident after a comparison with many folkloristic tales that contain the simplistic element of “a miracle as reward for performance of a commandment.” See the list of sources in Noy, Tunis, p. 224 n. 1. These tales strikingly contrast our Talmudic narrative, that withholds the miracle, specifically from the one who was so occupied with the fulfillment of interpersonal commandments. 40 Interestingly, the late version of the narrative in Ma’aseh Book (ed. Gaster, vol. 1, p. 156) describes Mar Ukba’s reaction as anger (against whom? Obviously, against God!) – an emotion that is even stronger and aggressive than affront. By the way, we can now, with tongue in cheek, agree with the Stammaitic claim that the jumping into the oven was for the purpose of avoiding shaming another; but, in diametric opposition to that comment – that seeks to aggrandize Mar Ukba – it is Mar Ukba’s wife who jumps into the oven, so as not to shame her husband. Alternatively, the Stammaitic passage might be seen as containing an ironic message, that presents Mar Ukba as imagining that he was one of the Biblical heroes who cast himself into a fiery furnace, in which case this would only be a sarcastic addition; this possibility, however, seems remote.

The Leitmotiv of the Heel

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The Leitmotiv of the Heel This miniature tale is sparing with names. We have four characters, only one of whom is mentioned by name, Mar Ukba. His wife and the pauper, around whom the drama unfolds, remain nameless, and God is only hinted at by His actions. Why, then, is this character’s name given? I will attempt to explain this in light of the ideas I raised in the Introduction, and in light of the ironic reading of the narrative proposed above. In my opinion, the leitmotiv, the underlying idea that links all the scenes, is the linguistic-pictorial associations connected with the heel (akev) and the Hebrew derivatives from this term. The name of the sage on whom the narrative appears to focus is Mar Ukba;41 his wife goes to the study hall in his footsteps (be-ikvotav), and is dragged from there, be-ikvotav, through the city streets; the pauper follows (okev) the couple;42 and the entire last act concentrates on Mar Ukba’s burnt heels (akev), and those of his wife, who are miraculously saved and, even more significantly, can miraculously keep Mar Ukba’s heels from burning.43 Most importantly, by means of the “heel test,” God ex41 I maintain that the narrative is a sort of etymological exegesis, in which the name of the hero – Ukva, with which the tale opens, plays a central role, and the associations derived from it are cardinal to our understanding of the chain of events. (Unfortunately, the role played by this name is less evident in the transliteration: Ukba, employed in the standard Talmud translation and the academic discourse, in contrast with the traditional pronunciation: Ukva.) For a similar literary argument, on an etymology in a chapter of Psalms built around the name “Solomon,” see Zakovitch, “Humble,” pp. 14–15; see also Katz and Rosenson, “Fig Tree,” p. 169 n. 12. 42 “Okev” already appears in the Bible with this meaning (see the discussion by Malul, “Aqeb,” and esp. pp. 211–12, that this verb, with the meaning “to follow,” is already present in the Bible; see also Malul’s discussion of akev in the Bible with the meaning of “heel” and with the meanings: “to supplant,” “to cheat,” “to protect”). Moshe Weinfeld and Ran Zadok note in their interpretation of the verse (Gen. 25:26) “so they named him Jacob” that “the Hebrew root bqi , that is the basis of the name Yaakov, means following someone” (see Weinfeld and Zadok, Genesis, p. 165); and this root, with the sense of following someone, is evidently common in Rabbinic language; see Nathan ben Jehiel, Arukh ha-Shalem, vol. 6, pp. 243–44, s.v. “bqi ” (1). It is also noteworthy that Malul believes that the Biblical “Akev” has a sexual innuendo, too; see Malul, “Aqeb,” p. 191 and n. 6, and his discussion of Smith, “‘Heel’ and ‘Thigh,’” pp. 196–97. 43 Obviously, the counterargument could be raised that, apart from the name “Mar Ukba,” there are no explicit references to “following” or “heels.” My analysis, however, is not based on the explicit appearance of these words, but rather relates to the artistic use of the story in pictorial-linguistic associations.

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presses His preference, as in an ancient trial by ordeal. The entire narrative is concerned with a concealed place and subject, just as God is concealed, as humility is unseen, as the “heart” is hidden, and as true giving (in secret) is concealed. And, as such, the hidden heel is the center of the story – for, superficially, no one sees the heel, the hidden limb. We therefore have here the intimate, hidden from sight, contact between God and the characters of the narrative. In this respect, the heel is presented as the opposite of the face (in yet another associative Hebrew word series based on the word panim, face) that is visible to all, and by means of which man’s inner (penimi) world is expressed.44 Without mentioning the term “face,” the narrative uses this contrast, as a subterranean flow that seeps into the explicit text: seemingly, all of Mar Ukba’s efforts and exertions are to avoid publicly embarrassing (le-halbin et panav) that poor man. Accordingly, Mar Ukba expects that the divine revelation will be directed (yifneh) to him, while, instead, God is kind to (me’ir panim) his wife; the insult intensifies when God’s manifold revelation (gilui panim) to his wife enables her to save him, as well. Additionally, Mar Ukba devotes all his energy to flight from the face-to-face (panim-el-panim) encounter with the pauper. He runs in the city streets, turning his heel and back to the poor man45 – and this fact is set opposite the other, explicitly stated, fact: that Mar Ukba’s wife would meet the poor face-to-face. Her “turning her face” in order to look in the eyes of the Other is precisely the Buberian “I-Thou” relationship (as distinct from the “I-It” relationship), in which space is humbly made for the other, who is seen as a subject, and not as a vessel for our use. Mar Ukba’s turning his heels, in contrast, vividly illustrates his functional attitude to the pauper, as a means to gain points in the performance of the commandments.46 The guiding principle of this associative manner (that albeit has its basis in language) is not logical-syntactical, but pictographic; and I argue (continuing the premises of Maren Niehoff on this point) that it exerts great weight in the Rabbinic corpus; see the extensive discussion: Niehoff, “Associative Thinking,” esp. p. 443, on the “verbal-plastic description” mechanism, and on the “Pictographic writing” of the dream mentioned in her n. 1. 44 See Muffs, Love and Joy, pp. 124; 146–47. 45 As God turns His back to Mar Ukba in the continuation. 46 I expanded on the distinction between the two relationship types in the Introduction, above. The essence of Buber’s dialogic philosophy is expressed, with the characteristic simplicity of Rabbinic language, in the wording “showing one’s face.” See Lieberman, Tosefta Kifeshuta, Zeraim, vol. 1, p. 18; see also the

On the Feminine and Masculine Associations in the Narrative

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On the Feminine and Masculine Associations in the Narrative The “heel” leitmotiv discussed above has a clearly feminine association in the Talmudic sources. For example, in BT Nedarim 20a: “Whoever gazes at a woman will eventually come to sin, and whoever looks even at a woman’s heel will beget degenerate children.”47 R. Simeon ben Lakish comments on this: “The ‘heel’ that is stated means the unclean part [that is, the gaze mentioned here is not at the heel, but at the woman’s vagina, which is euphemistically called “heel” here],48 which is directly opposite the heel [for when a woman kneels, her vagina touches her heel].”49 To these hidden contexts of the akev-panim wordplay we should add the immediate association that emerges from the reading of the seemingly marginal detail in the narrative, of the “door-socket” (tzinora [also, pipe] de-dasha) into which Mar Ukba would place his coins every day. This dasha sound associatively (presumably with no etymological basis) recalls “the wording of beating and knocking […] dush, dishah,”50 which immediately raises the associative connection

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comment by Sokoloff, Geniza Fragments, p. 107 on l. 7. On the modern evolution of this ancient notion, as a central topic in the thought of Emmanuel Levinas, see: Levinas, Ethics and Infinity, pp. 83–92; see also the notes with specific references by the translator, Daniel Epstein: Levinas, Tesha Kriot, p. 259 and n. 4; Levinas, Kriot Hadashot, p. 143, n. 27. This is also cited in the name of R. Aha bar R. Josiah, but the accompanying interpretation indicates that this is a baraita (external mishnah). And in Geonic language: the place of the toref (= pudenda); see Lewin, Otzar ha-Geonim, vol. 11, Nedarim, “Interpretations” section, p. 79. The simple meaning of M Niddah 8:1 indicates a clear connection between the heel and the vagina; and BT Niddah 58a explains that when the woman sits on the ground, the place of the vagina touches the heel. See the explanation by Brandes, Practical Aggada, p. 211 n. 71. On the identification of the heel with the vagina, see Eilberg-Schwartz, “Woman’s Voice,” p. 181 n. 1; Satlow, Tasting the Dish, p. 308 n. 177 (Satlow’s allusion to BT Nazir 55a seems inappropriate); see also Nacht, Der Fuss, p. 20 n. 1. On the associative link between the heel and sexuality, see also Nathan ben Jehiel, Arukh ha-Shalem, vol. 6, p. 244, s.v. “bqi ” (1), the commentary on BT Shevuot 47b. The opinion of Krauss, Kadmoniyyot, 1/2, p. 354 (see Krauss, Talmudische, vol. 1, p. 337 n. 487, in the original German version). See Rashi on BT Ketubot ad loc., s.v. “Tzinora de-Dasha,” who explains: “the hole in the threshold in which the hinge of the door turns.” Prof. Aaron Demsky commented on this that, in etymological terms, we should prefer the view of Kutscher, Words, p. 25, who derives dasha from the Akkadian, without connection to the root >vd . Since, however, we are concerned with the sounds of the language and the narrator’s literary fashioning, and not with the linguistic question per se, it

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between “heel” and dasha (threshing, as an allusion to the sexual act), as in the famous Talmudic expression: “Commandments that a person treads [dash] with his heel.”51 The pipe and the hole accordingly arouse distinct masculine and feminine associations, respectively. In this context, of the feminine association given to the parts that are tread upon in the house’s entryway, mention should be made of “derusat ish” (literally, “trampled of man”) – an ancient appellation for a nonvirgin, that already appears in the Mishnah.52 Another passage in the Talmud explicitly uses the wording dasha as an appellation for the female sexual organ,53 and a late midrash contains a completely direct linguistic usage, that terms the woman “the threshold of the house.”54

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seems obvious that in terms of its sound, dasha is associatively connected with the place that is treaded (dashim otho), and at least from this respect we can accept Krauss’s determination. This expression, that is so well-known in this syntactical form, appears only a single time, in BT Avodah Zarah 18a, in the dictum by Resh Lakish: “What is the meaning of the verse (Ps. 49:6) ‘The iniquity of my heel encompasses me’? The sins that one treads with his heels in this world encompass him on the day of judgment.” (Incidentally, this Talmudic association intriguingly draws a connection between the statement by Resh Lakish and a tradition attributed to R. Johanan concerning the daughter of R. Hanina ben Teradion, who was punished by “being placed in a brothel” because once “his daughter was walking in front of some great men of Rome, who exclaimed, ‘How beautiful are the steps of this maiden!’ She immediately took care how she walked.” This association, with no need for explanation, directly links the heel as an allusion to the woman and her sexuality with “treading with the heel,” and attests to the importance of the small details in a person’s life, since Hanina ben Teradion’s daughter was punished by being sent to a brothel only because there was something in her walk that caused those important Romans – who looked at her from behind – to engage in sexual thoughts.) Despite its sole appearance, this version of the expression is widespread, apparently due to Rashi’s use of this exposition in his commentary to the Torah (Deut. 7:12). In the early Land of Israel sources, the expression “to trod with the heel” apparently does not refer to any specific commandment, but to the general disparagement of the Torah’s values and the worship of the Lord. This, e.g., in Lev. Rabbah 27:8 (ed. Margulies, p. 642), in the teaching by R. Judah bar Simon: “‘An ox knows its owner, an ass its master’s crib; Israel does not know’ (Isa. 1:3) – did they not know? rather, they trod with the heel.” M Ketubot 1.7. See Nacht, Der Fuss, p. 20 n. 1. BT Berakhot 56a relates that Rava saw in a dream that the “outer door [dasha barraita]” of his house had fallen, and Bar Hedya explained his dream as meaning that his wife would die. “Ve-akarta le-dasha” (“you tore away the door” – BT Ketubot 10a). See Pirkei de-Rabbi Eliezer 30, 68a; see also the commentary by R. David Luria ad loc. 54 (we have no need of Luria’s suggested apologetical explanation, and the expression is to be understood literally, as I show here). This tale and this motif also appear in Islam; see Schussman, “Abraham’s Visits.”

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This feminine imagery – that joins the central feminine symbol in the narrative, that of the oven as “womb”55 – hints that the “door” of the pauper’s house, with which the tale begins, is a “feminine” image, as well.56 The appellations given in later generations to tzinora de-dasha and its components, too, teach of its perception as a feminine element. Krauss, for example, explains that this tzinora de-dasha is built in the 55 The oven here is a central symbol that expresses the doubt “cooking” in the hidden depths (a sort of “womb”), that finally emerges into the light of day and is resolved by means of the divine revelation. On the oven as a feminine symbol, see Dubois, Sowing, pp. 110–29; Stern, Violence, pp. 120–21. On the womb in religious and spiritual contexts in different cultures, see Chevalier and Gheerbrant, Dictionary, pp. 1122–23; Walker, Woman’s Dictionary, pp. 1091–92, and see there also on “womb-temples.” For a discussion of other Talmudic narratives containing the motif of entering an oven, see Hevrony, “Arrow,” pp. 203–8. On additional instances of sages who entered ovens, see Mack, “Men Who Were Seduced,” p. 443 n. 22. 56 On “petah [door; literally, opening]” as a common appellation in the Rabbinic literature for a woman’s private parts, see Nathan ben Jehiel, Arukh ha-Shalem, vol. 6, p. 463, s.v. “xtp ”: “and used metaphorically for that place of a woman.” Semantic transferal similar to that of “petah” also occurs with the word “delet” (door), and in the Bible it already was used as an appellation for the labia, as in Job 3:10: “Because it did not shut up the doors [daltei] of my [mother’s] womb” (see Baumann, “Delet,” p. 233; Clines, Job, p. 88). And similarly in the Rabbinic literature: see, e.g., T Sotah 5:9 (p. 179): “R. Meir would say, Just as there are [different] tastes in regard to food, so there are [different] tastes regarding women […] You can find a man in whose cup a fly lights, and he will throw it out and not drink it, such as Pappos ben Judah, who would lock his door to keep his wife inside when he went out”; and in Lev. Rabbah 2:1 (ed. Margulies, p. 36): “Rabbi says: The women of the wilderness generation were chaste; when they heard that they were forbidden to their husbands, they immediately locked their doors.” See also Nacht, Symbolism of Woman, pp. 94–95, s.v. “Delet”; and p. 174. This identification is also to be found in Greco-Roman culture; see Adams, Sexual Vocabulary, p. 89 (Walker, Woman’s Dictionary, pp. 136–37, mentioned this identification only as Hebrew-Biblical). On the Divine Presence as a Kabbalistic vaginal image, see Abrams, Female Body, p. 47 and n. 50. The word “askupah” (sill, threshold), like dasha, is used metaphorically as an appellation for treading and crushing. See Krauss, Kadmoniyyot, 1/2, pp. 350–51 (cf. Krauss, Talmudische, vol. 1, pp. 38, 336–37 n. 484, in the original German version), who observes that “an askupah is dirty and filthy from people’s feet,” and therefore represents anyone disparaged by others, and is not afforded any importance. See, e.g., Avot de-Rabbi Nathan, version A, chap. 26, p. 83: “R. Eliezer ha-Kappar says: Do not be as an upper lintel, that people cannot touch; nor as an upper askupah, that swallows countenances; nor as a middle askupah, that strikes the feet; rather be as a lower askupah, that everyone treads on, but remains in the end, when the entire building is torn down”; cf. the sources collected by Nacht, Symbolism of Woman, p. 40, s.v. “Askupah.”

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following manner: “A chamber, which is the tzinor, is made in the lower door-sill [askupah] and in the bottom of the lintel […] and it receives the kos,57 which is the socket [potah],58 that is of metal […] and in 57 The “kos” is the Geonic appellation for the socket, which is the hole in which the door hinge fits. See Krauss, Kadmoniyyot, 1/2, p. 357 n. 2 (see Krauss, Talmudische, vol. 1, p. 338 n. 494, in the original German version); and below, the following n. On the kos as a feminine symbol, see Nacht, Symbolism of Woman, pp. 127–28. On kos as an appellation for a woman’s private parts, see what the paytan (author of religious poetry) puts in the mouth of Potiphar’s wife: “How many times / did I wash the kos [also: cup] / he [= Joseph] thirsted to drink/ but not want to drink” (Yahalom and Sokoloff, Jewish Palestinian Aramaic Poetry, pp. 136–37). The appellation “na’al [literally, shoe]” for this kos, that is mentioned by Krauss, Kadmoniyyot, loc. cit., is replete with feminine associations. Cf. Nacht, Symbolism of Woman, pp. 166–67; Walker, Woman’s Dictionary, pp. 154–55; Schultze-Gallera, Fuss, pp. 42–67; Sartori, “Der Schuh” (on the shoe as a symbol of fertility). Cf. also below, n. 64 in this chapter. 58 The potah as an appellation for the hole in which a door revolves (the majority view of the commentators) already appears in I Kings 7:50: “and the hinge sockets [ve-ha-pothoth] for the doors of the innermost part of the House”; and in M Kelim 11:1; see the commentary by Chanokh Albeck ad loc., following the Geonic interpretation. In Nathan ben Jehiel, Arukh ha-Shalem, vol. 6, p.461, “potah” is a hole or groove. It apparently began to be used as an appellation for the female’s private parts only later, in modern Hebrew, due to the female associations on which we relied here. Even-Shoshan, Dictionary, vol. 2, p. 1111, is of the opinion that “poth” as an appellation for female private parts already appears in Isa. 3:17: “My Lord will bare the pates of the daughters of Zion, the Lord will uncover their secret parts [pothhen],” but it seems that the exegesis in BT Shabbat 62b on which Even-Shoshan bases this determination cannot attest to this. The exegesis interprets the verse as follows: “‘The Lord will uncover [ye’areh] their secret parts’ – Rab and Samuel: one said, This means they were poured out like a cruse, and the other said: Their openings became like a forest [ya’ar].” Rashi ad loc. explains: “‘Pothhen’ – like pitheihen [their entrances]” (see also Lev. Rabbah, 16:1, ed. Margulies, p. 345, and the parallels indicated by Margulies). Possibly, however, the Talmudic source did not mean to say that the female privates were so called in Biblical times, but rather homiletically suggests this. See also the comment by N. H. Torczyner (Tur-Sinai) in Ben-Yehudah, Thesaurus, vol. 11, p. 5300 n. 6. Notwithstanding this, some medieval grammarians accepted this as the literal meaning, and believed that poth was an appellation for the feminine privates. Thus, Ibn Ezra on Isa. 3:17: “I find it correct that it is derived from [I Kings 7:50] ‘and the hinge sockets [ve-ha-pothoth] [for the doors of the innermost part of the House],’ and is an allusion to their rear”; see also the commentary of Gersonides to this verse in I Kings, that the potot are “what the door hinge enters” (unlike Rashi, R. David Kimhi, and R. Joseph Kara, who understood this word as referring to keys [maftehot]; these two interpretations are reflected in different versions of Pseudo-Jonathan: “maglasiya” is a bolt, while the other version maintains that “kalya” is a vessel, a sort of jug or cup; see Sperber, Bible in Aramaic, p. 231 [my thanks to Dr. Tzemah Keisar, with whom I consulted on this last point]).

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it the hinge is inserted, this foot of the door.” The “socket,” Krauss explains, is a sort of pocket into which the door hinge is placed, and in which it revolves. This feminine “heel,” which, as we have seen, is trod on, and the “kos,” “socket,” or “door-post,” into which Mar Ukba’s coins were given in secret, play a fascinating literary role: both are the venue of treading. In other words, for Mar Ukba, both the pauper and the sage’s wife are objects for the development of his image of superiority and (religious) importance – and this superiority contains a patently masculine element.59 Admittedly, the poor man of the narrative, unlike Mar Ukba’s wife, surprisingly rebels against the inferiority that Mar Ukba ascribes to him and refuses to accept his forced and passive “concealment” behind the door and his patron’s “turning his back” to him. In contrast with the wife, he is not willing to remain in the category of “heel,” and is not satisfied with the shadow his benefactor leaves on the door, but categorically demands to stand in front of him, face-to-face. The mendicant is unquestionably hurt and insulted by his benefactor’s unwillingness to meet him as one human being to another, and insistence on seeing him as a “poor man,” with the resulting pursuit-ambush between the two men.

59 The title “Mar” preceding his name, too, expressed lordship and authority; see Beer, Exilarchate, p. 10 and Appendix A, p. 187; see there the citation by R. Sherira Gaon that, specifically in Mar Ukba’s name, this addition is an appellation expressing importance (see also Friedman, “Talmudic Proverb,” pp. 53–54, on mar = owner). on the tradition that argues that the title “Mar” was awarded only to descendants from the Davidic line, see Margaliot, Names, p. 62 n. 23. The extent of Mar Ukba’s honor and authority was so well known that a sort of humorous phrase became entrenched in the language of the Amoraim: “to make [oneself] Mar Ukba.” See BT Shabbat 54b: R. Hisda said to him: If so, you made [yourself] Mar Ukba”: and see Rashi’s commentary ad loc. See Korman, Aggadah, pp. 267–69. In contrast with all this, the wording “akev” “was used metaphorically […] for the end and last” (Nathan ben Jehiel, Arukh ha-Shalem, vol. 6, p. 244, s.v. “bqi ” [1], in Kohut’s gloss), that is, for unimportance and the one who was at the bottom of the hierarchy. There is an intriguing resemblance between the stance of our narrator, who is so sharply critical of Mar Ukba for his arrogance, and what Ta-Shma, Ritual, p. 116, indicates concerning the attitude of the medieval Sefer Hasidim to sages who compose religious novellae: “In the opinion of Sefer Hasidim, being gifted with the ability to innovate in Torah scholarship and the characteristic of haughtiness and pride descended [i.e., came into being] inextricably intertwined.”

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In marked contrast, Mar Ukba’s wife wholeheartedly accepts the role of the trodden-on “heel,” specifically on account of her spiritual greatness, which, in the narrator’s opinion, exceeds that of her husband, and out of her great compassion for her husband,60 who is drawn to childish “hide and seek” games in the end of which he is “burnt” in his desperate pursuit of “seeing the face of God,” and is so bitterly disappointed. In this respect, Mar Ukba’s foolish attempts parallel those of the pauper, the second male character in the story, who, too, continues to willy-nilly pursue the fata morgana of his imagination, while the one whom he seeks to see is completely hidden from him in the depths of the oven.61 The tale accordingly seeks to teach us that such a pursuit is not the way to win true respect, and that only the individual who sets his arrogance and pride as a “trodden door-sill” before the Other, and meets him face-to-face, humbly, without pretensions, will in the end merit the face-to-face encounter with God,62 as happens to the nameless (and seemingly peripheral) woman in the tale, for whom a miracle is performed and to whom God is revealed.

60 On the connection between the “heel” and humility, see Cant. Rabbah 1:9: “R. Matana said, Just as wisdom made a crown for its head, humility made a sandal for its heel”; and similarly, Midrash Tannaim on Deuteronomy 23:15, p. 148 (as regards the version, see pp. 256, 261): “R. Isaac ben Eleazar said, Just as [wisdom] made [a crown for its head], humility [made] a heel (for selfaggrandizement) [for its sandal], [as it is said (Ps. 111:10),] ‘The beginning of wisdom is the fear of the Lord’; and it is written [Prov. 22:4], ‘The effect [in the original Hebrew: ekev, namely, “because of,” which sounds like akev = heel] of humility is fear of the Lord.’” The PT parallel (Shabbat 1:3, 3c) reads: “humility made a heel for its slipper [soliyasah].” See Lieberman, Ha-Yerushalmi Kiphshuto, p. 36, and the additional sources he lists (all the parallels make no mention of the “greatness” of humility, but of its “heel”). See also Azulai, Devash le-Fi, Ma’arekhet 70, para. 15, s.v. “bqi ,” p. 45: “Why did the School of Hillel merit to have the halakhah follow them? Because they were humble; this is the meaning of what is written [Deut. 7:12]: ‘And it shall come to pass, because [ekev; see above] you [do obey]’ – if you will be humble, ‘you will obey.’” On the centrality of the trait of humility and submission for understanding the Rabbinic thought in many aggadic narratives, see Kosman, “Paradox of Modesty”; Kosman, “Abba Umana.” On humility in a feminine and maternal context, see Ruddick, Maternal Thinking, pp. 72–73, and the Introduction, above. 61 We should again recall the familiar association of the oven as a feminine symbol; see above, n. 55 in this chapter. 62 This idea is succinctly expressed in the dictum of R. Eleazar ha-Kappar (above, n. 56 in this chapter).

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We will now turn to what is related in brief at the end of the narrative: there is no finer and nobler act of giving and kindness than this woman’s simple offer to her “burnt” husband, as she invites him, of her own free will, to “lift up his heel over her,”63 to “trample” her and tread on her feet.64 This invitation is itself an inner existential miracle of humility that enables Mar Ukba’s wife to be compassionate to her husband and also meet his childish needs head on, uncritically. The inner “miracle” that occurs in the soul of the one who is not “burnt” in the blaze of jealousy and the race after achievements also makes possible the external miracle. Moreover, the pureness of heart of the one for whom a miracle is performed enables him to include others in this miracle, and to effect rescue not only for himself, but also – as is the way of the truly concealed righteous – for the surrounding world.65 *** To sum up the theological message underlying this narrative, it is the feminine, passive, simple concept – the “heel” that is trod on by all, and that, in Mar Ukba’s perception is of marginal importance in relation to 63 Following Ps. 41:10. 64 Treading has been linked with mastery and government since antiquity. See Muffs, Love and Joy, pp. 118–19 n. 11. As for the motif in a later practice of treading on the woman’s feet as an expression of mastery, cf. the custom common in many Jewish communities in which the groom steps on the bride’s feet as a symbol of superiority. Thus, for example, Alfiyah, Masa Gey Hizayon, p. 100, writes: “It is efficacious for the groom to place his right foot on the bride’s left foot during the Seven Blessings [of the wedding ceremony]; this placing of the foot is efficacious for him ruling her all his days. She will be subservient to him and obedient”; see also Sofer, Yalkut Reuveni, vol. 1, p. 67, s.v. “Kol Middotav”; see the many sources collected by Stahl, Family, pp. 122–23, and on p. 111 reference to various sources indicating that this custom was widespread in many other countries, as well; see also Braslavi, “Eve,” p. 90 n. 1, and his reference to the practice of Afghanistan Jewry; see the interesting testimony by Solomon Maimon on his own wedding: Maimon, Autobiography, pp. 59–60. On the treading foot as a phallic symbol and metaphor for the male sexual organ, see Nacht, Der Fuss, pp. 34ff.; 50 nn. 1–3; and 51 n. 3 on the foot as a general symbol of physicality; on this, see also Malul, “Relation between,” p. 16 and n. 22. 65 On the concept of the hidden righteous one who saves the surrounding world, see Scholem, Explications and Implications, pp. 199–204; see also Liebes, “Messiah,” p. 120 n. 139; pp. 141–43 n. 211, and his references to relevant researches; see also Katz, “Number of Righteous.”

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the “masculine” word of Doing – that is truly esteemed by God, who judges the value of deeds by one’s innermost intent.66 The narrator compares two worlds: the “masculine” world of Torah scholars represented by Mar Ukba67 – the world of the study hall devotees, who are perceived by society, from its external perspective, as being the closest to God;68 and the “feminine” and not achievementoriented world represented by this scholar’s wife – a simple woman who does not even have a name of her own in the tale, who presumably is “secondary” to her husband and follows in his footsteps. We also see here the concealed tension between two types of interpretation of the central religious action in the narrative: giving in secret. What is the meaning of “in secret” (ba-seter)? Mar Ukba hides from the poor man, but the woman in this narrative lives her entire life in true concealment, because she does not develop a pretentious selfimage that sets her at the center of the reality, she rather places herself, in this sense, as a “heel”; while her husband’s inner life revolves around himself, and he sees himself as the center of reality, even when he performs a religious deed whose essence is the “secret.” God, who is both present and absent in the story, is revealed only to the one who is willing to be concealed like Him, and therefore the divine revelation comes from the heel, from what is not visible and does not assume importance in our consciousness. The elements revealed in my reading of this narrative also exist in many other Talmudic narratives,69 and raise a subversive component 66 On the tendency of the aggadic tale to emphasize the value of “the act that comes from the heart,” even above that of compliance with the law, and of the merit of the simple, but pure-hearted, person, see the extensive discussion by Kosman, “Obedience.” The heel-test in this narrative is therefore the test of the hidden part of a person’s personality, just as the heel is a hidden part (on the Biblical expression “akov ha-lev” [see Jer. 17:9, where akov means “tortuous,” but, again, sounds like akev, heel], as expressing the fact that the heart is the most hidden place, see Licht, “Lev, Levav,” pp. 412–13). 67 The pauper, as well, joins this world, as we explained above, but the criticism is directed mainly against Mar Ukba. 68 When the question arises of God’s desire, society regards them as authoritative, and turns to them to receive legal rulings or the answer to questions of the fashioning of its worldview; it obviously does not direct such queries to the woman-housewife, who is not thoroughly cognizant of the holy texts, but rather to her learned husband. As we learn here, those who come to the woman’s home are only the poor, who are in need of her meals. 69 See my articles that examine this: Kosman, “Obedience”; “Paradox of Modesty”; “Abba Umana.” See also the following chapters.

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that nests in its cultural field. We have here a very interesting phenomenon: the study hall sages (the males) are the composers and fashioners of the narrative, and it is they who related it to others,70 even though it transmits, in its entirety, a clearly antiestablishment, anarchistic message. Accordingly, the study hall itself unreservedly argues that the social hierarchy that it determined, and that grades on an imaginary scale all humans in terms of their closeness to God, is merely a social necessity, and in a profound religious sense is simply a fiction; for from the viewpoint of the religious truth, it is possible that the simple unlearned individual, who bears no official title, will likely be closer to God, even more so than the greatest of the sages.71 *** It is instructive that such a simple understanding, that cries out to the reader, was not formulated outright by any Talmud commentator. To the contrary, over the course of time, under the influence of the Stammaitic comment, Mar Ukba underwent a process of glorification, to the extent that his flight from the poor man is occasionally presented in the works of the Ahronim (postmedieval rabbinic authorities) as a shining example of sensitivity and special care taken against any hint of transgression, taken to the extreme of actual self-sacrifice. Thus, for example, in Biurei Zohar by R. Menahem Mendel of Shklov, a student of R. Elijah Gaon (the Vilna Gaon): one must completely flee from sin as did Mar Ukba, who fled to a fiery furnace so as not to embarrass a poor man […] the wisdom [that a person should possess] is to examine every thing, if it contains a positive commandment, to fly up, up, to Heaven, and likewise, if it entails a transgression, to flee to the other end out of the greatness of one’s fear [of God] and dread.72

I am convinced, however, that if the narrative had been read by women commentators, and not only men, its hidden message would have been clear and self-understood.

70 To the sages of the study hall, and at times also to a less sophisticated audience. On this so very old dispute, see the summation by Hirshman, “Forms and Methods.” 71 This might be so because only they, the inhabitants of the study hall, could speak of about those meritorious individuals who are located in such a simple place – beyond the “world of speech” – that they have no need to tell of it. 72 Menahem Mendel of Shklov, “Biurei ha-Zohar,” fol. 60; see also the sources referenced above, n. 27 in this chapter.

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Chapter Two Rabbi Akiva and the Daughter of Ben Kalba Savua: On the Conception of Love in the Spiritual World of the Talmudic Story “Come out,” he called, “and stand on the mountain before the Lord.” And lo, the Lord passed by. There was a great and mighty wind, splitting mountains and shattering rocks by the power of the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind – an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake – fire; but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire – a soft murmuring sound. (I Kings 19:11–12)

The Narrative of Akiva and His Mate, according to the Version of Ketubot 62b-63a1 The text: .hvh ivb> Xblk ]bd Xyir Xbyqi ’r .1 ,ylimv iynj hvhd hytrb hytyzx ?br hybl tlzX „l Xn>dqm yX :hyl hrmX .]yX :hl rmX .hytrd>v Xinjb hyl h>dqyX .5 .hycknm hXnh hrdXv hytybm hqpX hvbX im> .br ybb ]yn> yrc yrt byty lyzX .ydymlt yplX yrc yrt hydhb ytyyX XtX yk .tvyx tvnmlX trbdm Xq hmk di :hl rmXqd Xbc Xvhhl hyim> .ynyrxX yn> yrc yrt byty tyyj ydydl yX :hyl hrmX .10 .Xndybi Xq tv>rb :rmX .br ybb ynyrxX yn> yrc yrt bytyv lyzX rdh 1 For the textual variants, see Herschler, Ketubot, vol. 2, pp. 79–81. The few variants of importance for our discussion will be noted below.

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.ydymlt yplX hibrXv ,yr>i hydhb ytyyX XtX yk .hypXl Xqpn Xq tvh vhtybd him> .yXckyXv >vbl ynXm ylyX> :Xtbby> hl vrmX .15 (y ,by yl>m ) "vtmhb >pn qydj idvy " :vhl hrmX ,hyirkl hyl hq>nm Xq hpX li hlpn hybgl Xyum yk .hyim> hl ypxdm Xq vvh .Xvh hl> ,kl>v yl> ,hvqb> vhl rmX .Xtml hbr Xrbg XtXd hvbX im> .20 .yXrdn rpmd r>pX hybgl lyzyX :rmX .hybgl XtX ?trdn ym hbr Xrbgd XtidX :hyl rmX .dxX qrp vlypX , txX hklh vlypXv :hyl rmX .Xvh XnX :hyl rmX .25 ,hyirk li hyq>nv hypX li lpn .hynvmm Xglp hyl bhyv Translation to English: 1. R. Akiva was a shepherd of Ben Kalba Savua. His daughter saw that he was modest and noble. She said to him: “If I were to be betrothed to you, would you go to the study hall?” He answered: “Yes.” 5. She was then secretly betrothed to him, and she sent him away. When her father heard, he drove her from his house, and forbade her by vow from deriving any benefit from his property. He went and spent twelve years in the study hall. When he returned, he brought with him twelve thousand students. He heard that old man saying to her: “How long will you continue this life of living widowhood?” 10. She replied: “If he would listen to me, he would spend another twelve years [in the study hall].” He said: “It is with her consent that I do so.” He went and spent an additional twelve years in the study hall. When he returned, he brought with him twenty-four thousand students. His wife heard, and went out to meet him. 15. Her neighbors told her: “Borrow clothes and wear them.” She said to them: “A righteous man knows the soul of his beast” (Prov. 12:10).

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On approaching him she fell on her face and kissed his feet. His attendants were about to push her aside. He told them: “Leave her alone! Mine and yours are hers.” 20. Her father heard that a great man had come there. He said, “I will go to him, perhaps he will invalidate my vow.” He [Ben Kalba Savua] came to him. He [R. Akiva] asked him: “Would you have taken your vow if you had known that he was a great man?” He [Ben Kalba Savua] responded: “[If he had known] even a single chapter, even a single law[, I would not have vowed].” 25. He [R. Akiva] told him: “I am he.” He [Ben Kalba Savua] fell on his face and kissed his feet, and he gave him half of his possessions.

The Versions of the Narrative This narrative of R. Akiva and his mate,2 that is brought in the Babylonian Talmud, is one of the special narratives in the rabbinic literature known for their artistic beauty. Throughout the centuries it kindled the imagination of many authors, which explains its manifold and so different versions. I used its thematic evolutions to complete the conclusions that arise from an analysis of the BT version. At first glance, my methodology might seem surprising. The interpretation I will set forth below will be built on a close reading of this version exclusively, without relation to the thicket of versions and late 2 In accordance with what is related in the narrative, I do not call her his “wife” (unlike Barkai and Leon, The Aggadic Tale, p. 19, who already referred to her, in the title they gave the story, as “R. Akiva’s Wife”). It is indeed surprising that in the Ketubot version Akiva does not marry her, but only betroths her. Are we to understand from this that all those years she awaited that wedding, which was kept from her until such an advanced age? Frenkel, Midrash and Agadah, vol. 2, p. 368, states, without any reservations, that the couple married only after R. Akiva’s second return. Myerowitz Levine, “Women Who Wait,” builds an intriguing theory around this fact, and presents Ben Kalba Savua’s daughter as a woman who severed her ties to her family, refrained from bearing children, and totally devoted herself to a single man in order to “raise” him as a creative individual. This problem is precluded in the BT Nedarim 50b version, according to which the woman was initially betrothed to him, and was married to him before she sent him to the study hall. See Valler, Women and Womenhood, p. 77; Frenkel, Studies, p. 114 n. 16; and the collection of discussions on the topic in Gastfreund, Godly Tanna, fol. 1b.

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interpretations given to the narrative. My assemblage of versions and interpretations below will serve solely as a means to reinforce my conclusions. Underlying my employment of the later versions as a tool for analyzing the original narrative is the assumption that certain points that are blurred by the narrator, or the places in which his message was perceived by the later narrators as too strong, would undergo change during its various evolutions. Such changes attest to difficulties with which the later narrators wrestled when they read the early tale and sought to transmit it to their audience in an acceptable manner (according to the spirit of the time and place), and to their (conscious or unconscious) need to “correct” the text. Consequently, I will use the later versions of the narrative as a tool of equal value to the range of interpretations given to the original story, that directly related to the questions that arose from its reading. Both will aid us in examining the conception of spiritual love in the Talmudic narrative, and in distinguishing it from a totally different romantic notion of spousal love.3 3 It could be argued that in order to examine this question, a thorough exploration would have to be conducted of the concepts of romantic love in the GrecoRoman or Persian cultures, that paralleled the world of the Rabbis. We therefore should preface our remarks by stating that we are not primarily interested in the claim that the Talmudic literature was influenced in this respect by the non-Jewish conceptions. Our presentation below of the element of romantic love is meant solely to absolutely deny its relevance in the context of any possible interpretation of the narrative of R. Akiva and his mate. My main goal is to analyze a completely different type of love that I maintain is present in this story: spiritual love, which has nothing in common with romantic love other than their shared name. There, therefore, is no need to conduct a side discussion on the question of the ancient world’s attitude to romantic love. An orderly and reasoned discussion of this issue can be found in Satlow, “One Who Loves” (and in the expansion of this article into book form: Satlow, Jewish Marriage, pp. 225–29). Satlow’s conclusions accord with my argument (although he does not relate to spiritual love, which is of cardinal interest for us): he explains that the Greco-Roman world generally allowed certain sentimental elements to infuse the bond between the spouses, while the erotic element was not central to their conception of marriage, since its existence was not reserved exclusively for the husband-wife relationship, but rather mainly characterized relations beyond this framework. The Talmudic sources, in contrast, teach that the Rabbis did not regard the marital bond as based on a romantic love relationship, unlike sexual attraction, which for them was a cardinal factor in defining marriage (although Satlow emphasizes that their intent was to the male’s sexual attraction to the female). Let me clarify: despite the impression likely to be gained by my use of sociological and psychological references, I do not believe that romantic love is an ahistorical phenomenon. The sole purpose of the extensive discussion of romantic love below is, by means of a deeper understanding of the phenomenon

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Before, however, we focus on the original narrative, we should consider several questions pertaining to the different narrative versions of R. Akiva’s beginnings, and to the historical contradictions between them. The Land of Israel versions – those in the two versions of Avot de-Rabbi Nathan,4 and those in the Palestinian Talmud5 – make no mention of R. Akiva’s mate6 being the daughter of Ben Kalba Savua;7 nor do they state that she was the daughter of a wealthy man; that she initiated the relationship with Akiva; that Akiva was Ben Kalba Savua’s shepherd; and, in general, that he was shepherd by profession. In those versions, Akiva is depicted as a hewer of wood.8 They clearly indicate

4 5 6

7

8

itself, a refutation of the very prevalent conception, in both the traditional sources and current scholarship, that our narrative presents an instance of romantic love between a shepherd and the daughter of Ben Kalba Savua. Avot de-Rabbi Nathan, version A, chap. 6, pp. 28–30; version B, chap. 12, pp. 29–30. PT Shabbat 6:1:7d. Her name is mentioned in Avot de-Rabbi Nathan, version A and in BT Nedarim 50a: Rachel; but see Schechter, in his edition of Avot de-Rabbi Nathan, p. 29 n. 28. For a theory on the absorption of the name Rachel (as taken from the BT to Avot de-Rabbi Nathan), see Ilan, Mine and Yours, p. 79 n. 47; 290, 294. For an opposing opinion, see Friedman, “Retelling,” pp. 17–18. The proposed reading by Boyarin, Carnal Israel, pp. 151–55 is based on this name (see below). “Ben Kalba Savua” appears in all the mss. of the Babylonian Talmud (Vatican 113, Vatican 130, Munich 95), as well as in the Soncino 1488 printing, but the Ein Yaakov version has “Kalba Savua”; see also Herschler, Ketubot, vol. 2, p. 79 and n. 77. In either event, the Babylonian sources are unaware of the historical problem: how could someone who was known as one of the rich men of Jerusalem before the time of the Destruction (see Appendix B), or his son, have survived and lived a life of great wealth after the Destruction, as well? In order to resolve this difficulty, Hyman, Toldoth, vol. 3, p. 992, says that, apparently, “her [Rachel’s] father […] was saved from the upheaval of the Destruction, along with his wealth.” The same solution is adopted by Lehmann, Akiba, p. 10: “by paying great sums of money he had escaped being outlawed, and had withdrawn to his country estate.” In contrast to them, Kaminka, Studies, vol. 2, p. 138, is of the opinion that the narrator’s imagination confuses the time sequence, and presents events that, historically, preceded the Destruction as if they happened after it. See also the discussion by Safrai, “Tales of the Sages,” p. 229; and Yisraeli-Taran, Destruction, p. 33. Kolitz, Rabbi Akiva, who attempted to synthesize all these sources, did not perceive this contradiction. He writes (p. 24) that Akiva was “a shepherd, with no lineage to speak of”; while on p. 27 he asserts that “Akiva cut logs for their livelihood.” A similar approach was adopted by Ben-Tzion, Rabbi Akiva, pp. 12–13. See also Safrai, Rabbi Akiva, p. 14. Kaminka, Studies, vol. 2, p. 138, raises a far-reaching conjecture, that Rabbi Akiva began as a farmer on the farm of his teacher, R. Eliezer ben Hyrcanus. But see Elbaum, “Models of Storytell-

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that he was initially unlettered, and that he rose from among the lower classes to a position of leadership only by force of his diligence and perseverance in Torah study. Although they do not state that it was his wife who urged him to study – and indeed, this was her initiative, these versions, too, sing her praises, as aiding him to study under the harsh conditions he initially faced. It should, however, be stressed: Akiva is portrayed as the initiator and moving force, to the extent that the impression is sometimes gained that the wife is praised only negatively: for sufficing with little, and for not demanding that Akiva do more for their livelihood, and not for having actively encouraged him to study Torah.9 Even the version ing,” p. 74 n. 19. Apparently basing himself on Kaminka’s presumption, Lehmann (Akiba, pp. 10–11, 13–14) writes that Hyrcanus, R. Eliezer’s father, was Akiva’s former employer, and he was the one who recommended that Kalba Savua accept him as his shepherd. Raz, Love, p. 1, as well, writes that Akiva “worked for three years as a simple farm worker in the vineyard of R. Eleazar [sic] near Lydda. Afterwards he was a shepherd for Kalba Savua, one of the wealthy men of Jerusalem.” Notwithstanding this, Raz attests (p. 4) that Akiva worked as a woodcutter for his livelihood. (For interesting parallels to these legends concerning R. Akiva’s beginnings, see Halevi, Historical-Biographical, pp. 377–78.) 9 See Elbaum, “Women Characters,” p. 21; cf. Safrai, Rabbi Akiva, pp. 11–12; Safrai, “Tales of the Sages,” p. 228. There is no hint in these versions that R. Akiva left his home in order to study Torah, as in the Babylonian version. These Land of Israel versions tell of his family’s poverty, his wife’s suffering (“she suffered greatly with me for the Torah’s sake,” in the version of Avot deRabbi Nathan), and Akiva’s dedication to Torah study. Safrai (Rabbi Akiva, in the text after n. 9) deduces from this that “R. Akiva did not go to study Torah immediately after his wedding, as he had promised his wife, nor, when he was known as a Torah scholar, did he immediately gain half of the property of his father-in-law Kalba Savua.” Safrai (p. 15) concludes that the testimonies of Akiva’s extended absence from his home are historically reliable, but this happened later on, and not right after his wedding; and when he left home, his wife was quite passive: “She accepted their great poverty, and withstood the anguish of loneliness when R. Akiva left his home and spent lengthy periods in the house of his teachers.” (Finkelstein, Akiba, p. 80, even thinks that it was R. Akiva who established the practice of leaving home for an extended period to study Torah; see the objection by Boyarin, Carnal Israel, p. 155 n. 36.) It, however, is difficult to accept this assertion by Safrai, since the Land of Israel testimonies teach that R. Akiva studied close to his home, and did not separate from his wife. Version A of Avot de-Rabbi Nathan, for instance, tells that Akiva would study Torah by the light of half of the bundle of logs that he brought from the field, thus patently indicating that he did not roam from his house to study elsewhere. But specifically this element, of the student’s leaving his wife and home, was perceived by later authors as the main message of the BT narrative. Thus, e.g., Aboab, Menorat ha-Ma’or (Fourth Ner, chap. 6, para.

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of the Palestinian Talmud, that tells us how R. Akiva’s mate sold the braids of her hair so that Akiva could devote himself to Torah,10 does not portray her as the one who initiated sending him to the study hall, or as one who caused him to engage in Torah study, even though he himself had no such aspirations.11 In light of all this, and out of additional historical considerations, Safrai concludes: The tale of the love and marriage of the daughter of Kalba Ben Savua and R. Akiva is merely a literary creation, whose hero is not a victor and conqueror, but a sage and the teacher of the people; the maiden is not the daughter of a king, who did not exist in Israel at that time, but a daughter of one of the wealthy of Jerusalem, who waives half of his property on behalf of the young hero.12

In light of this plausible conclusion, it appears that the most suitable reading of this narrative is a literary one.13

10 11 12

13

244, p. 507; see also what he writes at the end of the story), in the introduction to this narrative, before he sets forth the tale itself, presents a sort of headline: “Therefore our masters would go into exile, to wherever they would find Torah academies, to study, as did R. Akiva”; see also the following discussion. The BT Nedarim version apparently incorporated the Land of Israel version with the BT Ketubot one, which is more original (see below), thus creating two problems: (1) a far-fetched mixture of the Babylonian version, that centers around R. Akiva’s mate as the initiator of Akiva’s going to the study hall, and the Land of Israel version in Avot de-Rabbi Nathan, in which the couple live in a barn, and which presents her as a weak woman, who had to be encouraged by Akiva (see Aderet, “Story,” pp. 126–27); (2) the inclusion of an additional element that diminishes Rachel’s worth: the integrated Nedarim version relates that Akiva told her that he would purchase for her a precious piece of jewelry, “a golden Jerusalem,” if only he could. Thus, his mate is portrayed as one who is jealous of her bedecked fellow women. In the Land of Israel sources, this element appears in the narrative only at the end of their joint path, and not in its beginning. See also Halevi, Historical-Biographical, pp. 375–76. See Frenkel’s summation of the differential between the several versions of the narrative, Midrash and Agadah, vol. 2, pp. 365–78. Safrai, Rabbi Akiva, p. 12. But the question arises: why was such a story of R. Akiva’s beginnings created in Babylonia, specifically? Possibly, the tradition known only from BT Pesahim 49a (of later redaction; see Safrai, “Tales of the Sages,” p. 227), regarding Akiva’s hatred of the Rabbis and Torah study, led to the birth of the notion that it was his mate who motivated him to study. Cf. also Halevi, Historical-Biographical, pp. 378–79. Another possibility of understanding such a work on a Babylonian background is connected with the place of the woman in Babylonia; see the discussion, below, on Boyarin’s argument. Kemmer, “Legend,” p.38, as well, indicates the centrality of the element of literary fashioning. She regards the narrative as one of the fulfilling of desires: the social-class and educational gaps are closed, and the fierce love between the couple is finally consummated in marriage, to which even the hostile father

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Different literary considerations, which were already raised by Abraham Aderet,14 Samuel Safrai,15 and Shamma Friedman,16 it seems that the original among the two Babylonian versions, and the more original and better from the literary aspect, is that in BT Ketubot 62b, and not that of Nedarim 50a. It is for this reason that I chose to focus on the former.

The Love of Akiva and His Mate The key question that will open our discussion is this: does this narrative belong to the romantic love narrative genre, that is common in world literature? Or perhaps, such a characterization is anachronistic, and inserts an alien way of thinking in a text of a traditional society, whose concepts run totally counter to the thought of romance? If the former, we must say that the great love between its two heroes is at the center of the story; and that this, in a subplot, aids in forming the image of Akiva as a Torah leader. How is this so? We could say that by the force of her love for Akiva his mate gives him the encouragement and maximal conditions needed to develop as a spiritual leader. This energetic assistance on her part must therefore be understood as a special expression of love.17 Or, possibly, this can be drawn even finer, and it could be argued, as does Zuri, that Ben Kalba Savua’s daughter did not initiate sending Akiva to his studies only as a gift of love, but out of shame: “It was shameful for her that her husband was one of the ignorant.”18 And, as if this were not enough, Zuri provides an additional reason for sending Akiva: so that her father would not think Akiva to be a mere shepherd, but would take them back. Zuri therefore believes that the motives of Ben Kalba Savua’s daughter for

14 15 16 17 18

gives his blessing. On the attempt to identify the Babylonian narrative as emerging from several earlier nuclei (a short passage on R. Akiva’s son in the Tosefta, a Babylonian mythos, an ancient saying) that were later stitched together in a literary reworking, see Friedman, “Retelling”; and on this question from the viewpoint of fundamental aggadic methodology, see Friedman, p. 33 n. 102. Aderet, “Story,” p. 129. Safrai, “Tales of the Sages,” p. 223 n. 52. Cf. also the attempt by Valler, Women and Womenhood, p. 77, to find a nuclear story that preceded the two Babylonian versions. Friedman, “Retelling,” pp. 21–22. As is argued by Zimmerman; see below, n. 26. Zuri, Rabbi Akiva, p. 3.

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fostering her beloved’s education were: (1) a surrender to social pressures; and (2) the desire to mollify her father whom she had alienated. This reading has the tale center around the social difficulties with which the pair of lovers had to contend, following the accepted pattern of romantic love stories. This narrative, however, can be read properly even without the emotional element, and with a general conception of wisdom taking center stage. This can be exemplified with a very similar plot, that is taken from an ancient Chinese textbook, The History of Famous Women, the author of which apparently – like the anonymous author of our narrative – lived in the fifth century CE and told of heroes who had lived in the second century. The Chinese version tells of an intelligent, modest, and extremely kind woman, who was entirely responsible for her husband acquiring wisdom. The man found a valuable object in the street, and when he brought it to his wife, she chided him for his not studying – for the wise man also is a good person, and does not benefit from something stolen. Thus the husband, who was ashamed of his action, undertook to return the object, and to stay for an entire year with a teacher of wisdom. At the end of the year of study the yearning husband returned to his wife, but she reproached him again – she cut with scissors the fabric that she had spent many months weaving on a spindle, and told him: The yarn is made of threads, and what begins tiny will in the end grow very large; but if you cut it when it begins, then it will lose all its value.19 The man returned to the teacher’s house, and this time he persevered in his studies for seven whole years. All those years his wife supported herself and his mother by her labor, and even sent him money for his needs.20 The Chinese version does not relate to any emotional tie between the couple. Not love, but devotion to wisdom, is at the center of the narrative. Reading, however, the narrative in Ketubot in a similar spirit would raise an interpretive difficulty: according to this proposal, personal love for the shepherd was not the motive for the behavior of Ben Kalba Savua’s daughter, but her love of the Torah and of the people of the Torah. If this is the case, then the question arises: why did she sug19 See the version of the story in Bin-Gorion, Paths, p. 61. 20 See also motif J 1011 in Thompson, Folk-Index, vol. 4, p. 67 (and mainly motif J80 mentioned there). See also type 843* in Aarne, Types, p. 283. See also Schwarzbaum, Studies, pp. 450–51, nn. to p. 51.

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gest that Akiva betroth her? She could easily have gotten her father to aid that talented shepherd to study Torah, even without being betrothed to him. And Ben Kalba Savua certainly would have preferred that possibility to her betrothal to a shepherd.21 On the other hand, a reading that anchors the narrative in the romantic element,22 as well, will have difficulty in finding any basis for this in our tale, that refrains from any direct mention of the love between Akiva and his mate. It states only that Ben Kalba Savua’s daughter saw that Akiva was modest and noble. What was the nature of this “seeing,” and what is its relation to the narrative as a whole? Are we to understand it as an expression of the emotion of love in its romantic sense? Many of the scholars who have studied this narrative followed this reading. The version in BT Nedarim 50a might have influenced their reading, since it contains a short description that might hint at a feeling of sentimental attachment between Akiva and his mate:

yX hl rmX ,hyyzm ]m Xnbyt hyl uyqnm Xq Xvh ,Xnbyt yb vng hvh Xvtycb Xbhdd ,yl>vry „yl Xnymr – yl yXvh Translation to English: In winter23 they slept on straw, and he had to pick the straw from her hair. He said to her, “If I could, I would give you24 a golden Jerusalem.”25

21 See Barkai and Leon, The Aggadic Tale, p. 25. In consequence, Frenkel, Studies, p. 133, was careful not to complete uproot the romantic element from the narrative, and he defines the connection between Akiva and his mate as “an emotional relationship.” Frenkel adds parenthetically, as regards the woman’s feelings, that “in our times it would be said: her love.” See also the discussion, below, on Frenkel’s stance. 22 It should be noted that my use here and below of the adjective “romantic” is obviously in its commonly understood sense, that contains the emotional and sentimental. 23 "Xvtyc ” means winter in Aramaic (see Sokoloff, Babylonian Aramaic, p. 809). In MS Vatican 110 and in MS Moscow 1134 this word was not understood, and was changed to Xrtyc (“in secret”,) while in MS Munich 95: ’vvtycb ; and in the Venice 1522 printing: Xvtycb . 24 On the accuracy of the translation of Xnymr, see Friedman, “Retelling,” p. 11 n. 30. 25 On the question of the nature of this ornament in the reality, see Ilan, “‘Jerusalem of Gold,’” pp. 33–46; Friedman, “Retelling,” p. 13.

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David Zimmerman bases his presentation of the narrative as an unabashed love story26 on this depiction, and maintains that the narrative of Akiva and his mate is an amazing tale that attests to the woman’s fierce love for the man to whom she has bound her life. For […] this is the main “message” that this narrative brings with it: that of a great and faithful love between a man and a woman.27

Zimmerman accordingly unreservedly selects the first possibility for our narrative: Inherent in the woman’s request [that Akiva go to study Torah] is a “response” both to the manifestations of his feelings of love for her, and to his consoling words concerning their poverty.28 Their privation does not worry her. When she married him, she forwent, from the outset, a life of luxury […] R. Akiva speaks consolingly of what was taken from her – wealth and possessions – and does so out of his love for her. She speaks – out of her love for him – of what was taken from him, or, more correctly, of what he had never had: the crown of Torah. […] If she waived […] the crown of wealth, she is not willing to give up [for Akiva, out of her love for him] the “crown of Torah” that will adorn his head; R. Akiva will give a faithful expression of his love if he will go to learn in the study hall, despite his advanced age, and despite the pain that separation for many years will entail.29 26 This is how Zimmerman sees the barn scene: “In this miniature scene crafted by a master artist, we see the pair of lovers sleeping in the winter in a barn, in their poverty having no other shelter. Now morning shines over the barn and the couple’s bed of straw. We see how R. Akiva ‘picks the straw from her hair,’ and, within this gentle motion, tells her: ‘If I could, I would give you a golden Jerusalem.’” (Zimmerman, Love Stories, p. 68). The barn scene was already depicted in a romantic manner before him, by Schatzkes, Ha-Mafteah, p. 123, who relates that it was the woman who picked the straw from Akiva’s head, out of “her great love for him.” Schatzkes even has Akiva first saying, with a phrase taken from the Song of Songs, “My faultless dove!” Incidentally, that Aramaic source in Nedarim (in Vilna edition) states that Akiva picked straw from her hair, but R. Samuel Eliezer Edels (Maharsha) understood this as referring to the woman: that she picked straw from his head. See Maharsha, ad loc., s.v. “R[abbi] A[kiva] Ikadasht,” who explains that the narrative mentions that, in contrast with this act – of picking straw from Akiva’s hair – Akiva wanted “to give her reward [when he would become] rich, to place on her head a golden depiction of the city of Jerusalem.” The source of the switch lies in the different versions of this passage in the Talmud; see Herschler, Ketubot, vol. 2, p. 37 and n. 10. On the question of whether a scholarly perspective would detect the characteristics of a romance in this narrative, see Ben-Israel, Through Women’s Eyes, pp. 31–53 (generally speaking, a romance is an adventure and love story; for an expansion of this issue, see pp. 33–34). 27 Zimmerman, Love Stories, p. 68. 28 Zimmerman is referring to Akiva’s wish in BT Nedarim to purchase an expensive piece of jewelry for his wife. 29 Zimmerman, Love Stories, p. 69.

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Akiva’s Torah study is important for the daughter of Ben Kalba Savua only because she wishes, out of her great love for him, to give him a present – and, for the present, even he is unaware of its great significance for him. And Akiva, on his part, goes to the study hall only in order to fill her request. Thus, according to Zimmerman, this narrative is a story of the gifts that the heroes give one another. In his reading, it is not the content of the gifts (that is, the intrinsic worth of Torah study) that is of primary importance, but the very giving, that attests to the fierce love that prompts the two heroes.30 In this spirit, Kaminka already preceded Zimmerman: To add to our amazement, the aggadah related […] that in his youth he was unlettered and a shepherd, and only out of romantic love for the daughter of his wealthy master who adhered to him against the will of her family and lived with him in poverty, did he heed her to go study Torah and become the head of the sages.31

But does this interpretive assumption have any textual basis in the version in Ketubot? Even if the narrative contains allusions to emotional elements, do they suffice to base this interpretation as a story of the power of love? Or, perhaps, even if the daughter of Ben Kalba Savua were impelled by her fierce sentiments for Akiva, the main thrust

30 Safrai (“Tales of the Sages,” p. 228) highlights the romantic element in the narrative: “In the tradition of the Babylonian Talmud, the story has been embroidered into a complete romance […] Rachel […] fell in love with Akiva.” This is also the position taken by Yassif, Hebrew Folktale, pp. 109–11, who divides the tales of Akiva’s beginnings into three categories, the first two of which are of importance for our discussion. The first type relates how Akiva reached the conclusion that he was capable of studying Torah, despite his advanced age, which Yassif calls the “didactic” tale; and the second is the “novelistic” one, such as our narrative. According to Yassif, this is “the story of a great love which proves stronger than family and material possessions; the hero sets out for distant parts, where his wisdom and diligence reward him with both wealth and greatness.” The main focus of this story, then, for Yassif, is not the didactic aspect – as the second possibility that we set forth, that has the narrative revolve around the idea of self-sacrifice in order to study Torah – but the novelistic one (see Yassif’s definition of the novella, p. 27). See also Finkelstein, Akiba, p. 22 (cf. Nedava, Rabbi Akiva, p. 25). On the later evolutions of this narrative as representing this distinction, see Appendix A, below. 31 Kaminka, Studies, vol. 2, p. 135. From a systematic perspective, however, it should be noted that the emphasis of the romantic element does not necessarily lead to the conclusion that the value of Torah is secondary here to the element of giving, as Zimmerman concludes. See below.

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of the tale lies in “the thought of his wife, his faithful lover, to see him in the majesty of a great man in Israel”?32 To answer this question, we must give the narrative a second and precise reading.

Structure of the Narrative The narrative is constructed of a tranquil beginning and end, separated by a dramatic center.33 The tension throughout the narrative is founded on the bond that is established between the couple, on the one hand, and, on the other, the various attempts to sever it. The reader, who identifies with the two heroes, senses that danger lurks on every side for the special bond that is formed between them. It seems that the progression of the narrative can be drawn as a wavelike motion between the strengthening of the bond and the waves that come from outside, with the design of sundering it. I will mark as “A” the positive trend that strengthens or maintains the relationship (his going to the study hall, as well, is a way of reinforcing the bond, even though it results in a physical separation between the two, and so I mark it as “A1”), and “B” the negative trend, that seeks to undermine it, or at least sets itself as a stranger to the relationship, that does not comprehend its nature. The narrative progresses as follows (if we leave aside for a moment its last part, beginning with “Her father heard …” [beginning at line 39,] that seems to have been attached by a later redactor):34 A. the daughter of Ben Kalba Savua “sees” Akiva. A. she offers to be betrothed to him; A1. and that he will go to the study hall. A. He agrees, and they do so. B. Ben Kalba Savua expels his daughter from his house and cuts her off from his property. A1. Akiva goes to the study hall, where he remains for twelve years. A. He returns, accompanied by his students. B. The old man bemoans her “widowhood” to Akiva’s mate. 32 As formulated by Ben-Tzion, Rabbi Akiva, p. 13. 33 Kemmer, “Legend,” p. 38. 34 Following Frenkel, Studies, p. 113 n. 14. See also Barkai and Leon, The Aggadic Tale, p. 38; Friedman, “Retelling,” pp. 32–33 n. 101; see below.

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A1. She replies that her desire is even greater than this: even twice as many years. A1. Akiva obeys her and returns to the study hall. A. He returns home a second time. A. His mate goes forth to greet him. B. The neighbor women suggest that she change her clothing. A. She responds that this is unnecessary. A. She approaches Akiva and kisses his feet. A. The attendants push her away. A. Akiva orders them to let her be. The functions A and B thus appear alternately, in a wavelike motion. The bond between the couple is interrupted four times, through either opposition or a lack of comprehension. The characters who seek to undermine the relationship are: (1) Ben Kalba Savua; (2) the old man; (3) the female neighbors; and (4) the attendants. A more profound examination reveals that each of these waves of opposition represents a different worldview of the nature of the bond between men and women within the institution of marriage.35 In the face of these conceptions, the bond between Akiva and his mate, that is fashioned as a mysterious tie, that is not understood by the environment, becomes even closer. We learn that all these waves (breakers) that threaten this relationship are incapable of severing it. Why is this so? Because they do not plumb the depths of its essential nature.

The Waves of Opposition and Their Significance Ben Kalba Savua: Why did Ben Kalba Savua battle his daughter’s marriage to Akiva, his shepherd? If this was out of purely spiritual considerations, headed by the concern for “Torah study” as a supreme value, then the father could easily have made his agreement to the relationship conditional on Akiva’s studying, which was what his daughter demanded. Or, maybe, let us assume that Ben Kalba Savua did not believe in his shepherd’s intellectual capability. Two possibilities, both refutable, present themselves. According to one, Ben Kalba Savua thought that 35 And in our narrative, the spousal relationship (since it does not state that they were married to one another, as explained in n. 2, above).

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if he were to allow Akiva to go to the study hall, the shepherd would persevere in his studies, but would never become a great rabbi or halakhic authority. The question arises, against this argument: if Ben Kalba Savua is motivated by his devotion to truth and Torah for its own sake, why should he oppose such an agreement? For it is a fundamental principle that “it is all one whether a person offers much or little, provided he directs his mind to Heaven.”36 The other possibility is that Ben Kalba Savua did not believe Akiva’s promise to persevere in his studies, and thought that he would comply with his father-in-law’s pressure only for appearance’s sake, and following the wedding he would rescind his intent to study. This explanation, however, raises a difficulty of its own: of what avail was the vow and expulsion declared by Ben Kalba Savua? In what way was this vow, to Ben Kalba Savua’s thinking, to save his daughter from the delusions that led her to the arms of the illiterate shepherd? The narrator apparently assumed that in this manner, by denying the delights of riches, Ben Kalba Savua sought to weaken his daughter’s resolve and cause her to eventually part from Akiva. Or, perhaps, he imagined that Akiva, the poor shepherd, was interested in the gold and silver of the wealthy heiress, and would take his leave of her once he realized that he would never enjoy these material benefits.37 Accordingly, Ben Kalba Savua perceived the relationship between his daughter and Akiva as being of a class-monetary nature. He surmised that once his daughter had been detached from the source of income, she would certainly change her mind. And even if she would not, then Akiva himself would abandon her. We can picture to ourselves the basis of the class-monetary conception of the couple’s compatibility: the two mates must be of equivalent or similar social class (wealthy; of high social standing; in our case, the groom could have approached the bride’s standing if, perhaps, he had been a Torah scholar of note). A stance of this sort is reminiscent of the 36 See BT Berakhot 5b, in the name of “our masters in Yavneh.” The principle itself already appears in M Menahot 13:11. 37 See Barkai and Leon, The Aggadic Tale, p. 28. They were preceded by Lehmann, Akiba, pp. 33–34, who presents Ben Kalba Savua as saying this outright and forcefully to Rachel, in Akiva’s presence: “Foolish child! Can the man [= Akiva] overtake what the lad missed? Do you believe that he will keep his word? […] He wants you for what you have, and when he possesses your riches he will live like a rich man.” Lehmann presents her being sent away as a mere petulant whim. On Akiva’s thoughts regarding Ben Kalba Savua’s inheritance, see also below, at the end of Appendix B.

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definition of “a proposal of marriage” in modern society formulated by the American sociologist Erving Goffman: “A proposal of marriage in our society tends to be a way in which a man sums up his social attributes and suggests to a woman that hers are not so much better as to preclude a merger or partnership in these matters.”38 Starting from a similar assumption, Bernard Murstein developed a psychological theory of marriage called the “exchange theory.” The theory postulates that the attraction between couples is dependent on the best exchange value of possessions and commitments that each partner brings to the relationship. This theory views the mates as the builders of relationships that will likely give them maximal satisfaction at the lowest possible price. “Love,” according to this conception, is the partners’ feeling of mutual satisfaction at having made the most successful “deal” possible for them.39 Another sociological theory that might aid in clarifying Ben Kalba Savua’s negative attitude to the emerging bond between the couple is the “filter theory,”40 that describes the interaction processes between a couple considering entering into a marital bond. According to this theory, during the creation of the relationship, the couple operate a sort of hierarchical system of filters by means of which they examine their mutual compatibility. Only after their relationship has passed all of these filters are they capable of thinking about marriage. Thus, for example, only after seeing that they are able to overcome the difference between them in social background and place of residence (the first filter) can the two move on to testing the values that each holds and their areas of interest (the second filter). Ben Kalba Savua’s concerns in the narrative seem to resemble those presented in the filter theory. The substantial class differential between his daughter and his shepherd was the first obstacle to his consenting to the relationship between them;41 and he probably saw the shepherd’s

38 39 40 41

Goffman, “Aspects of Adaption,” p 456. See Murstein, Who Will Marry Whom. Kerkoff and Davis, “Value Consensus.” On the inferior standing of the shepherd at that time, see Krauss, Kadmoniyyot, 1/2, p. 244 and n. 1 (see Krauss, Talmudische, vol. 1, p. 279 n. 92, in the original German version); Beer, Amoraim of Babylonia, pp. 136–38; Ben-Ari, The Shepherd, pp. 33–46. See also the comments by Barkai and Leon, The Aggadic Tale, 20; and Frenkel, Aggadic Narrative, p. 355 n. 37. On R. Akiva’s past as a shepherd, see Rabbenu Tam’s comment in Ketubot 62b, in Tosafot, s.v. “Dehavei,” who is certain that Akiva the shepherd was “observant of the com-

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values and areas of interest as remote from those of his daughter, and unbridgeable. Following this reading, the character of Ben Kalba Savua at the end of the narrative42 is painted in a completely different light from what is commonly imagined, since we now can sense the fine irony that infuses this characterization. The last part of the narrative relates that Ben Kalba Savua wanted to annul his vow before the great sage who had come to town. We can imagine that this turnabout ensued from the realization that his former considerations had been erroneous, and from his longings for his daughter, which as time passed had overcome his anger and humiliation (otherwise, we could not explain the change he underwent, since the bond that had angered him and led him to take his vow remained in force).43 Years later, he realizes that the close relationship between Akiva and his daughter remains firm, despite his having rescinded all material support. When, in the closing scene, he discovers the amazing fact that this great scholar is Akiva, who underwent a transformation from ignorant shepherd to an outstanding “shepherd” of a leading study hall, Ben Kalba Savua does not get on his feet and confess his error. He does not ask Akiva’s pardon for his petty perception and “blindness”;44 he does not offer thanks to God for, in the end, providing him with a son-inlaw of outstanding character and scholarship; nor does he express true love for the Torah and his son-in-law. The narrator mentions only two actions by Ben Kalba Savua in response to the electrifying revelation: “he fell on his face and kissed his feet,” and “he gave him half of his possessions.” These are the two central components of the class-monetary conception that he confesses: social standing – corresponding to which he bows before someone who is revealed to be as important as he, and kisses his feet; and money – in line with which he gives him half of

mandments.” See also the discussion by Gastfreund, Godly Tanna, fol. 1b; and n. 12, above. On the possibility that an early Mesopotamian topos of the “modest shepherd” made its way here, see Friedman, “Retelling,” p. 21 n. 61. 42 Whether this is the original ending of the narrative, or whether it was attached to the narrative by a later redactor (see above, n. 34), in which case we must examine the final product of the redactor’s efforts, that also includes the late addition. 43 As this is also presented explicitly in the version of Ma’aseh Book, p. 119; and in Segal, Ko Asu, pp. 110–11. 44 On the leitmotiv of seeing-blindness in the narrative, see below.

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all he possesses.45 The narrator thereby ironically presents Ben Kalba Savua as the same man who many years ago had dispossessed his daughter, but this time the new-old son-in-law meets his class expectations.46 The old man: The Talmud generally uses “that old man” to depict a mysterious entity who reveals matters to the narrative’s characters that would be hidden from them in the natural order of things.47 The traditional commentary commonly identifies him with the prophet Elijah,48 and, according to one view, his role in this narrative is perceived as being the conduit for communication between Akiva and his mate, and as causing Akiva to set out for an additional twelve-year stint in the study hall.49 Here, too, we should ask: what conception of marriage is represented by this old man? It seems that his view is explicit in his statements, and needs no further explication. The old man tells Akiva’s mate that her life is only “living widowhood.” This Biblical expression originates in the account that, following David’s return to Jerusalem after 45 Additional support for this reading can be drawn from the changes introduced by later narrators to the original text in Ketubot. See Appendix B, below. 46 The ironic reading I suggest for the second part of the narrative does not draw a clear parallel between the woman’s falling to the ground and kissing Akiva’s feet and the similar action later taken by Ben Kalba Savua. This could, however, be understood as a contrasting parallelism, since Ben Kalba Savua, unlike his daughter, is presented as patently lacking acute inner discernment. This action is therefore only an expression of submission, which, for his daughter, ensues from inner esteem, while, for her father, it is a sign of external honor. On the gap between external honor and inner esteem in the aggadic literature in general, see Frenkel, Aggadic Narrative, pp. 295–316. In any event, it should be recalled in this context that the version of MS Vatican 130 (see below, n. 78) not only finely resolves this problem, it provides us with the intriguing contrast between Akiva’s kissing his mate’s feet and Ben Kalba Savua’s kissing the feet of his son-in-law. 47 See Frenkel, Studies, p. 57 n. 23; Barkai and Leon, The Aggadic Tale, p. 31 n. 1; Aderet, “Story,” p. 125 n. 2; 127, n. 5. 48 See Tosafot, s.v. “Ashkeheih hahu Sava,” Hullin 6a. Hyman, Toldoth, vol. 3, pp. 957–58, compiled a list of all the places in the Talmud in which this appellation is mentioned, and summarized his findings: “We clearly see from several places […] that this is not Elijah.” On this identification, see also Azulai, Petah Enayim, vol. 1, fol. 67a on Shabbat 34a, s.v. “Amar hahu Sava”; Spiegel, “Yesod Olam,” pp. 224–26. On Elijah in Jewish tradition, see Ayali, “Eliyahu”; and Rubin, Beginning of Life, p. 96 and n. 101 (p. 176). 49 See Frenkel, Studies, p. 114.

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Absalom’s revolt, he took ten concubines – the ones with whom Absalom had cohabited before all Israel, “and put them in a guarded place; he provided for them, but he did not cohabit with them. They remained in seclusion until the day they died, in living widowhood” (II Sam. 20:3). Those women who were imprisoned by David and remained husbandless were therefore like widows in the life of their husband.50 A spousal relationship, as understood by that “old man,” is built on an actual shared life, and according to his external criteria, Akiva and his mate share nothing, since they do not live under the same roof, and each is occupied with his or her own affairs. Against the position expressed by the“old man,” the narrator presents a different model of sharing: courageous and fertile sharing between the mates is possible, even if concealed. It therefore seems that the voice of the “old man” in this narrative is the external voice of society, that criticizes the seemingly strange actions of Ben Kalba Savua’s daughter. And, in truth, we wonder together with him: how can we understand those many years of sacrifice, for which no return is in sight?51 The women neighbors: The women neighbors, too, manifest their lack of understanding of the nature of the relationship between Akiva and his mate, when they advise her to change her clothing when she goes to greet him: “Borrow clothes and wear them.” That is to say, her simple clothing does not seem suitable to them, who regard her as naked.52 Assuming that it was known in the city that the rabbi who was arriving with his students was Akiva,53 we can, I maintain, conclude that 50 This interpretation of the verse follows Pseudo-Jonathan ad loc., who renders “tzerurot” as “netiran” (guarded). Another view, however, interprets this in an accentuated sexual context, as being bound with chastity belts; see Kiel, Samuel, vol. 2, p. 491, n. 16. See also below, Appendix C. 51 For confirmation of this by the later versions, see Appendix C, below. 52 For the later versions, see Appendix D, below. 53 This is not explicit in the Ketubot and Nedarim versions. Barkai and Leon, The Aggadic Tale, p. 38 n. 1, assume for some reason, without any clear proof, that it is “almost explicit” in the Nedarim version that the woman does not know that this scholar is Akiva. They refer to Rashi ad loc., but Rashi on Nedarim ad loc., s.v. “Yodea,” merely indicates two interpretive possibilities: “According to one view, she knew that this one was R. Akiva, and she told them that he would not despise her, while the other view is that she did not know, but told

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their misunderstanding symbolizes, yet again, different perceptions of the essence of the spousal relationship: that of the neighbors, and what is indicated by the response of Akiva’s mate to their suggestion. The neighbor’s statement teaches that, according to their worldview, a woman desirous of maintaining a desirable bond with her husband should adorn herself, take pains with her appearance, and come before him when she is comely and attractive. In line with this approach, the garb that they recommend is sexually alluring, or aesthetically attractive.54 Akiva’s mate, however, does not need this, since the nature of the relationship that she formed with Akiva during the years of his absence is based neither on sexual seduction nor on aesthetic attraction. The bond between them is woven of other, hidden, elements that cannot be seen by the bewildered neighbors.

[them] that the righteous one would not denigrate people.” An additional possibility, as Herschler, Ketubot, vol. 2, p. 40 n. 41, alludes, is that the “A righteous man knows the needs of his beast” wording in Ketubot suits the interpretive possibility that Akiva’s mate knew who was coming, as is implied in “his beast,” while the “A righteous man is concerned with the cause of the wretched” version (see below) is appropriate for the possibility that she did not know the scholar’s identity, and said generally that, if he is a righteous man, then he will have compassion on the wretched, and there is no need to primp before him in fine clothes. The impression gained from the original (Babylonian) version in Ketubot is therefore more suitable for the first interpretive possibility offered by Rashi, to which the emphasis: “His wife heard, and went out to meet him” alludes. 54 On the importance of a woman’s adorning herself as a behavioral norm in the world of the Rabbis, see Tosefta Nashim, Kiddushin 1:11, p. 279, that declares that a married woman who does not adorn herself for her husband “will be cursed” (on the correct version, see Lieberman, Tosefta ki-Fshutah, Nashim, vol. 8, p. 926); see also T Ketubot 7:8 (Tosefta Nashim, p. 81): a married woman may not take a vow that she will not wear colorful clothing. See also what R. Akiva himself says about the menstruant woman: in contrast with the “early elders,” he permits her to put on eye-shadow or rouge and adorn herself with colorful clothing during the time of her menstrual impurity, for if not, “this will lead to contention, and the husband may want to divorce her” (Sifra, end of Metzora, 9:12, 79c; see also BT Shabbat 64b). See also Goldin, “Profile,” p. 51. On a married woman’s not adorning herself as a sign that her sexual relations with her husband had ceased, see Sifrei, Numbers, Beha’alotekha 99, p. 98, ll. 5–8; see also Satlow, “One Who Loves,” p. 74. On women’s adornments in the Rabbinic literature, see Halevi, Historical-Biographical, pp. 96–97; Gootfeld, “Feminine Beauty” (for later sources, see Stahl, Family, p. 206 n. 7; pp. 211–12). On the significance of the response “A righteous man knows the needs of his beast,” see the discussion, below.

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The attendants: The attendants push Akiva’s mate away from him, and actually separate the two. They, too, like the women neighbors, do not see the concealed bonding thread that passes between the two, but their shortsightedness in the narrative represents a different stance than that expressed by the “separators” who preceded them: it symbolizes the inner hierarchy of the study hall,55 in which the simple people, and certainly women, take no part. In order to sense the emotional charge of this situation, let us imagine for a fleeting moment a similar meeting under different circumstances, in which the rabbi is approached, not by a poor, ragged woman, but by an exalted male figure, such as the head of another study hall. We can safely assume that under such circumstances the attendants would lose no time in pushing aside the crowds, and clear a path for that prominent rabbinic figure so that he could receive R. Akiva. From the perspective of the attendants, there is a clear hierarchy: at the top of the ladder, naturally, is the head of the study hall, below whom the other people are graded, according to the inner criterion of the study hall, each individual on the level fitting for him, according to one’s knowledge of Torah.56 The lesser their knowledge, the lower their standing; and the lower their standing, the less desirable is their physical proximity to the study hall head. According to this conception, the attendants’ task is to distance those of inferior standing from the rabbi. And now a woman stands before them, and her external manifestations do not reveal any closeness to the distinguished study hall head. Accordingly, they are duty-bound to remove her from R. Akiva. 55 Their role in this narrative is similar, in a certain respect, to that of Abdan, the attendant of R. Judah ha-Nasi, in the narrative in BT Yevamot 105b. See the analysis of Frenkel, Studies, pp. 77–82. On the “external forms, ceremonies, and the practices that became the strict orders of the study hall” (pp. 77–78), see also 73–77. On an additional misunderstanding that the woman revealed regarding the study hall hierarchy, see Frenkel, p. 111 (on the narrative in BT Ketubot 62b about R. Hama bar Bisa). See also below, chap. 4 n. 6. 56 This approach is finely delivered in the version in Addition to Avot de-Rabbi Nathan, chap. 8, fol. 82a, in which R. Akiva and his students are depicted as exalted angels: “After several years, R. Akiva came after he had learned the entire Torah. Twenty-four thousand pairs of students accompanied him, with he [= R. Akiva] at their head, like Gabriel at the head of the holy.” This hierarchical conception, that places the sage at the top of the pyramid, is one of the bestknown in the Rabbinic literature. On this conception, and on the dangers of pride and arrogance that could accompany it, see Hazani, “Etrog and Lulav,” esp. pp. 28–30. See additional sources in chap. 4 n. 6, below, and the references there.

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Here, however, we encounter the most highly charged line of the entire narrative, its balancing line (as Yona Frenkel already alluded).57 In line 19 R. Akiva turns to his attendants and tells them: “Leave her alone! Mine and yours are hers.” In this way he reveals what had been concealed from them: by her self-sacrifice, this wretched-looking woman is responsible for both his own spiritual growth, and that of his students. After the time of the Talmud, R. Akiva’s unique exclamation regarding his mate lost its original radical meaning due to its overuse, that took it out of focus and led it to lose its primal power, a force that I am attempting to arouse again with this new reading. In terms of the plot, it would have sufficed for R. Akiva to tell his students to allow this woman to approach him, since she is his mate. The narrator, however, elected to fashion R. Akiva’s words at the end of the narrative58 in a more dramatic manner, and to thereby transmit to the study hall sages a revolutionary message that could not be relayed in any other way. The underlying message in Akiva’s response to his attendants can therefore be formulated as follows: higher and truer spiritual criteria, that you are incapable of “seeing,” stand behind the curtain of the study hall’s ceremoniousness, formality, and hierarchy. Pure intent and religious devotion are not measured by a person’s demeanor, and not even by the degree of his scholarliness – but, in the final analysis, it is only the former that beget meaningful spiritual accomplishments.

Inner and Outer To summarize our discussion to now: the concealed tension throughout the narrative is therefore that between the inner and outer worlds. The inner is close to religious truth, while the external is distant from it. The external world is founded on the interests of money, social power, status, and recognition. The place of women in it is dependent in great degree on the manner in which they make use of the manipulative tools of their sexuality and beauty. The surprising aspect of this narrative, as of many other Talmudic and midrashic tales, is that the 57 Frenkel, Studies, p. 113. 58 As I observed (above, n. 34), from the literary aspect, it seems that the original narrative reached its climax here, and we may assume that it ended at this point, with its continuation being a later attachment by by the redactor.

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study hall, too, is portrayed as an external world in which ceremoniousness, honors, and hierarchy play a central role. Thus, this story joins the large number of tales critical of the study hall’s externalized aspects, that spotlight the marginal, the hidden, the invisible, as they hint that it is the humble individual, who has nothing to do with external forms of honor, who can truly draw near to God. Now we can sketch the structure of the narrative: a connection, that the narrator calls “seeing,” is forged between two different souls, that are distant from one another. This bond is based on the perception of the qualities that are hidden from the external eye.59 The daughter of Ben Kalba Savua “sees” that Akiva is both extraordinary and modest, even though these traits are not externally recognizable. Patently, Ben Kalba Savua, who employed Akiva on his estate, did not regard him as being worth much.60 During the course of our study of the narrative, we, again and again, encounter this special seeing-connection, in which Akiva and his mate “see” in each other things that no one else discerns, and act differently toward each other than the representatives of the external view would expect. Other passages in the Talmudic literature contain dicta in praise of Ben Kalba Savua that, if our narrator were aware of them, were totally ignored by him. At any rate, these teachings, together with some additional factors, led the narrators of the tale in its later versions (see below, Appendix B) to introduce changes and to depict Ben Kalba Savua as someone for whom love of the Torah and good attributes were cardinal. This was so to such an extent later on that Rabbenu Nissim, in 59 Bachya Ibn Pakuda defines one who possesses such seeing as one who sees “without eyes” (Duties of the Heart, Eighth Gate, chap. 3, end of the tenth instance of introspection, p. 365): cf. the Hasidic definitions for inner seeing cited by Margolin, “Abraham,” pp. 300–303. 60 Attention should be paid to the precise wording: “His daughter saw,” in contrast with “her father heard” (of her betrothal to Akiva) – a distant rumor, with no true and deep acquaintanceship with Akiva’s inner world. See Barkai and Leon, The Aggadic Tale, pp. 35–36; cf. Frenkel, Aggadic Narrative, p. 211 n. 50; and p. 303, on inner sight in the aggadic story. On the relationship between seeing and knowledge in the Bible, see Seeligmann, Studies, p. 142: “idy expresses the end of the experiential process. The form of this experience could be the result of sensory perception […] also the result of experience, and at times, of inspiration […] this original sense can be translated by the words ‘to reach an understanding,’ ‘to come to know.’” See also Zakovitch, Every High Official, p. 76; cf. Philo, On the Confusion of Tongues (De Confusione Linguarum), 140. On the preference of seeing to hearing, see also Halevi, Gates, p. 94 n. 57.

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Hibbur Yafeh me-ha-Yeshu’ah,61 precedes his version of the narrative by declaring that his aim is to “to teach us of the righteous woman, a daughter of the wealthy and respected, and her and her father’s longing to marry her to a Torah scholar.” Understandably, then, in the consciousness of the later narrators, the depiction of Ben Kalba Savua was not intended to direct criticism against an obtuse father, whose world is totally materialistic, and who does not see what his daughter “sees”; to the contrary: in these versions, Ben Kalba Savua becomes a role model of a Torah-loving father, who is totally devoted to questions of the spirit. The later versions, that cast Ben Kalba Savua in a favorable light, present us with a major difficulty: if he was such a positive character, why was the “lover of Torah” denied what Heaven had granted his daughter: the ability to see Akiva’s inner essence, right from the outset? Why was he subject to the terrible disaster of twenty-four years of separation from his daughter? Additionally, as we asked above, if Ben Kalba Savua’s sole motive was his pure love of Torah, as in the later versions, how did vow and expulsion advance the ideal of Torah study? He could have received Akiva as he was, and encouraged him to go to the study hall – which happened in any case. In the second wave of opposition to the relationship between Akiva and his mate we have the “old man,” who speaks for society, that looks askance at the devotion of Ben Kalba Savua’s daughter to Akiva; and in the third wave we hear the voice of the women neighbors, that reflects a lack of comprehension for the nature of the relationship that is formed between the two. The neighbors, like the old man, perceive a marital relationship as established on revealed, external features. And finally, in the last wave of opposition, we meet the attendants, the representatives of study hall hierarchy and ceremoniousness, who cling to their own criteria for assessing the bond between the couple, in accordance with the degree of affinity between them on the religious scale of importance, that, too, is based on the openly visible. And in contrast we have Akiva’s seeming reproach, that finally exposes to the light of day the hidden relationship that had been in the shadows throughout the narrative: “Mine and yours are hers.”

61 Ed. Hirshberg (Hibbur Yafe me-ha-Yeshu’ah [2]; the page numbers in following references, as well, are from this edition), p. 37.

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Akiva’s mate is presented in the exposition as standing at the head of the social hierarchy. Her father’s vast riches assure her of both social standing and the esteem of the religious establishment – if she will only agree to marry a renowned sage, as her father wants. But now, during the course of the story, upon her initiative, she descends the social ladder to its lowest rung, to the extent that the neighbor women take pity on her and offer her clothing to wear. Clothing undoubtedly plays an important symbolic role here, since it is a person’s outer mantle: the manner in which he presents himself, in clear sight of those around him. In the Rabbinic literature it frequently functions as a stage prop, as an expression of the “negative external forms,” as Frenkel puts this, in another context.62 Since it is in the realm of external impression, the garment has no true significance for anyone who adheres to the religious truth. This, then, enables us to understand the response by Akiva’s mate to her neighbors, “A righteous man knows the soul of his beast” – a verse that remained an enigma for many commentators,63 and, already in an early phase, was therefore exchanged by “A righteous man is concerned with the cause of the wretched” (Prov. 29:7).64 The neighbor women can understand this response as an expression of submission, self-degradation, and self-denial – but the reader is well aware of the profound intent underlying it. The righteous man, she tells them, is capable of seeing the Other as he really is, as a subject. He possesses the faculty of inner sight, that penetrates the outer display and gazes into the soul. Just as he sees the distress and needs of the beast, even though the latter cannot express this in words, so, too, he is cognizant of the woman’s inner connection to him, without her having to finely bedeck herself on his behalf. “In your world,” her refusal implies to her neighbors, “you 62 See Frenkel, Aggadic Narrative, pp. 301–2; cf. the comments by Posen, “Lie,” pp. 432–33. For literature on the representative role of clothing, see Rubin and Kosman, “Clothing,” p. 163 n. 32. 63 As regards what Friedman, “Retelling,” p. 20, says on the exchange of verses, see below, n. 154, in Appendix D. 64 See Appendix D. Incidentally, Ma’aseh Book, p. 118, offers an interesting interpretation, according to which the women neighbors of R. Akiva’s mate were concerned for her because they feared that he would understand the carelessness of her clothing as disparaging of his honor, and would therefore be offended. She accordingly answered them: “A righteous man knows the needs of his beast,” that is, the righteous man does need his wife to express her attitude to him by an ostentatious clothing show, and she was certain that Akiva would be aware of her respect for him, even when she was dressed in rags.

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need some outer cover to raise your esteem in the eyes of your husband, but Akiva and I ‘see’ each other ‘inside,’ and we have no need of impressive mantles. Akiva will know my worth, and the honor in which I hold him, even if I appear before him in rags,65 just as I was aware of his qualities when he was a simple shepherd.”

Stability and Mobility Now we can appreciate the centrality and power of the element of mobility in the narrative.66 Literary theory customarily distinguishes between an external event and an inner one;67 and events, whether external or internal, lead to change.68 The external event portrayed in a story frequently effects a transformation in the hero’s psyche, which is an inner change. Then, the narrator is faced with three possibilities: at times he enables the reader to become aware of the inner event by means of an external manifestation that is explicitly set forth in the narrative, such as a description of the character’s facial expression. Another possibility is that the inner event will not emerge from within the depictions of external happenings, but the narrator directly reports to the reader what occurs in the character’s mind. The crafted narrative in the Rabbinic literature generally adopts a third possibility, in which the narrator does not report to the reader, neither of an external manifestation of the inner event, nor of the inner event itself, but rather helps the reader (usually by various analogous means) to sense what is tak65 The righteous individual’s “knowing” is obviously not solely intellectual knowledge. In the Bible this term expresses both affection and willingness to help; see Zer-Kavod, Proverbs, p. 72 and n. 24. There is also the profoundly intimate sense of “knowing”; see Gen. 4:1: “Now the man knew his wife Eve”; see the statement by Seeligmann in n. 60, above. As regards the interpretation of the response by Akiva’s mate to the women neighbors, see also Aderet, “Story,” p. 125: “Just as the righteous man knows the needs of his beast, that toils with him day after day to bring forth bread from the earth, so, too, does my husband know to appreciate the one who toiled for him until he reached his exalted level” (his interpretation possibly assumes, as is explicit in the version of the Addition to Avot de-Rabbi Nathan, that R. Akiva’s mate also provided for his livelihood during the years of his studies). See also Greenberg, Akiva, p. 12, who interprets simply: “‘the righteous man knows’ – he will recognize me even without fine garments – this one knows what I suffered on his behalf.” Cf. Boyarin, Carnal Israel, p. 137 n. 8. 66 See also Frenkel, Studies, p. 113. 67 See Even, Dictionary, pp. 59–60. 68 Even, Dictionary, pp. 59–60.

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ing place in the character’s inner self. Consequently, the crafting of the movement in our narrative is highly sophisticated, and finely dovetails with the fashioning of the narrative’s general message. The external events in the narrative generate a tempestuous pendulum movement between Akiva’s development and what happens in his mate’s life. The woman’s steep descent from the heights of the hierarchical social ladder is matched by Akiva’s corresponding dizzying ascent from the bottom of the ladder to its greatest heights. Since, throughout the entire narrative, almost to its end, she is depicted as active, while Akiva is presented as passive, the reader gains the impression that the woman’s will is the engine driving all this pendulum movement of the social statuses. In other words, Akiva’s mate actively brings about a series of events, that effect the central change in the story, while Akiva acts in it only in a responsive role; for his part, some external factor is responsible for these events.69 The pendular movement of the story’s heroes between social statuses is offset by society, with its four focal points: the father, the old man, the neighbors, and the attendants. In contrast with the main characters, these seem stable, no mention is made of any significant external occurrence that changed their standing in the world. But specifically here is the element whose disclosure will clarify the story’s message. Upon taking a deeper look, the reader realizes that the stability of these secondary characters is external and tenuous, since the change revealed to us at the end occurs in them – in their inner attitude to the two heroes of the tale. Eventually, we learn that they are the characters who have undergone inner change, while for Akiva and his mate – who, in the external aspect of their lives, have experienced great change – there has been no inner turmoil or development. If we look at these secondary characters now, we find that they initially afforded the daughter of Ben Kalba Savua great honor, which changed to extreme disparagement after her betrothal to the shepherd; while they initially treated Akiva with total contempt, once he became head of the study hall, the honor they gave him knew no bounds. The reader, on the other hand, is keenly aware that the movement of change that Akiva and his mate undergo in the external plan of the 69 On the distinction between action and occurrence, see Even, Dictionary, p. 61. Concisely stated, an action is an event caused by the character himself, and an occurrence is an event that comes from the outside, to which the character merely reacts.

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plot (on the social-status ladder) makes no mark in their inner world, which is wholly infused with confidence and stability, despite all the undermining attempts by their environment. This dialectic appears openly at the juncture in which the women neighbors fear that Akiva, who has risen in the social hierarchy, will abandon his wife. The mate’s response to her neighbors clearly reveals her confidence that the inner cord binding her and Akiva (that is hidden from the eyes of the neighbors) has not been severed. They changed their initial opinion of her, and see her as a wretched woman, but Akiva’s attitude to her, that is not influenced by external factors such as money or social standing, remains stable. Thus, the narrative is fashioned as a sophisticated play between movement and stability. Finally, we learn that the turbulent movement of Akiva and his mate occurs only in the eyes of the external figures who watch them, but not in the pair’s inner reality. Furthermore, we now discern that the secondary characters, who are blind to the existence of the inner plane, also project their own positions on the main characters, to whom they ascribe movement and instability – traits that actually characterize the observers. This, in short, is a psychological and spiritual “Theory of Relativity” at its best.

Is This a Romantic Love Story? Now we can return to the question with which we began. Attributing the narrative to the love story genre present in Western culture since the twelfth century70 is certainly inappropriate, since this narrative is 70 The idea of romantic love, as was shown by de Rougemont, Love, is a Western development that was not widespread in the East. De Rougement places its initial development in the second half of the twelfth century, in southern France. See also Holtz, “Response” (incidentally, Malachi, “First Hebrew Novel,” is of the opinion that the first novel of love and chivalry translated into Hebrew was Amadeuis di Gallia, that had been published in Spain in the late fifteenth century, and first appeared in Hebrew translation in 1541). On the question of romance and its place among Eastern European Jewry, see Katz, “Halakha and Derush,” pp. 63–64 (in contrast with Ben-Sasson; see his response, p. 69). For the attitude of Italian Jewry to the topic during the Renaissance period, see Shulvass, Jewish Life; Woolf, “Elijah Capsali,” pp. 176–85; Stahl, “Love as a Factor”; for communities in the East, see Stahl, Family, pp. 160–64. It should be noted that this question arises anew in the Jewish educational system from time to time. Thus, e.g., in the 1960s rabbis were divided on the question of how Jewish education should relate to romantic love. Against the sweeping argu-

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not a classic tale of falling in love, that is based on the sublimation of intense sexual attraction that cannot be satisfied. The central characteristic feature of Western romantic love stories is that this love cannot be realized in a structured relationship, and consists solely of the couple’s fierce desire to be together, against all the obstacles that society places in their path.71 This narrative, however, contains no hint that the heroes aspire to be in each other’s arms. To the contrary, Barkai and Leon finely rephrase the proposal by Ben Kalba Savua’s daughter to Akiva: “If I agree to be close to you […] will you agree to be distant from me?”72 The relationship between Akiva and his mate is not dependent on desire, just as it is detached from money or social standing. Inner and hidden, it is based on “seeing” – and not on the need for or dependency upon the mate and what he/she can give her/him.73 The ability to give, and of sacrifice, originates in this “seeing.”74

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ment by Rabbi Ignaz Maybaum in praise of artists who depict romantic love (against Sigmund Freud’s “castrating” approach to the romantic in our lives), Rabbi Monford Harris, “Way of a Man,” categorically maintained that Judaism could not adapt itself to Western concepts of romance. Romance, as opposed to the Jewish concept of shelom bayit (domestic tranquility/harmony), enhances the place of lust, and generally imagines love objects that are to be found outside the marital context, and not within it. Similar questions recently arose once again in the trenchant debate between Israeli rabbis on how to interpret R. Kook’s position on this issue. See Dasberg, Uri, “Rav Kook’s Introduction,” and the response (op cit.) by R. Moshe Gantz. See the definition by Weissman, “Love,” p. 40: “Physical attraction plays a tremendous role in the process of falling in love. It is without logic, ‘sticky,’ allconsuming, and at times obsessive. Sometimes it occupies the individual in a way that prevents him from properly devoting himself to his everyday activity. This occupation with sexuality at times takes preference to the object itself. This is an egocentric process, quite self-centered and also ambivalent. It combines, on the other hand, with a delicate overestimation. It is enough for something to interfere with the force of the attraction for its to be replaced by hostility and destructiveness, which will consume the couple’s love.” Barkai and Leon, The Aggadic Tale, p. 23. Satlow, “One Who Loves,” concludes that in the world of the Rabbis the romantic dimension was missing from the spousal relationship. He argues that the most conspicuous element of this relationship in the midrashic literature is sexual attraction, without the nonmaterial aspect typical of romantic love, that was born from the inability to realize desire. I argue, against Satlow, that spiritual love is definitely present in this literature, but not in its romantic manifestation. The arguments raised by Abrams, Female Body, pp. 152–61, against Satlow could closely correspond to my reasoning, but Abrams does not distinguish between romantic and spiritual love – the distinction on which the entire current chapter is based. And indeed, the original meaning of korban, the Hebrew word for “sacrifice,”

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In terms of its fashioning, the narrative is built on an inner tension that ends with a denouement that overturns all.75 Throughout his reading the reader is suspicious of Akiva: Ben Kalba Savua’s daughter is portrayed, step after step, as someone of deteriorating economic and social standing – to which he does not react; when he hears the exchange between her and the old man – he sits in the study hall for an additional twelve years, and once again, we suspect that he concentrates on his own benefit, and does not “see” his mate. Once, however (at the end of line 19), he exclaims “Mine and yours are hers,” the reader’s attitude to Akiva is completely reversed, and all that came before is seen in a new light. Akiva returns to his city greatly honored, and his mate comes forth to greet him; here, too, the reader fears that when the attendants push her aside, Akiva will remain passive, as was depicted to now. But now Akiva stops the attendants and utters to them the sentence that overturns the entire narrative.76 Now the “punch line” is revealed: we understand that all of Akiva’s years of study were only a gift that he gave to his mate, since he identified this as her profound wish. This also explains the narrator’s use of the word “obey” (tzayet, in the original) when Akiva fulfilled her will when he went to study Torah.77 Only this new understanding of the earlier scenes in the narrative explain Akiva’s startling declaration that all his learning, and that of his students, “are hers.”78

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is “giving,” out of a sense of closeness (kirvah). See Licht, “Korban,” p. 225: “The word korban primarily means giving.” In similar fashion Erich Fromm contrasts the concept of spiritual love with romantic love, and defines the former: “If we mean by love a capacity for the experience of concern, responsibility, respect, and understanding of another person and the intense desire for that other person’s growth […]” (Fromm, Psychoanalysis and Religion, p. 87). On the denouement and reversal, see Perry, “Inverted Poem.” On the denouement in the Rabbinic narratives, see Baitner, “Yavneh’s Scholars,” p. 256. See above, n. 34. The root t ’’vj means compliance with an order, in both Aramaic and Hebrew. See Sokoloff, Babylonian Aramaic, pp. 957–58, s.v. “tvj ”. In the spirit of this understanding, it should be noted that while most of the versions read “On approaching him she fell on her face and kissed his feet,” the version of MS Vatican 130 of Ketubot (that Herschler, Ketubot, vol. 2, p. 81, n. 12, regards as more accurate) is: “He fell on his face, he kissed her feet, and people pushed him” – that is, it was Akiva who fell on his face and kissed his mate’s feet, and the attendants had difficulty in raising him up. Even if this is not the original version, we can ask how such a significant copyist’s mistake came into existence specifically in this context.

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It seems, therefore, that Zimmerman’s intuition was correct when he characterized this narrative as a one of mutual gift-giving; he was not right, however, when he underestimated the importance of the content of those gifts. Zimmerman thought that the cause behind the giving was the intense feeling of romantic love, while I argue the exact opposite: in my reading, the narrative presents the couple’s mutual giving as independent of romantic emotions, and resulted from a completely different type of relationship, that the narrator calls “seeing.”79 The cardinal difference between romantic love and “seeing” one’s fellow lies in the nature of the relationship: romantic love entails strong mutual dependency, while “seeing” is characterized by independence. A romantic relationship, like most types of interpersonal relationships, is external, since we usually are not sensitive enough to “see” the hidden plane of the other person, and our efforts are directed to satisfying our needs and objectifying the other person, as Erich Fromm finely described this: What is called love? Dependence, submission, and the inability to move away from the familiar “stable,” domination, possessiveness, and the craving for control are felt to be love; sexual greed and the inability to stand solitude are experienced as proof of intense capacity of love.80

A “seeing” relationship, in contrast, is typified by a great degree of sensitivity to the existence of the other partner, and by a high capacity for empathy, that establishes a different sort of relationship with him: not as an object for our use, but as a person of his own, as a subject. From this perspective, we should place the Torah in the center, as a spiritual symbol around which everything revolves, and without which there can be no relationship between the story’s heroes. This is the basic motive behind the heroic actions by Ben Kalba Savua’s daughter, and those of Akiva the shepherd. This Torah is not an external matter related to the degree of a person’s knowledge of the literary sources, but the inner, concealed trait of devotion and capability for sacrifice. The tale’s two heroes are blessed with this, and even identified it in each other, although those around them were totally unaware of its existence. The Torah, in its inner sense, is the motive force of the two 79 As we noted, my argument is supported by the unequivocal declaration by Satlow, “One Who Loves,” that the emotion of romantic love is totally absent from the Rabbinic sources (see also Satlow, p. 77). 80 Fromm, Psychoanalysis and Religion, p. 86.

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heroes in their extreme pendulum swings (from society’s perspective) and leads them to a sort of revolt against the petit bourgeoisie world; and it gives them the inner force that maintains their loyalty and stability, despite all the mighty waves that threaten to disturb the inner relationship they share. Since the other participants in our drama are blind to the concealed spiritual element that binds Akiva and his mate, they are incapable of understanding the special nature of the bond between them or of properly assessing its worth. Being so bold as to continue this train of thought, the subject of this narrative is not the love between Akiva and his mate, as it is usually presented,81 but the totally giving nature of spiritual love itself. In other words, it is not the couple’s feelings that are the heart of the story, but the hidden spiritual element that drives them, and even influences those around them. It is in the nature of this giving to expand to broader circles, that, thanks to Akiva’s social standing as the head of the study hall with thousands of students, reached the nation as a whole, and possibly even beyond it. In this respect, the bond between Akiva and his mate is, quite simply, the narrator’s model of spiritual love, that he uses to demonstrate such love’s force and influence, and to teach the reader the true meaning of “Torah.” What is new in this narrative is its radical perception of the concept of “Torah,” as a development and external manifestation of the unseen nucleus we called “seeing.” Torah that does not issue from this inner element is merely lip service, and is not worthy of the name.82 This approach is most prominently presented in the narrative by the placement of Akiva’s mate at the pinnacle of the spiritual ladder, as the one to whom the Torah belongs: the rabbi’s studies, and those of the students, all belong to her. Even though she might never have studied or read, her status is higher than that of the Torah scholars, since their Torah is only an outward manifestation of a hidden element, the 81 As it was understood already in the Talmud’s “renovated” version in Nedarim, that portrayed the tie between the two as romantic love; cf. Friedman, “Retelling,” pp. 21–22. Levine Katz, “Jerusalem,” p. 134, suggests that R. Akiva thought that “marriage must be based on love.” It is extremely difficult, however, to learn anything specific and cogent from the sources we possess (and from those that she collected) regarding R. Akiva’s inner world when we discuss him as a historical figure; thus, e.g., this narrative can teach us only of the spiritual world of its composers. 82 Torah that lacks inner content, and is solely external knowledge, is drawn into sharp focus in the depictions of the character of Doeg the Edomite. See Kalmin, “Doeg the Edomite.”

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“Torah” nucleus, that is present in this woman’s heart and nourishes the entire study hall. Among all those around her, only Akiva identifies what is in her heart. This ending of the narrative in line 19 (with “Leave her alone! Mine and yours are hers,” as argued above), consisting of Akiva’s dramatic call to his students, is therefore the moment when Akiva reveals what had been known only to the pair, what he had seen in her all the time, without uttering a word. This is, at the same time, both a personal declaration and a theological statement, on the meaning of serving the Lord, and on the spiritual component of the Torah, the profound essence of God’s word. It should be noted that the concluding scene of the narrative is not the happy end of modern romance literature and Hollywood films, in which the two heroes are in each other’s arms, detached from the world around them.83 The narrative ends with a completely different picture: the two heroes are surrounded by twenty-four thousand pupils, and the large crowd that has come to welcome R. Akiva. Their reunion takes place within the crowd, in everyone’s sight, in a situation of public and religious import. This is not a romantic scene of two individuals whose desire was realized after overcoming many external obstacles, but rather a spiritual meeting that occurs in the public arena and expresses the end of their many years of sacrifice for the sake of Torah study. Erich Fromm, once again, provides a fitting portrayal of spiritual love as that which spreads in ever-widening circles from individuals to the collective: Love is not primarily a relationship to a specific person; it is an attitude, an orientation of character which determines the relatedness of a person to the world as a whole, not toward one “object” of love. If a person loves only one other person and is indifferent to the rest of his fellow men, his love is not love but a symbiotic attachment, or an enlarged egotism.84

83 Cf. with, e.g., the poet’s ironical suggestion to the “wise lovers” that is the diametric opposite of what our narrative teaches: “Bolt the shutters; outside, it is cold, and / a wind, and storm is expected. A guest / will not arrive on such a night; / and if he comes, don’t admit him. / It’s late; and only frost blows through the world” (Zach, Against Parting, p. 12). See Kosman, “Clever Lovers.” 84 Fromm, Art of Loving, p. 46. On giving and on the concept of “sacrifice,” see Fromm, ibid., pp. 22–26; see also Kosman, “Sacrifice,” p. 234 n. 31.

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Against Boyarin’s Political Reading In this section, I will present an alternative to the reading proposed by Daniel Boyarin,85 who maintains that the extant version of the narrative is a product of the Babylonian “rabbinic culture” that, on the one hand, forcefully excluded the woman from Torah study, and, on the other, encouraged her, in every way possible, to aid her husband and male sons to devote themselves to this scholarly pursuit. Boyarin finds an emphasized patronizing, albeit also considerate and nonalienated, approach to the woman in the names of the narrative’s heroes, and in the intertextual allusions it incorporates. The name Rachel (that is absent from the extant version!) means ewe, and hints that the mate of Akiva the shepherd becomes his female sheep. The Nedarim version also states that they lived in a “heap of straw,” that is, a barn or granary, where animals of this type live. The shepherd-ewe relationship functions in all respects as an erotic relationship in the Biblical metaphor of the poor man’s ewe (I Sam. 12), in which the ewe is the poor man’s wife, who shares his bed with him. Boyarin likewise identifies a connection between the Akiva-daughter of Ben Kalba Savua tale and the Biblical text of the Jacob and Rachel narrative,86 since there, too, the heroine is named Rachel; the father opposes the relationship; Jacob must work as a shepherd to win her; and his name shares some letters with the hero of our narrative: bqiy (Yaakov [Jacob]-Akiva). Boyarin asserts that the Akiva-Rachel narrative is meant to aggrandize the narrator’s notion of the ideal woman. Who is this ideal woman? One who devotes herself to the affairs of mundane existence and enables her husband to study Torah. This model is important for the Babylonian narrator, because he wants to encourage Israelite women to devote their strength and energy to aid in male Torah study, while

85 Boyarin, Carnal Israel, pp. 134–66. Other objections to Boyarin’s understanding were offered by Cohen, Rereading Talmud, pp. 118–19; Ilan, Mine and Yours, p. 290 n. 54; and Friedman, “Retelling,” p. 22 n. 64. Valler, Women and Womenhood, p. 80, also rejects Boyarin’s view, from a completely different direction. She emphasizes the active aspect of the women in the collection of narratives in Ketubot in which this story is included, but does not examine the type of love of which it relates. 86 This connection is already evident in Lehmann’s version (Lehmann, Akiba, p. 10); on their meeting, see p. 11 (and p. 32); see p. 21: “Kalba Savua’s flocks and herds prospered under his [Akiva’s] care.”

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seeking to emphasize that a woman’s place is not in the study hall. She can realize her aspirations only by assisting the men in the family to become Torah scholars. Boyarin finds an allusion to this idea in the narrative in the basic structure of the “shepherd-ewe” relationship. Rachel’s greatness lies in her ability to transform Akiva into a real “shepherd,” a Talmudic sage who will herd and direct that ewe = woman. Boyarin finds support for his interpretation in the Talmud’s comment following the narrative in Ketubot. This addition seems to be the conclusion of the narrative: “The daughter of R. Akiva acted similarly to Ben Azzai [= her spouse]. This is an illustration of the proverb: Ewe follows ewe, a daughter’s acts are as those of her mother.”87 Even if, however, we agree that the elements that Boyarin tries to uncover at the bottom of the narrative are indeed present in it, they can be only one stratum, that reflects a realistic fact of the culture that produced it, and we cannot assume that this was the narrator’s intent. Not every clarification of the realistic background behind a narrative, even if it does a fine job of technical explication, can be thought to also expose its orientation or message. In other words, I believe that Boyarin’s interpretation is based on a methodological error. If we correctly identity it, we can see the woman’s inferior status in the narrative as a background datum, that is present in it like any other background datum from the culture of the Jewish communities of the time, especially in Babylonia,88 and not as part of the narrative’s spiritual message. Thus, we see that this narrative marginalizes the usual questions of status and hierarchy, and actually undermines the starting point of the discussion by Boyarin, who assumes that the narrator employs a hidden and manipulative power play. The first composer to formulate the Babylonian narrative, who shifted the motivation to study Torah

87 Other scholars’ critique of Boyarin’s interpretation should be stressed: several of the points that he raises have no basis in the narrative. Ben Kalba Savua’s daughter is not named “Rachel” in the Ketubot version, nor does the couple live in a barn. Additionally, this version does not hint of a romantic element in the relationship between Akiva and his mate, that does appear in the version in Nedarim. Boyarin’s theory is correct in its entirety only for the latter version, as is clear to him, as well. Conversely, he regards the postscript that follows the text in Ketubot as confirming his argument for the dominance of the shepherdewe relationship in the narrative. 88 As was observed by Boyarin, Carnal Israel, pp. 167–96.

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from the man to the woman, probably did so in accordance with the Babylonian reality,89 and not as part of the narrative’s message. According to my suggested reading, the narrative’s primary concern is to present both heroes as possessing the capability to give. There is no hint that the woman should waive her own being in favor of her husband’s studies, even though this datum – that only the male was intended for Torah study, while the woman was excluded from such activity – is embedded in the narrative’s realistic historical background, as an unassailable social datum at the time.90 The focal point of the narrative is its depiction of the two heroes as possessing the faculty of “seeing,” that is, their ability for intense inner communication, that leads them to a journey of self-sacrifice and giving. On this background, the “Torah” serves as an instrument, albeit a profoundly significant one, through which the gift is transferred from her to him, and as the reader learns at the end of the narrative, also from Akiva to his mate. In light of this understanding, the narrative can be presented in a manner that is the diametric opposite of Boyarin’s reading, namely: Akiva’s mate takes from him the role of shepherd, saw him, and directed him on his public way, through that same giving in secret. What Akiva taught his thousands of pupils was “hers” – hidden within her, as a concealed but fundamental nucleus. Accordingly, we see now that Boyarin’s interpretation of Akiva’s dramatic statement: “Mine and yours are hers,” as the male society’s lip-service honoring of the woman who consented to “self-abnegation,”91 voids the statement of all its revolutionary content. Actually, the woman’s conduct in the narrative bears no trace of “self-abnegation.” To the contrary, Akiva’s declaration expresses a Torah scholar’s sincere self-abnegation before a pure-hearted soul, and is his own “self-abnegation.”92 89 Although it should be noted that Boyarin’s claim of this narrative’s manipulative usage to encourage women to allow their husbands to study Torah is undoubtedly valid as regards several of the narrative’s later versions, that thought of this story as a clearly preachy tool for the “education” of women, such as that in Menorat ha-Ma’or. See above, n. 9; and below, in Appendix A, close to n. 125. 90 The author from that period obviously would not have thought to compose the opposite tale, in which Akiva would have sacrificed all his energy and strength to enable his mate to spend many years in the study hall! 91 Boyarin, Carnal Israel, p. 154. 92 As for the names shared by this narrative and that of Jacob and Rachel: the name “Rachel” is not mentioned in our version of Ketubot while “Akiva” sounds distinctly similar to “akev” (= humility). See above, chap. 1 n. 60.

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The paternalistic orientation that Boyarin attributes to the narrative, even if intended to praise a righteous woman who sacrificed herself on behalf of her mate’s study, should not, and by its very nature, cannot create a sensitive story of a deep and intimate bond that is forged between the man who studies and his devoted mate. It would be more appropriate for a narrator as conceived by Boyarin to tell a story that would teach us the tremendous reward awaiting that righteous woman, in this world or the next. Furthermore, such a narrator could have ended the narrative before this crucial line (no. 19), that is a counterweight to all that preceded it (as we showed above); he could been satisfied by showing that the splendid investment by Ben Kalba Savua’s daughter in her husband’s studies bore fruit, and that she was afforded great honor – being the wife of a great scholar – and perhaps adding in the end that even her father, who had opposed all, admitted his error and gave her and her mate half of his fortune. All this could have been told without any reference to Akiva’s “seeing” of his mate.93 And, if we accept Boyarin’s interpretation, then what about this woman’s “seeing” that that shepherd was “modest and noble”? According to this understanding, the narrator should have said that she saw Akiva’s outstanding scholarly potential. Boyarin argues – and this is indeed the Habad version (see Appendix A, below) – that the story is concerned with a unique “talent hunter,” who identified such a great scholarly potential in the shepherd. Boyarin states explicitly, following Frenkel: “It is self-understood and beyond question that what a Jewish wife desires is a husband learned in the Torah.”94 In my understanding, however, this narrative is not at all about the desire by Ben Kalba Savua’s daughter for a scholarly husband. Couldn’t she have found one, ready for the picking?95 Boyarin’s reliance upon Frenkel here, too, is inappropriate, since the latter wrote this96 only after convincingly showing the sensitive balancing of the story in this line, and after having concisely hinted at what we developed here. Frenkel argued that the narrator’s starting point is the difference between the “seeing” of Ben Kalba Savua’s

93 This argument is also directed against the premise advanced by Friedman, “Retelling,” p. 34. 94 Boyarin, Carnal Israel, p. 153. 95 See also what I wrote above in this chapter, at n. 21. 96 Frenkel, Studies, p. 113.

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daughter and her father’s blindness to Akiva’s sterling qualities, and he clearly stated that the narrator’s ideal was not a Torah scholar brimming with Torah knowledge, but rather: It is the human traits (that are not knowledge of the Torah) that determine her emotional attitude (in our time, we would say – her love) to him; and they themselves need no correction. Ignorance can be canceled, for it is possible to go to the study hall, but humility – in spite of ignorance – is the basis for everything.97

This is at complete variance with the picture of the Torah intellectual that Boyarin sees as the narrator’s ideal. In another place Frenkel unequivocally expresses his opinion on this issue, when, with a short allusion, he explains, in a manner similar to our above reading, the tremendous force of Akiva’s “Mine and yours are hers” statement: She receives the response to her statement to the women neighbors in his telling the attendants: “Mine and yours are hers.” R. Akiva does not specify what is “hers,” since this includes honor, the Torah, that is, all that the study hall represents. In this sentence R. Akiva expresses the spiritual partnership or, better, the spiritual unity between him and her. The external unbalance, as well, is expressed in this sentence. He and the thousands of students, says R. Akiva, have nothing, and everything belongs to her. The tangible external and material contrasts are as nothing in comparison with the perfect spiritual harmony.98

The center of the narrative is therefore the fine emotional balance between the two heroes – man and woman – that is founded on the profound intimate bond they share, that is hidden from the external eye. At the root of the relationship is the spiritual factor (“Torah”), that is not expressed outright, but which continually hovers above the tale, and that is the destination to which the narrator aims to lead the reader. This relationship crosses the entire narrative and unites all its parts, and the narrative tension is created around it, by means of the waves of opposition that threaten to upset it. The bond’s ability to withstand these waves reveals its sturdiness, and its insusceptibility to external factors. While, for Boyarin, the story revolves around the male-paternalistic message to the woman-ewe, who is intellectually led by the man, my reading finds in it a spiritual message of profound and intimate closeness between the male and the female, that emerges to the light of day despite that paternalistic Babylonian conception.99 97 Frenkel, Studies, p. 113. 98 Frenkel, Midrash and Agadah, vol. 2, p. 368. 99 This is also directed against Friedman, “Retelling,” p. 36, who, too, assumes that the narrative in Ketubot is based on the element of romantic love.

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In other words, I believe that this is a patently radical tale, that marginalizes the social and religious hierarchy in relation to the spiritual phenomenon. In brief, it originates in the idea that presence in the spiritual realm is independent of any external factor, whether money, status, or even gender identity. A person’s spiritual ranking is determined solely by his fidelity to the inner truth and his willingness to make sacrifices for it. Even if the social structure does not permit a woman to head a study hall, this says nothing concerning her ability to adhere to the spiritual truth, since the study hall, like other institutions, is a hierarchical organization constructed on external elements, while spiritual attributes come from the heart, within.100

Appendix A: On the Nature of Relationship between Akiva and His Mate in the Later Versions 1. The later versions of the narrative101 split into two independent directions: some emphasized the emotional element as a central component in the bond between the narrative’s two heroes, by means of various additions (apparently under the influence of the version in BT Nedarim 50a), while others completely omitted it. Thus, for example, we already find in Hibbur Yafe me-ha-Yeshu’ah (2) by Rabbenu Nissim, at the end of the Geonic period, an added embellishment that strengthens the romantic orientation, with Ben Kalba Savua’s daughter described as “shapely and beautiful” (p. 37). An early, and very free, Hebrew translation of this work102 adds here (Hibbur Yafe me-ha-Yeshu’ah (1), fol. 16b): “Ben Kalba Savua had a beautiful and comely daughter, and she loved R. Akiva.”

100 I wish to conclude this discussion by noting that I do not accept the derogatory tone implicit in the comments by many scholars who indicated the text’s tortuous path, from the Land of Israel sources to its Babylonian fashioning (see the observation by Friedman, “Retelling,” p. 105). Historically speaking, this narrative is less original than its early Land of Israel versions (on the air of originality of the Land of Israel versions as a whole, see Friedman, “Historical Aggadah,” p. 121 n. 6). In terms, however, of its literary fashioning, it greatly exceeds the level of its Land of Israel counterparts. See also chap. 3, n. 47. 101 For a substantial (albeit not entirely complete) list of these versions, see BinGorion, Mimekor Yisrael, pp. 131–32. 102 See the editor’s note in Nissim, Hibbur Yafe me-ha-Yeshu’ah (2), p. 39 n. 3; p. 46.

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The Sefer ha-Ma’asiyot version,103 however, makes no mention of the beauty of Ben Kalba Savua’s daughter or of her love for Akiva; instead, we find a matter-of-fact report of a sort of “contract” sealed with an oath: When Ben Kalba Savua’s daughter saw R. Akiva, she said to him: Come and swear to me that you will read in the Torah. He swore to her. Once he swore to her, she went and was betrothed to him, without her father and mother’s knowledge.

And, in even more striking contrast to the “romantic” versions, Avot de-Rabbi Nathan, whose version is the most “scholarly,”104 explicitly adds the woman’s considerations, that lack any sentiment: His daughter saw that he was the most modest of all the shepherds of her father’s house. She said, “This one is fit to be a teacher in Israel and have Torah [teachings] called after his name.” She went and was betrothed to him secretly.105

We may surmise that the selection of one or the other of the options – the “romantic” or the “studious” – was made in accordance with the target audience of the narrative. Narrators who directed it to the male study hall downplayed the romantic elements present in its opening scene; while narrators who wrote for the masses (who were mainly women) stressed its emotional components and cast the tale in a romantic mold. This was taken to an extreme by Joseph Shabbetai Farhi in the opening scene in Oseh Pele (that was undoubtedly meant for women):106 103 Gaster, Ma’aseh Book, pp. 106–8. It is noteworthy that Gaster’s version is completely identical to that of MS Jerusalem (JNUL 1970) as regards this narrative. See Kushelevsky, “Sefer ha-Ma’asiyyot.” 104 This addition, following the ancient tradition told of Hillel and of R. Akiva himself, presents R. Akiva’s mate as “earning wages from her fellow women, eating and drinking from half of her earnings, and sending the other half to R. Akiva, who was learning Torah from R. Eliezer and R. Joshua” (ed. Schechter, p. 163). 105 Addition to Avot de-Rabbi Nathan, p. 163. The above difficulty applies to this interpretive orientation: why did she have to initiate a personal relationship with Akiva, when she could have enlisted her father to aid him to go to the study hall, without any personal commitment on her part? Shazal, Biography, swings between and attempts to incorporate the romantic and the rational directions. The solution he offers presents all the suitors of Ben Kalba Savua’s daughter as morally reprehensible. Since she sought a mate for herself, and found that Akiva was a worthy individual, she proposed that he betroth her. 106 See below, Appendix D, n. 155. It should be mentioned that the version of Segal, Ko Asu, pp. 105–12, as well, primarily emphasizes the motif of learning present in the relationship between the two (and the mention of Rachel being a beautiful girl appears there only incidentally), even though it is not directed to those in the study hall. This is undoubtedly so because the book was intended

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Ben Kalba Savua had a beautiful and comely daughter. When she saw R. Akiva, his innocence and his uprightness, love entered her heart. She said to him: “I love you, take me for your wife.”

Thus, the versions of the narrative changed their tune in accordance with their audience. For example, a contemporary version written by S. Skulski,107 whose target audience was modern Orthodox (but not ultra-Orthodox) youth, for whom love and romance are of great importance, noticeably highlights the emotional element, and portrays Ben Kalba Savua’s daughter as follows: Beautiful as the sun shining, wise as one of the daughters of the renowned sages, and good-hearted. Tall as a palm tree and thin, with her charming slightly elongated face and almond eyes that look softly at every person, as if dreaming a good dream. And the two braids of her black hair, with its silky sheen, come down to her ankles – such a one was Rachel, the fairest of the daughters of Jerusalem.108

Skulski spares no superlatives in his depiction of the lovers’ emotions, as well: Rachel saw Akiva the shepherd and found him of fine character, of polite mien, and her heart beat within her […] Akiva, too, was aware that his master’s daughter favored him, and upon his return to the sheepfold he was struck by his feelings for her.109 for schoolchildren, with the aim (as the author stresses, p. 8) of providing “spiritual food,” so that “the legends will have an educational influence on the children” (p. 7). The only educational interest that the author finds in our narrative is “the fulfillment of the commandment of Torah study, out of love and devotion” (p. 222, in “Reflections and Comments”). See also Chovav, “Yocheved Segal.” On Farhi and the editions of Oseh Pele, see Elstein, “Prays for the Rains,” p. 66 and n. 1a. 107 Skulski, Legends, p. 113. I am indebted to Dr. Joseph Bamberger for drawing my attention to this version. 108 The writer Ben Yehudah Shazal, Biography, p. 81, gives a similar description. He, too, following moving descriptions of her comeliness, stresses that “her beauty was matched by her righteousness.” Raz, Love, p. 4, however, goes even further, and claims – in a quite contemporary spirit – that Rachel was both beautiful and educated. 109 Skulski, Legends, p. 15. This addition, that reveals to the reader Akiva’s fierce emotions, appears in many late versions. See, e.g., Zuri, Rabbi Akiva, p. 3; Efrati, Rabbi Akiva, p. 13. Shazal, Biography, pp. 84–85 provides an eloquent depiction of Akiva’s declaration of his love, while Raz, Love, pp. 3–4, also finds a suitable explanation for this phenomenon, which is exceptional in the world of the Rabbis: “Rachel undoubtedly charmed Akiva, the shepherd, and he was in love with her deep in his heart. We must remember that at that time he was far removed from any thought of studies.” That is, if Akiva had been a Torah scholar from the outset, he could not have been enthralled by the charms of his master’s daughter. This happened only because, at that time, Akiva was devoid of any religious teachings.

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In contrast, a version disseminated by the ultra-Orthodox “Center of the Habad Association Youth” lacks any description of the beauty of Akiva’s mate. The narrator, R. Menahem Brod, merely states that she was “graced with all the good attributes.” Along with its minimizing of the romantic components, this version also contains an important addition: Rachel discovered that Akiva had a “sharp and deep mind, and that he understands matters better than others.”110 Similar to this Habad formulation,111 some went into even greater detail of Akiva’s qualities: With her discerning eye she [= Rachel] realized that Akiva is blessed with unique character traits: his heart was that of a warm Jew, loving his people and his land, he had a sharp intellect, and a discerning eye.112

Intererestingly, most of the versions that added descriptions of physical beauty did so only for the female partner. Skulski, for example, assumed that the romantic portrayal had to praise Rachel’s beauty, while he said only of Akiva that he was “of fine character, of polite mien.” Surprising in its daring, however, is the depiction by Micha Joseph Berdyczewski (Bin-Gorion), who had no qualms about presenting a “feminist” version of our tale, and who described Akiva’s beauty, and not just Rachel’s. In his version, when Rachel met Akiva, “his [handsome] appearance found favor with her, and his innocence captured her heart.”113 For comparison’s sake, Joseph Nedava paints a completely different picture. He assumes that the very underplaying of Akiva’s beauty sings the praises of his mate, who paid no attention to such external matters: What did Rachel, the spoiled rich girl, see in him? R. Akiva is depicted as tall, bearded, and bald when he became known. The sources, however, do not mention that he was handsome, like R. Johanan or R. Abbahu. We learn from this how wonderful was Rachel his wife.114

While Nedava is careful in his characterization, saying that R. Akiva’s great ugliness was revealed only in the future, “when he became known,” and we do not know for a certainty if he was so homely when he met his mate, Simcha Raz has no doubts:

110 111 112 113 114

Brod, Water and Torah, the beginning of the story “The Water and the Torah.” Cf. Segal, Ko Asu, p. 106; Nedava, Rabbi Akiva, p. 24. Efrati, Rabbi Akiva, p. 12. Bin-Gorion, Paths of Legend, p. 161. Nedava, Rabbi Akiva, p. 19.

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Akiva was clumsy […] and bald. He was not especially handsome, but Rachel was perceptive. She realized […] that this bald and clumsy man had great abilities and a refined soul.115

This scene fired the imagination of the narrators, but also presented them with a certain difficulty: how did a girl from a traditional family find the courage to reveal her love for her soul mate? Some authors regarded this to be an unconventional act, the consequence of her ecstasy that knew no bounds. Thus, for example, Efrati’s presentation: “One day Rachel could no longer rein in her spirit, and the die was cast. She went up to him and told him […].” Others saw the necessity for an appropriate romantic atmosphere in order to explain such a unique situation, in which a woman asks a man to marry her (those versions usually do not view this as an offer of betrothal, but as one for marriage). Raz accordingly teaches us that their meeting was “in the springtime, in the period between Passover and Shavuot,” that is, a special period, when spring is in the air and encourages such bonds.116 Shazal answers this question differently, as he tells us of the gradual manner in which the relationship came into being. In the first phase, they only exchanged looks, that said everything: Love will not speak in the language of words, but in the language of the hearts, and as face answers to face in water, so the lover speaks to his lover. So, too, Rachel’s lips clearly spoke: her love blazed a bath through her eyelids, for her looks shot fiery flames deep into R. Akiva’s heart and captivated him.117

Most surprising, however, is the fact that historians and scholars of the Rabbinic period occasionally confused these later versions with the original version in the Talmud. Thus, for example, the biographer of the world of the Talmudic sages, Aaron Hyman, went so far as to write: “When he tended the flock of the rich Ben Kalba Savua, and his beautiful daughter named Rachel saw blessing in this shepherd, and that he was modest and noble, she became ensnared by love, and from her high station she revealed to him her love for him.”118 Hyman himself seemed a bit embarrassed by writing this, and felt the need to apologize for his sentimental prose: “Although we are not writing love stories, 115 Raz, Love, p. 3. See also, on the relationship between ugliness and wisdom in the Rabbinic literature: Kosman, Women’s Tractate, pp. 115–21. 116 Raz, Love, p. 3. 117 Shazal, Biography, pp. 83–84. 118 Hyman, Toldoth, vol. 3, p. 989. In contrast, see also the depiction of Weiss, Dor Dor we-Dorshaw, p. 97, who was more cautious.

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we can imagine how the daughter of the greatest man among his people […] resolved to abandon all her honor.” Another scholar, Jacob Samuel Zuri, offered a psychological explanation for this exceptional case of falling in love: he maintains that Akiva had a keen aesthetic sense, and therefore by his being naturally inclined to be moved by beauty and attracted by the charm of loveliness and tenderness […] he became attached to Rachel […] In her refined femininity, her noble attributes, the common man found […] balm and rest for his longings.119

2. The narrators of several of the tale’s versions were troubled by the question, why this rich woman did not choose someone of her own class – the scion of a wealthy family, or a sage? These narrators gave different answers. Some thought that “it was very likely that she was repelled by the life of luxury and pleasure […] of the aristocracy.”120 Shazal offered a different response: all of Rachel’s suitors from the upper classes were empty individuals. He described these suitors as the sons of Zion, from the wealthy of the time, and in their unassailable pride they took account of none, and they deemed it contemptible to speak with anyone inferior to themselves. They fed on the wind all the day, they were free with their lust and desired many women, and they gave them their vigor. Rachel saw the iniquity of her contemporaries; she observed and loathed them, saying to herself, Shall I choose the friend of my youth from among my proud contemporaries?121

We should understand from the nature of the hints scattered about by Shazal that the heroine of the story refused all the previous matches, suspecting that all these young men would not be faithful to her as the only wife, and would take additional wives, as well. Since they were inclined “to follow their hearts and their eyes, to wear fine clothes and jewelry, to ride in fine chariots harnessed to steeds in the streets of the city, to drink from fountains of wine and anoint their heads with oils, to take many wives, and disturb the tranquility of their homes with jealousy and enmity,” Rachel says to herself: “shall I choose for myself one from among this treacherous generation, men who cannot be trusted, and have my choice betray me like all those who break faith 119 Zuri, Rabbi Akiva, p. 3. For possible support of Zuri’s surmise of R. Akiva’s singular attitude to beauty and to “appeal, charm, and softness,” see Levine Katz, “Jerusalem,” pp. 131–34. 120 Raz, Love, p. 3. 121 Shazal, Biography, p. 82.

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with their partner, their wife, to take other wives to be my rivals and bring death upon me.”122 This literary solution is apparently already present – albeit in an infinitely less exaggerated fashion – in the Addition to Avot de-Rabbi Nathan, that emphasized that those who came to betroth Rachel were “eminent and wealthy.” Accordingly, she obviously did not find among them a man like Akiva who would consent to devote his life to study Torah. Lehmann leads the plot in the same direction, when he tells of a friend of Kalba Savua, Papus, who was meant to marry Rachel, but whose views were those of a modern and liberal maskil, who sought to combine the values of Judaism with the fine ones of Rome.123 When Rachel heard this, she vigorously protested against such “maskil” opinions: “We, too, will find our future salvation in the careful observance of God’s teachings.”124 Papus, on his part, responds to her protest with a stinging remark that includes a maskil manifesto, this time, relating to women’s status: “I see you are very zealous about the teachings from which your sex is excluded!”125 She answers this “with spirit”: “Even if I cannot devote myself to the study of the oral law, yet we women have the great privilege of influencing our menfolk and of training our children in its study.” Following this dispute, the match with Papus is no longer a possibility, and then Rachel thinks of that sterling shepherd Akiva who came (wonder of wonders: at the exact same moment) to work for her father as a supervisor of the other simple shepherds. Rachel and Akiva’s first looks, from the very beginning of their meeting each other, tell all that will occur later.126 Lehmann’s version does not ignore a description of Rachel’s pulchritude, but this portrayal remains quite marginal, and does not paint 122 Shazal, Biography, p. 82. 123 Lehmann, Akiba, pp. 13ff., puts these words in his mouth: “I would rather die than serve Mercury. But there are thousands of other things where we can go our own separate ways. We must hold fast to our faith in the One God. For the rest we must become Romans.” He continues: “Their philosophers reject the worship of idols, as we do. […] One who has accepted the ideal truths of these great thinkers can adapt himself to any situation in life; he is the only free man. he can distinguish the outer form from the inner reality. Thus I want to retain for my people our essential belief in the One God. For the rest everyone must adjust his thoughts and actions to the conditions” (pp. 15–16). 124 Lehmann, Akiba, p. 15. 125 In an allusion to the view of R. Eliezer ben Hyrcanus in M Sotah 3:4: “Any man who teaches his daughter Torah teaches her licentiousness.” 126 Lehmann, Akiba, p. 11.

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the tale in romantic colors. Between the two categories into which the later versions fall, Lehmann’s belongs to the “learned” group, that is not concerned with sentiment, and sees the bond between Akiva and his mate as ideological. According to Lehmann, Rachel finds that Akiva is a kindred spirit mainly because his nationalistic spirit matches her nationalist and religious positions. His hated of Torah scholars127 does not ensue from the frivolousness of an ignoramus. To the contrary, it originates in his concern for the people as a whole. Akiva vigorously protests to Rachel against the seclusive policy of the sages, who are so occupied with the superfluous minutiae of the purity laws that even the spit of an am ha-aretz (= the ignorant) defiles them (see M Tohorot 10:6), and thereby erect a barrier between them and the common people.128 Rachel finally succeeds in persuading the passionate youth that such thoughts do not represent haughtiness by the sages, and that if he would only learn the Torah he would realize this. Akiva, of course, is convinced, with the ensuing chain of events with which we are familiar. Lehmann seriously obscures Ben Kalba Savua’s daughter’s direct and daring address in the Talmudic source, in which she proposes that Akiva marry her, since it was his understanding that this opposed the social norms of the religious youth to which the story was directed. In his version, Rachel initially only asked Akiva to study Torah, with him responding that such a step would force him to leave his source of livelihood.129 Only afterwards do the two begin to think of each other,130 and in an additional chance encounter, in which Akiva turns to Rachel, he tells her of his thoughts: “If I could find a wife who would stand loyally and lovingly at my side I would not mind the privations of daily life, I would devote myself gladly and eagerly to the study of God’s teachings,” and adds a transparent hint: “But she must be like you, mistress. Yet I do not dare to lift my eyes to you.” Only then does Rachel reply: “If I knew that you will become a teacher in Israel I would not say no to your wooing.”131 127 See above, n. 12. 128 “They are arrogant; they shut themselves away from the common folk as though they were moulded of better clay than we are” (p. 21). Lehmann’s interpretation is based on the writings of the Rishonim (medieval authorities); see, e.g., Tosafot ha-Rosh on Ketubot 62b, s.v. “De-Havah Tzeni’a.” 129 Lehmann, Akiba, pp. 23–24. 130 Lehmann, Akiba, pp. 25–26. 131 Lehmann, Akiba, pp. 29–30.

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Lehmann also adds to the narrative a scene especially appropriate for a young religious Jewish woman: Akiva, whom this conversation fills with warm feelings for Rachel, promises to go study, and then addresses her in an emotional outburst: “‘Rachel, you would …’ He tried to take her hand.” This act, although fitting for someone who is uneducated, clashes with Rachel’s world of halakhic values, and she quickly adds the proviso: “‘Speak to my father,’ she said, and hurried off.”132 A more ancient “learned” version is that of Sefer ha-Ma’asiyot. According to this version, only considerably after she had been betrothed to Akiva the shepherd did someone, who was a Torah scholar and fitting to be her husband, come to betroth her, but it was too late.133

Appendix B: On the Character of Ben Kalba Savua in the Later Versions As I alluded above, we may conclude from what the later narrators added or deleted that many were troubled by the negative presentation of the character of the father, Ben Kalba Savua.134 Their additions or omissions seek to refine his character, and cast it in a light different from that of the original Talmudic narrative. These alterations might also have been caused by the constant familiarity with various paternalistic figures in everyday life in the Jewish communities, that were the main audiences of the story throughout history. The immediate and conspicuous reason, however, for the need to revamp the character of Ben Kalba Savua was without question the striking contradiction be132 Lehmann, Akiba, p. 30. 133 “She went and was betrothed to him [i.e., Akiva], without the knowledge of her father and her mother. Later, one of the great ones of the generation came to betroth her, [and] she said: ‘I am betrothed’” (Gaster, Exempla of the Rabbis, para. 147, p. 106 [Hebrew section; the English rendition, pp. 88–89, is significantly abridged]), and so what had initially been concealed became common knowledge. 134 On whether his name was “Ben Kalba Savua” or “Kalba Savua,” see above, n. 7. At any rate, if this name is detached from its other contexts in the Rabbinic literature, it definitely has a negative ring in this narrative. As Boyarin puts it, “Rachel’s father, the quintessential fat cat, also has an emblemic name in this text, ‘Satisfied Dog’” (Boyarin, Carnal Israel, p. 151 n. 31). On a similar Roman name, see Halevi, Historical-Biographical, pp. 375–76, n. 1. On Kalba Savua from a historical viewpoint, see the sources listed by Yisraeli-Taran, Legends, p. 110 n. 12.

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tween the negative manner in which the tale presents him, on the one hand, and, on the other, his depiction in different midrashic sources, that portray him as a generous benefactor who gave freely to charity. Thus, already in Avot de-Rabbi Nathan: And why was he called Ben Kalba Savua? Because whoever entered his house as hungry as a dog [kelev] would leave his house sated [savua]. When the Roman emperor Vespasian came to destroy Jerusalem, the Zealots sought to destroy all that bounty by fire. Ben Kalba Savua said to them: “Why are you destroying the city, and you seek to burn all that bounty by fire? Wait until I go in and see what I have within the house.” He went and he found that he had sufficient food for twenty-two years of meals for each person in Jerusalem. He immediately commanded, and they heaped, sorted, winnowed, kneaded, and baked, and prepared food for twenty-two years for each person in Jerusalem, and they were unaware of this.135

Additionally, the Palestinian Talmud cites the dictum by R. Levi: “A genealogy was found in Jerusalem, in which it was written […] Ben Kalba Savua was descended from Caleb [son of Jephunneh].”136 The later narrators therefore wanted to efface the negative impression of the father left by the original narrative.137 Thus, for instance, Sefer ha-Ma’asiyot is critical of Akiva the shepherd (at length), while it greatly moderates Ben Kalba Savua’s reactions when he learns the identity of his future son-in-law. This version has Ben Kalba Savua saying: “I had an illiterate shepherd, an ignoramus, stupid, a gentile in all respects, who does not know how to recite Grace after Meals” (p. 108); unlike the original Talmudic narrative, that states that Ben Kalba Savua gave Akiva half his wealth only when he learned of the latter’s greatness in Torah, here he declares, when his vow is annulled, that “if he [= Akiva] had known only the Grace after Meals, I would have given him half of my wealth.” This declaration reveals his generosity, and especially highlights his love of Torah. We realize that Ben Kalba Savua regards even such a minor matter as familiarity with Grace after Meals as sufficient to receive half of his fortune. And his response upon learning of Akiva’s greatness in Torah is accompanied by the following tab-

135 Avot de-Rabbi Nathan, version A, chap. 6, p. 32 (trans.: pp. 45–46; see BT Gittin 56a. 136 PT Taanit 4,2; 67d. 137 See also Aminoff, Rabbi Akiva, p. 24, who already formulates this as a didactic question: “This passage [i.e., the passage from BT Gittin referenced above, n. 135] somewhat changes our opinion of Ben Kalba Savua. It seems that he was not an intrinsically bad person, and he did not dispossess his daughter out of stinginess. Why, then, did he do so?”

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leau: “He immediately stood and kissed him on his head, he kissed his mouth and his eyes, and he gave thanks and praise to the Holy One, blessed be He.” The details are of importance here: not kissing the feet, but the head, the place of wisdom;138 kissing the mouth, that speaks words of wisdom;139 and kissing the eyes, that read and learn, and are also a vessel for imparting wisdom.140 The narrator does not state at the end of the scene that Ben Kalba Savua gives Akiva half of his wealth. He does not see fit to mention such a material detail; it suffices to relate that Ben Kalba Savua gives thanks to God, out of his great joy for the tremendous spiritual boon he has been granted. These small changes teach us what the later narrator found troubling in the early version. It is noteworthy that the author of Sefer ha-Ma’asiyot, out of his high esteem for Ben Kalba Savua, also reversed the order of events, and places his meeting with R. Akiva at the center of the story, before Akiva’s meeting with his mate. To further reinforce the focus on Ben Kalba Savua, at the expense of his daughter, he adds that Ben Kalba Savua learns of his daughter’s betrothal to Akiva only after “one of the great ones of the generation came to betroth her” – and she is forced to (unwillingly) tell him that she is already betrothed to Akiva.141 138 On the head as symbolizing wisdom, see already in the Bible, Eccl. 2:14: “A wise man has his eyes in his head”; and in the midrash, Eccl. Rabbah 2:5: “‘A wise man has his eyes in his head’ – this is a Torah scholar who is conversant with what he has learned.” And likewise in world symbolism, in which the head is usually deemed to be the part that leads the body, and that frequently symbolizes the illumination of thought that leads the body, that is in darkness; see Chevalier and Gheerbrant, Dictionary, pp. 476–78. 139 On the mouth and its function during Torah study. see Kosman, “Breath,” and esp. p. 121. 140 The Sanhedrin, for example, in Rabbinic terminology is called “the eyes of the congregation.” See Bacher, Amoraei, 2/2, p. 187 n. 2. 141 Lehmann, Akiba, maintains that the main reason for Kalba Savua’s battling his daughter’s forming a relationship with Akiva was a sincere desire to find a Torah scholar husband for his daughter. Lehmann describes Kalba Savua’s suffering caused by the prolonged separation from his daughter as tragic, and ensuing from the stubbornness of one who adhered to the truth. According to this interpretation, the father, unlike his daughter, was convinced that Akiva would not succeed in studying. Thus, each continued to cleave to what seemed to him or her to be the truth. Only after the fact did it become evident that the daughter was right and her father wrong, and then the narrative comes full circle, with its happy end. The father admits: “My daughter […] You saw the future better than I did. Forgive me because my hardheartedness has caused you so much pain and suffering” (Lehmann, Akiba, p. 72; see p. 71, his tragic description of Kalba Savua in his old age).

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This exaggeration of Ben Kalba Savua’s importance harms the very heart of the narrative. If Ben Kalba Savua was right in his opposition to Akiva as a son-in-law, and if his intentions are so sincere, this considerably detracts from the worth of his daughter’s daring act. Additionally, if he is such a great individual of such sterling qualities, why was he unable to correctly assess the illiterate shepherd’s ability, and how did his young and inexperienced daughter knew better than he, presumably solely because of the romantic and mad love that had confused her. The Addition to Avot de-Rabbi Nathan contains an emendation to the closing scene that aims to enhance Ben Kalba Savua’s image. This version relates that after R. Akiva disclosed to Ben Kalba Savua that he was his son-in-law, and gave him a special sign to convince him that this was not a deception, immediately “he [Ben Kalba Savua] stood, fell on his face, hugged and kissed him, and said: ‘Happy are you, my daughter, that you have loved such a righteous one, and have inherited this world and the World to Come.’ He applied to her the verse [Prov. 31:30]: ‘Grace is deceptive, beauty is illusory; it is for her fear of the Lord that a woman is to be praised.’”142 The narrator could not rest until he introduced into the ending an additional minor, but highly significant, emendation: “He immediately gave R. Akiva all his possessions.” The narrator is therefore telling us: you were wrong if you imagined for a moment, at the beginning of the tale, that financial matters and status are all that filled Ben Kalba Savua’s mind – since he was now willing to endure a life of poverty and hardship, and give his son-in-law all his possessions, all at once, for, to him, the love of Torah was of overweening importance.143

142 Addition to Avot de-Rabbi Nathan, p. 163. 143 Lehmann’s is the only version that dares to present Akiva’s thoughts as directed to Kalba Savua’s money. According to Lehmann, after the betrothal scene, Akiva thinks to himself: “All that he saw belonged to Kalba Savua, and it would become his, who now had nothing!” (Lehmann, Akiba, p. 31)

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Appendix C: On the Character of “That Old Man” in the Later Versions “That old man” in the BT Ketubot version, whose identification with the prophet Elijah is discussed by the later commentators,144 is clearly presented in BT Nedarim as “that wicked man.”145 Many later versions elected to present him as a neutral or evil-hearted character. He appears in the Addition to Avot de-Rabbi Nathan and in Sefer ha-Ma’asiyot146 as a “lame person” who lived in her neighborhood. In Oseh Pele by Joseph Shabbetai Farhi,147 he is simply called “one person who would curse his wife.” Even more extreme was the Ma’aseh Book, that turned him into a woman, and related that it was an “old woman” who made these harsh comments to Ben Kalba Savua’s daughter.148 As regards the wording of the old man’s message, the following is the Sefer ha-Ma’asiyot version: A lame person lived in her neighborhood and was grieved by this. He said, See this silly woman, who is the daughter of the rich. Her hair has turned white, and she sits and saves herself for a shepherd, who does not even know Grace after Meals.149

The old man’s words in this version also stress the couple’s lack of sexual activity (“saves herself”).

144 See above, nn. 47, 48. 145 In the Nedarim version, Elijah appears as well, in the first scene in the barn, and this character seems to have split, into an “angelic” part and a “wicked” one. 146 Gaster, Ma’aseh Book, p. 106. 147 Oseh Pele, p. 121. 148 A basis for this might possibly be found in one of the Talmud manuscript versions. On our doubts regarding the version of MS Leningrad-Firkovich, where the writing is indistinct, see Herschler, Ketubot, p. 80 n. 87. In, however, the continuation, in the response by Akiva’s mate to this provocation, the text reads: “She said hl hrmX [to her],” and not “She said hyl hrmX [to him],” as in all the other versions. (Herschler does not mention the Ma’aseh Book version, which could have supported his premise). 149 Gaster, Ma’aseh Book, pp. 106–7.

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Appendix D: On the Conversation with the Women Neighbors in the Later Versions The conversation between Akiva’s mate and the women neighbors in the later versions suffered more from numerous corruptions than any other scene in the narrative. This conversation had become incomprehensible already in the Talmudic version in Nedarim, and it is said that “that wicked man” mentioned earlier (in R. Akiva’s first return) now asks the heroine: “And where are you going?”, to which she responds: “A righteous man knows the needs of his beast.” The Addition to Avot de-Rabbi Nathan150 explains this unyielding version, with an expansion in which the wicked man tells her: “I wonder if R. Akiva will marry you,” to which she responds: “Fool! Will one who is like the ministering angels deny the poverty of the daughter of the rich, who is hired out to her fellows and sends [money] for him to his teacher’s house?” According to this version, Akiva’s mate lived in her mother’s house, was “hired out to her fellows” for her livelihood, and sent half of her wages to the study hall. This would seem to be a feminine copy of the masculine narratives of sages who earned their livelihood with difficulty, and gave half of their wages to the study hall guard, or spent it on Torah study.151 The Oseh Pele version places the conversation with the women neighbors in a context different from that in the original. In this version, when R. Akiva comes with his students the second time, the townspeople did not know the identity of the rabbi who came to them, only that he was an important rabbi, “and the elders of the city became greatly agitated when they heard [that he had come] and they went forth to greet him with great honor.” Akiva’s mate, however, knew who had come, since he had sent to inform her. Accordingly, “she desired to go to him, but she had nothing to wear beside torn clothes.”152 That is to say, according to this version, it was R. Akiva who initiated her coming out to greet him, by having her informed of his arrival. Her 150 Which incidentally adds this, as a separate scene distinct from that of the heroine’s clothing conversation with her female neighbors; while, on the other hand, it omits Akiva’s second return, and everything is ordered as the one and only time that R. Akiva returned home. This is also the version of Gaster, Ma’aseh Book, pp. 107–8. 151 As related in Avot de-Rabbi Nathan, p. 29. On this motif, see Elbaum, “Models,” pp. 72–74. 152 In the Addition to Avot de-Rabbi Nathan, the wording is “wearing rags.”

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neighbors, however, did not know that she was going forth to meet her mate. They thought that she, like them, was going out to an anonymous great Torah sage, and in his honor they suggested that she borrow fine clothing from them. She responded to this, according to the Oseh Pele version, by citing the verse: “A righteous man is concerned with the cause of the wretched” (Prov. 29:7). That is, the righteous man does not need a change of wardrobe, since he is aware of the distress of those of modest means. For the neighbors, he was an anonymous righteous man, while for Ben Kalba Savua’s daughter, this was the intimate righteous man who knew, not only the “cause of the wretched,” in generally, but her individual abject circumstances, that she was isolated from her neighbors and her surroundings by their lack of comprehension.153 It also is noteworthy that the replacement of the original verse: “A righteous man knows the needs of his beast” by “A righteous man is concerned with the cause of the wretched” expresses the unease felt by the later narrators at the comparison of Akiva’s mate with his beast. This change first appears in the extant versions in Hibbur Yafe meha-Yeshu’ah by Rabbenu Nissim,154 that apparently originated in the Geonic period. It should be recalled that the story was told to popular stratum of the public, including many women.155

153 Thus also in the accepted Hebrew translation of Nissim, Hibbur Yafe me-haYeshu’ah (1), which was most probably the version available to Joseph Shabbetai Farhi, the author of Oseh Pele. Hibbur Yafe me-ha-Yeshu’ah (2), in Hirshberg’s translation (p. 38), however, does not state that it was R. Akiva who sent a message of his imminent arrival to his mate. 154 Nissim, Hibbur Yafe me-ha-Yeshu’ah (1). See Herschler, Ketubot, vol. 2, p. 40 n. 41. Friedman, “Retelling,” pp. 19–20, is of the opinion that the verse “A righteous man knows the needs of his beast” does not suit the Ketubot version, but the explanation I offered in the body of the text seems to resolve this difficulty. 155 See also Ashkenazi, Shittah Mekubetzet, Nedarim (on Nedarim 50a), fol. 55b, s.v. “Yode’a,” who states decisively, but without proof: “‘A righteous man is concerned with the cause of the wretched’ – according to one version, ‘the soul of his beast,’ but this is erroneous.” Yassif, Hebrew Folktale, p. 110, feels that this narrative was frequently intended for women. See, e.g., the end of the story in the Oseh Pele version, that is formulated in the masculine, but, in practice, is intended for the woman, who learns from simple matters.

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Chapter 3 “Internal Homeland” and “External Homeland”: A Literary and Psychoanalytical Study of the Narrative of R. Assi and His Aged Mother “The core of the evil that one person does to another is not because people are inherently evil, but because they do not understand one another, [and that is] because they do not understand the profundities of their own soul”1

The Complex Relationship between Halakhah and Aggadah, as Background to a Reading of the Narrative The following Talmudic narrative revolves around two axes: the spatial axis moves between the Land of Israel and Babylonia; while its inner dimension examines the question of the identity of the story’s hero, R. Assi. The narrative alludes, from a distance, but, as I argue, with a very critical eye, to the troubling question as to whether R. Assi’s identity as a man of halakhah and the values put forth by the law is authentic, or merely a pose used by this Amora to escape coming to terms with his turbulent inner world. I maintain that this aggadic narrative criticizes the Talmudic-halakhic apparatus that seems to cloak other psychological needs, since in such instances this apparatus dims man’s vision of himself and his motives, acting as a double-edged sword directed against the individual. The discussion of the relationship between aggadah and halakhah, both in the world of the Rabbis and later in modern literature (Bialik, Berdyczewski,2 and others), focuses mainly on the question of the 1 Gordon, Selected Writings, p. 284. 2 For their disagreement on this question, see Kagan, Halakha and Aggadah, pp. 107–10. The tension between them can be defined in different ways, using parallel terms taken from the lexicon of general culture: the restraining Pla-

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tense relationship between the two, with each approach indicating the advantage of one or the other, and arguing that it be given priority. At times, as suggested by Bialik, for instance, this question is possibly inappropriate since, in his opinion, the halakhah and the aggadah are “two aspects of the same creature.”3 Our intent here, however, is not to reenter this discussion, but to examine a Talmudic narrative that presents the halakhah-aggadah relationship from an entirely different perspective. We shall argue that this narrative casts a very critical eye at the halakhic system; its distinctive fashioning demonstrates that the unnamed formulators of this vignette exhibit both great skill and much sophistication. My final argument, stated simply and directly, is as follows: this Talmudic aggadic narrative, that exhibits keen psychological discernment, centers around the claim that blind and exclusive attachment to the formal side of the halakhic system, emphasizing its external structure, can cause man to lose the ability to listen to his inner world, and choose the nonessential over what is really important.4

tonic, rational element, confronting the unbridled Dionysian, natural factor (employing the Greek terms coined by Nietzsche), or exposition versus emotion (using terms from the theory of aesthetics of Benedetto Croce); see Kagan, p. 19 n. 6 and her further references. The advantage of the Freudian-Lacanian reading that I propose below lies in its directing our attention to the “fathermother” poles in the context of the “halakhah-aggadah” relationship, thus enabling us to understand the latent element in the episode of R. Assi and his mother, within the special context of the relationship between halakhah and aggadah in the Talmudic world. 3 See Kagan, Halakha and Aggadah, esp. pp. 21–25; Barzel, Poetry and Ideology, pp. 33–62; Zimmerman, From Thee to Thee, pp. 216–18 and n. 142. 4 A somewhat similar orientation in the aggadic narrative that seeks to criticize the formal aspects, various statuses, and honors in the world of the beit midrash was already suggested by Frenkel, Aggadic Narrative, pp. 77–78, who speaks of the “external forms” of texts and mores of the study hall. Frenkel correctly observes that “the dangers of such an external lifestyle lie in its fossilization and its utilization for the honor of the individual, instead of for the aim for which it was established” (see also 78–82; idem, “Outer Forms,” and see chapter 4, n. 6). The current chapter, however, discusses a slightly different subject. The critique of the halakhists by the aggadists that emerges from the narrative presented below has a unique psychological aspect, namely, an ironic look at a certain mechanism of self-delusion, for which the halakhic system provides a sort of “cover.”

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The Text of the Narrative and Discussion Before, however, addressing the narrative itself, it must be stated that this short narrative, that is so economical in its wording, presents us with a challenging interpretive task. In order to avoid complications this early in our discussion, the narrative is initially presented in accordance with the more accepted understanding, that of Rashi’s Talmud commentary; we will later discuss the parallel in the Palestinian Talmud, and other interpretations that attack Rashi’s reading. The narrative appears in BT Kiddushin 31b: ,’nyqz ’myX ’yhh hyl hvh ycX br .1 ,]yuy>kt Xnyib ’l ] ’rmX ,’l dbi ,Xrbg Xnyib .„yl ]yiyyn [hl ’mX .5 dbi ,]yuy>kt ’nyib .„yl ]yiyyn ,’rbg nyib ’rmX " :95 ]knym dy -btkb ) (qytimh tviu vz> hXrnv ,’vkv "hl „tvk ryp>d ’rbg ’nyib .’r>y /rXl lzXv ’qb> ,’yrtbX ’lzXqd im> ,]nxvy ’rd ’ymql XtX ?/rXl hjvxl /rXm tXjl [vhm ] :l "X .10 .rvcX :l "X ?vhm ’myX tXrql .idvy ynyX :l "X ,’tX rdh ,’trvp [xrtX ] .,vl>l „ryzxy ’vqmh ,tXjl tyjrtn ,ycX :hyl rmX .15 ,rzilX ’rd ’ymql ’tX ?xtr xtrym ’mld ,v "x :l "X ?„l ’X yXm [l "X ] ,’vl>l „ryzxy ’vqmh [l "X ] .„l „rbm hvh Xl xtrd ’tyX ,X [l "X ] .20 ,ytXqd ’nvrXl im> ykhv ykhdX 5.yqpn Xl yidy yX :’X

5 Following MS. Munich 95; with additions (in brackets) from MS. Vatican 111.

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The following translation is based on the commentary of Rashi: 1. R. Assi had an aged mother.6 She said: “I want ornaments!”, so he made them for her. [She said] “I want a man!”7 – 5. [He said] “I will search for you.”8 [She said] “I want a man as handsome as you!”9 He left her [in Babylonia] and went to the Land of Israel.10

6 The reader’s sensitive ear hears a disparaging tone, for it was clear that she was an old woman, so why emphasize this? See below, the following notes. This depiction appears in one more place in the Rabbinic literature, in BT Megillah 27b, where “aged” is not denigrating language, but rather an objective description: R. Zakkai is saying that even though the mother was extremely old, she nevertheless took the trouble to ensure that there would be wine for Kiddush. An additional possibility is that “ima zekenah” in our narrative in Kiddushin means that his mother was aged, while in the R. Zakkai story this is an appellation for a grandmother. See the indecision expressed by Rovner, “Rav Assi,” p. 104 n. 6; p. 109 n. 18. On “ima” referring to one’s own mother, while at other times it is a title, see Margaliot, Names and Appellations, p. 99, who states that “ima” refers to an aged woman; accordingly, “ima zekenah” doubly emphasizes the mother’s age. 7 Xrbg , with the dual meaning of man and husband (and in his mother’s next request, as well). In MS. Munich 95 the request for a man precedes the request for ornaments, in an apparent copyist’s mistake. 8 He is not provoked by the insane hint in what he says, he does not laugh at her or mock her, nor does he preach to her. Instead, he leaves the door open for the continuation of her “wooing,” as if to say: Let me think about this. 9 She repeats “I want” three times: a childish affectation that accentuates the old age-childhood mixture, with the meaning of old age-witlessness-madness. 10 Most of the commentators are silent on this point (intriguingly, Margalioth, Encyclopedia, vol. 1, pp. 158–60, omits this tale of R. Assi and his mother), and those who saw madness in the mother’s behavior did not state explicitly whether they found an element of incest here. Thus, Tosafot R[abbi] Y[itzhak] ha-Zaken (printed in all the editions of the Vilna Talmud, and incorrectly attributed to R. Isaac ha-Zaken; modern scholarship has revealed their authorship by R. Abraham Min ha-Har) on Kiddushin ad loc. says only that R. Assi “realized that she had gone mad, and he fled [because he knew] that he could not fill Heaven’s wishes [of honoring one’s parents].” And similarly, Hyman, Toldoth, vol. 1, p. 234: “She [the mother] was insane.” None of these authorities, however, determined the nature of her mental aberration. It transpires that Weiss, Dor Dor we-Dorshaw, vol. 3, p. 86), explains her madness as mere excessive harassment of her son: “He left Babylonia in order to free himself of the contentions stirred up by his elderly mother, who vexed him by making requests that he could not fill”(!). See Ashkenazi, She’eilot u-Teshuvot Hakham

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He heard that she followed him. He [R. Assi] came before R. Johanan.11 10. He [R. Assi] asked him: “Is it permitted to leave the Land of Israel and go abroad?” He [R. Johanan] answered: “It is forbidden.” He [R. Assi] said: “[If leaving] is for the purpose of meeting my mother, then what?”12 He [R. Johanan] replied: “I do not know.” He [R. Assi] waited a short while and came before him again.13

Tzvi, “Tosafot Hadashim,” para. 20, who, apparently based on Rabad (R. Abraham ben David of Posquieres, one of the leading sages of Provence, ca. 1125–1198), in the latter’s gloss on Maimonides (Hil. Mamrim 6:10), totally rejects the element of madness indicated by all the other commentators: “R. Assi’s mother was not insane. She was capable of caring for herself, and she did not require any other custodian; rather, she grieved R. A[ssi] by asking for difficult things.” Ashkenazi apparently did not take note of the striking oedipal motif in this narrative, and it therefore seemed to him that R. Assi fled only from his mother’s annoying requests that he could not meet, and his escape was totally unrelated to the contents of his mother’s wishes. The only traditional commentator I found who indicates incest as central to her madness is Tsuriel, Treasures, p. 856: “Although she was not so sane, he [R. Assi] bore this burden. When, however, she mentioned something that bordered on incest – that she is interested in her son’s beauty, and desires it – he left her, so as not to become entangled with this prohibition.” Tsuriel’s reasoning also is intriguing: “A woman is generally not interested in her husband’s beauty; if this old woman made such a request, the son rightly feared violating a transgression.” The selfunderstood assumption is that once married, a woman loses her sexual desire, and not even her husband’s “beauty” is of interest to her. Accordingly, if this old woman takes an interest in her son’s beauty, this clearly indicates her attraction to him. 11 The head of the large and important Land of Israel yeshivah in Tiberias in the late third century. Kimelman, “Rabbi Yohanan of Tiberias,” pp. 3–10 assumes that R. Johanan lived 200–297 CE. 12 I.e., whether leaving was permitted for such a reason. 13 R. Assi went to R. Johanan’s house, and asked this question once again. xrtX is therefore to be understood as the third person past: he waited, as this is also understood by Adin Steinsaltz, Kiddushin, p. 129. David Rosenthal (“Transformation,” p. 14) renders this as a command to the one before him: “Wait!”, according to which R. Johanan asked R. Assi (after the latter had urged him to answer him) to wait a bit, so he could consider the matter; and R. Johanan issued his reply only after this interval: “Assi, you have decided to go, may the Omnipresent bring you back in peace.” Both suggestions are linguistically possible (this is not like “]ymvy ]ytlt yl xrtyX ,” BT Moed Katan 28a, where it is patent that this is an imperative), but the first seems more likely, since it is in the spirit of the narrative for R. Johanan to evade giving R. Assi a clear answer

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15. He [R. Johanan] said to him: “Assi, you have decided to go, may the Omnipresent bring you back in peace.”14 He [R. Assi] came before R. Eleazar,15 [and he, R. Assi] said to him: “Perhaps, Heaven forbid, he was angry [with me].”16 He [R. Eleazar] asked him: “What did he say to you?” He [R. Assi] answered: “May the Omnipresent bring you back in peace.” 20. He [R. Eleazar] said: “Had he been angry, he would not have given you a blessing.”17

14

15 16 17

(and that R. Assi later had to clarify R. Johanan’s answer with R. Eleazar). If R. Johanan did, indeed, ask for time to give thorough consideration before delivering his ruling, it is unclear why he did not give R. Assi a complete and straightforward answer to the latter upon his return. See also Jacob Nahum Epstein, Studies in Talmudic Literature, vol. 2, p. 836, who writes that “xrtX ” is “a regular verb in the BT, meaning ‘was late,’ ‘waited’” (my thanks to Dr. Tzemah Keisar, with whom I consulted on this point). Rashi understands that R. Johanan comprehended – not only from the general formulation of the first query by R. Assi, but also from the explicit wording of his second question – that the latter retreated from his aliyah (immigration, as a religious duty) to the Land of Israel, and wished to return to Babylonia (literally, yeridah, descent). R. Johanan apparently understood that R. Assi’s mother came to persuade him to return to Babylonia, and the question about leaving the Land to greet her expressed his remorse at his having fled from her, and that R. Assi therefore wanted to return and live with her. Rashi accordingly interprets “‘bring you back in peace’ – to your place [back in Babylonia].” According, however, to Rashi, the narrator intended to say that the vague nature of R. Assi’s question led to a misunderstanding, since R. Assi himself did not really mean to ask whether it was permissible to return to Babylonia, but whether he could leave the Land of Israel in order to greet his mother, before returning to the Land of Israel. Unlike Rashi, Maharsha (R. Samuel Eliezer ben Judah ha-Levi Edels, 1555–1631, Hiddushei Aggadot, in his commentary printed in the Vilna Talmud) asserts that R. Johanan meant to say in the blessing “may the Omnipresent bring you back in peace” that he should return in peace to the Land of Israel after leaving to greet his mother. See below, n. 50. R. Eleazar ben Pedat, one of R. Johanan’s leading disciples (see Margalioth, Encyclopedia, vol. 1, p. 116). R. Assi went to consult with him concerning the meaning of R. Johanan’s puzzling replies. And therefore he did not give me an unequivocal yes or no answer, but sent me on my way with a laconic reply and a sort of blessing. The wording of the blessing proves that he was not angry, but actually permitted you to leave the Land.

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In the meanwhile,18 he heard that her coffin was coming.19 He [R. Assi] said: “If I had known, I would not have left.”20 *** The sophisticated fashioning of the narrative is not immediately noticeable, because the complex relationship between the content of the narrative and its message is not at all apparent upon a first reading. In a pithy and abbreviated fashion (in the tradition of the miniature Rabbinic narrative), the beginning presents the tense psychological world of the two protagonists, R. Assi and his mother. The narrative is incorporated within the broader Talmudic sugya (discursive unit) among a series of narratives dealing with various problems raised 18 After he had just left the Land of Israel to welcome her. (On the translation of ykhdX , see also Rovner, “Rav Assi,” p. 105 n. 9.) 19 I.e., the report was erroneous, and she herself had not come to the Land of Israel, but since she had died, her coffin was brought to him, for burial in the Land. For the transport of the dead from Babylonia for burial in the Land of Israel, see Gafni, “Reinterment”; for the general question of the departure by the Rabbis from the Land of Israel, see Aberbach, Jewish Education, p. 133. For the halakhic aspect of this issue in late rabbinic discussions, see Orenstein, “Prohibition.” 20 I.e., I would not have left the Land of Israel to receive her coffin, since “this is not part of the honor [that must be shown a mother] after her death” (Tosafot, loc. cit.). Following this interpretation, Steinsaltz, Kiddushin, p. 129: “After her death he was not required to leave the Land of Israel to honor her.” Another option: I would not have left Babylonia at all if I would have known that I am leaving my mother to die there alone. See below n. 25, and the discussion in the end of this chapter. The reason given for this in the literature of the Ahronim (later authorities) is that R. Assi thought the question of honor extended to the dead applies only to something that “is of utility to the dead”; see Rabbi Ezekiel ben Judah Landau, Noda bi-Yehudah, Even ha-Ezer, Mahadurah Tanina, para. 45; see also R. Jacob Joshua Falk, Penei Yehoshua ha-Shalem (Bnei Brak, 1987), vol. 3, Kiddushin, commentary on 31b, s.v. “Sham Adhakhi”; but see also below, n. 50. A general observation on the Aramaic text: there are no significant differences between MS. Vatican 95, MS. Vatican 111, and the printed version. The variants from MS. Vatican that I added to MS. Munich, in square brackets, are solely of an explanatory nature, and change nothing in our comprehension of the episode (the word xrtX is indistinct in MS. Munich, while it is quite clear in MS. Vatican, and in the printed version). Only a single variant might be material: in MS. Vatican the hero of the story is R. Ammi, the fellow of R. Assi (see below, n. 45). Since, however, our study is literary and not historical, and since I do not argue that the name “R. Assi” is significant as an analogous literary means, this would not alter the conclusions of the reading that we propose.

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by the obligation to honor one’s father and mother.21 Unlike the other narratives, however, this one directly injects into the discussion extremely embarrassing psychological materials, foremost among which is incest.22 21 For this obligation, see the extensive discussion by Blidstein, Honor Thy Father and Mother; and in the special context of mothers and sons, see Valler, Women and Womanhood, pp. 99–119. 22 Raising this embarrassing subject seems quite surprising in a story about a sage of the Talmud, but it should be noted that the frankness of the Rabbis on this sexual topic, as on other such subjects, is not exceptional. Thus, e.g., for incestual desire, see what the Rabbis observed, with stunning openness, about themselves: “R. Meir said: Guard me from my daughter. R. Tarfon said: Guard me from my daughter-in-law” (BT Kiddushin 81b). In other words, do not allow me to be alone with my daughter/daughter-in-law because I am sexually attracted to her (even though, formally, such intimate encounters are permitted). This candidness led to derision by a “student,” and as related by the Talmud, this repression had terrible consequences: “A certain student scoffed at him [it is unclear whether the intent is to R. Meir or to R. Tarfon]. R. Abbahu said in the name of R. Hanina ben Gamaliel: It did not take long before that student transgressed with his mother-in-law.” In her discussion of mother-son relationships (see above), Valler stresses the fact that “the aspect of shame is emphasized in the Babylonian Talmud. […] We are concerned here with the strange, humiliating behavior of the mother [toward her son]” (p. 105). She then adds that the fathers in the BT do not engage in irregular acts, unlike the mothers, who are described as “active to the point of hysteria” (p. 106). Although Valler does not offer an explanation for the phenomenon, our (Freudian-Lacanian) discussion may be helpful: hysteria, that contains symptoms connected with the repression of forbidden desires, is a characteristically feminine neurosis. In many societies women are expected to take their place at the giving and protective “maternal” pole; such behavior requires the woman to waive and repress many desires (while the male is left with many more outlets, and is usually not required to act in such a manner). For hysteria in psychoanalysis, see: Laplanche and Pontalis, Language of Psychoanalysis, pp. 194–97; Yarom, Saint Francis. For Lacan’s teachings in a female context, see: Evans, Dictionary, pp. 78–79. For a survey of the attitude of psychoanalysis to hysteria, see: David-Menard, Hysteria. For hysteria among women in the classical world, see: Thornton, Eros, p. 255 n. 79. We also see in the Talmudic sources that the mother is supposed to act towards her son in a more loving and understanding fashion than the threatening and castrating father. See, e.g., the observation by R. Judah ha-Nasi in Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael (Masekhta Ba-Hodesh 8, ed. Horovitz-Rabin, p. 232; trans.: p. 259), where her loving behavior is termed “sways him with persuasive words”: “It is revealed and known before Him by whose word the world came into being that a man honors his mother more than his father because she sways him with persuasive words. Therefore in the commandment to honor He mentions the father before the mother. And it is revealed and known before Him by whose word the world came into being that a man is more afraid of his father than of his mother because he teaches him the Torah” (based on this, the Vilna Gaon,

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R. Assi’s mother addresses to him a number of requests that gradually reveal her renewed sexual vitality, specifically in her old age and widowhood. She begins by asking her son to obtain jewelry for her, which he does,23 although we may overhear his wonder at this late “awakening.” In the second stage, his mother turns to him with an even more direct request: “I want a man!”24 R. Assi answers her (and we in his commentary on the Torah Aderet Eliyahu, Re’eh, Deut. 13:7, explicitly formulates this fundamental principle in the world of the Rabbis: “For the mother loves her son more than the father”). It should be noted that in the above midrashic passage the “Torah” represents the “language” (the “big Other,” in Lacanian terminology); consequently, it is self-understood that the father is more important than the mother and her son, both of whom are required to honor him, to honor the law, the “language.” This is expressly stated in Sifra, Kedoshim 1:9 (ed. Weiss, fol. 86c): “The father precedes the mother everywhere. Could we think that the father’s honor takes precedence over that due the mother? Scripture teaches: ‘You shall each revere his mother and his father’ [Lev. 19:3] – [that seemingly] teaches that both are equal. But the Rabbis said that the father precedes the mother everywhere, because he [i.e., the son] and his mother are obligated to honor his father” (see also M Keritot 6:9; BT Kiddushin 30b-31a). See Di-Segni, “Ritual Bath,” who bases the complex legal question of “who is a Jew” on this distinction, and ascribes to the Biblical literature the conception that the social order is built upon patriarchal rule (pp. 272–73), on the mother’s unconditional love for her child (in the sources from the Bible on), and on the different love of the father, who is obligated to discipline the son (pp. 277–78). For the general Biblical attitude to motherhood, see: Exum, “‘Mother in Israel.’” For love between mothers and sons in Jewish folklore, see also the references to the sources collected by Stahl, Family, p. 441. 23 The narrator accentuates R. Assi’s attraction to his mother by means of a fine theoretical distinction. He does not say that R. Assi “hl ]bz ” (bought for her), but “hl h>i ” (made for her). See also above, n. 7. For this mutual attraction in antiquity, see Halevi, Amoraitic Aggadot, p. 162; Stahl, Family, p. 237 n. 7. It also should be noted that the jewelry itself, as a gift that the mother requests, has a clear sexual connotation; an early myth even traces this “evil” to what the benei elohim (divine beings) taught the daughters of man (Gen. 6:4). According to this myth, Azazel taught women to adorn themselves. See 1 Enoch, (Charlesworth, Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, vol. 1, p. 16); see also Yalkut Shimoni on Genesis, para. 44; the midrash Schemchasai und Asael, p. 127; Ginzberg, Legends, vol. 1, p. 125. The aggadah depicts women’s jewelry as the means of seduction for illicit ends, and these ornaments are even accounted among the causes of the Destruction; see, e.g., BT Shabbat 62b; on the Rabbinic sources that view favorably a married woman’s adorning herself, see above, Chapter Two, n. 54. 24 There may be a humoristic element here. The image of the old woman who is still eager to find a husband appears in various sources in late Jewish folklore; see Shtal, Family, p. 234 n. 395. For the amorous old woman as a commonly appearing Roman character, see Edwards, Politics of Immorality, p. 73; Levinson,

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cannot be sure whether his answer is serious or somewhat diplomatic): “I will search for you.” But then R. Assi is presented with a third request, that shocks him to the depths of his soul, and is now revealed as the underlying purpose of the preceding requests. His mother discloses her forthright desire for him: “I want a man as handsome as you!” R. Assi is so scandalized that he flees from her. His escape is not limited to someplace near, in another city in Babylonia; he does not stop until he reaches the Land of Israel. The materials from which this opening scene of the vignette are constructed are hidden sexual desire, fear, and a bit of madness that motivate both characters. Her actions have the opposite effect on her son: the more the mother reveals her familiarity with R. Assi, the greater the distance he puts between them. The mother, who seeks her son’s closeness, is obviously not driven by religious or halakhic reasons, but by motherly love and lust. At this stage, the reader still is unaware that R. Assi is a prominent Torah scholar, and that his world is that of the beit midrash and his close associates are the inhabitants of the beit midrash. They join the story only in the second scene, when R. Assi is already in the Land of Israel, in the Tiberian study hall. In the first stage the narrative directly and simply addresses the mother-son relationship. Once, however, the beit midrash and its concepts has entered the picture, all these simple, living concepts of urges, emotion, and fear undergo a transformation to another language, and vanish within a “religious” cloak. Here the narrator employs a quite interesting stratagem, that we will attempt to track. When R. Assi learns that his mother is “chasing” him, and that she is on her way to the Land of Israel, the narrator portrays the Amora’s inner struggles as if they are all linked to a single, purely halakhic, question: is he permitted to leave the Land of Israel in order to greet his mother? R. Assi is presumably struggling with a legal issue, that originates in a place completely detached from emotions and urges. He is absorbed in a complex halakhic case that sets two halakhic mandates, in this instance contradictory, against one another: on the one hand, the halakhah forbids leaving the Land of Israel; while on the other, a person is obligated to honor his mother.

“An-Other Woman,” p. 282; Aristophanes, Ploutos (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1991), the introduction by Dwora Gilula, pp. 25–26 (Hebrew).

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The fashioner of the story, however, winks at the reader from behind the back of his hero R. Assi, and hints to him that the facts of the case are different even from what R. Assi was willing to admit to himself. The reader is perfectly aware that these pseudo-halakhic doubts are nothing other than the means for R. Assi’s flight from his distressing psychological problem, just as he knows that R. Assi’s “aliyah” (immigration to Israel as a religious duty) to the Land of Israel did not originally ensue from the positive desire to fulfill the religious obligation of immigration to the Land, which is actually a city of refuge for him, a haven from his mixed feelings toward his mother. Thus, the author of the narrative says, the hero is driven in two parallel planes. In the conscious sphere, he presents his motives to society and to himself as resulting from religious-halakhic devotion; but in the unconscious, a fierce emotional and earthly lava bubbles, and this is the true engine that drives his pseudoreligious actions. The continuation of the narrative, as well, moves along this revealed-concealed axis. R. Assi discovers that his mother is pursuing him, and that she is on her way to the Land of Israel. We may assume that both longing and rejection infuse the emotions of our undoubtedly alarmed and surprised hero. Invariably, however, he does not look directly within himself, to his tempestuous emotions and urges, he rather envelops his fierce libido in halakhic-religious garb. Now he tells his teachers and fellow scholars in the beit midrash that he wishes to honor his mother and greet her on her way to the Land of Israel. The reader, however, sees through the confusing information, and knows that this is not his true motive, for could the same R. Assi – who had fled from her – now, all of a sudden, want to receive her? If honoring one’s mother was so important to him, why did he try to escape from her?25 25 Valler, Women and Womanhood, p. 116, does not consider the possibility that the attraction in this narrative was mutual, and therefore has difficulty in explaining R. Assi’s wish to go forth to greet his mother. She surmises that “perhaps Rav Assi wants to keep her from settling there [in the Land of Israel] beside him, thinking that if he goes out to meet her he can persuade her not to do so,” but this does not seem to be a literal reading of the narrative. For this same reason she emphasizes the fact that, in the BT version, R. Assi does not state in his first question that his desire to go abroad is for the purpose of honoring his mother (p. 116); rather, in her opinion, the question is intended to determine if he is permitted to go abroad in order to escape from his mother. I believe, however, that the formulation “vhm XmX tXrql ” (for the purpose of meeting my mother, then what?) cannot be understood other than in its simple

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The narrator leads R. Assi to a strange and confused conversation with the head of the study hall, R. Johanan, until the reader gains the impression that the student, who knocks on his teacher’s door,26 and meaning: in order to greet her. If R. Assi had wanted to flee from his mother, he would have formulated his question: vhm (tprvum ) XmX ynpm (because of a [mentally ill] mother – is it allowed?). Valler also interprets the end of the narrative: yqpn Xl yidy yX (if I had known, I would not have left) in this spirit, as if R. Assi is expressing his sorrow at not having foreseen her impending death, and thereby avoid all the trouble entailed in his flight from Babylonia to the Land of Israel; according to this reading, “yqpn Xl ” (I would not have left) means, from Babylonia. As Valler puts this: “It is certainly possible to interpret […] as R. Assi’s regret that he left for Eretz Israel without any reason. That is to say, if I had known she [i.e., his mother] was so soon to die, there would have been no need to run away [from Babylonia] from her.” This explanation, as well, is unsatisfactory, for the same reason, since it is inexplicable how someone who earlier asked his teacher whether he was permitted to go forth to greet his dear mother would now be sorry for not having foreseen her death in time to save him the trouble of leaving Babylonia. Valler’s reliance (p. 117 n. 10) on the commentary by Rashash (R. Samuel ben Joseph Strashun, 1794–1872, in his commentary Hagahot ve-Hiddushei ha-Rashash that appears in the printed Vilna edition of the Talmud, on Kiddushin ad loc.) seems baseless, since Strashun, as well, was of the opinion that R. Assi sought to go abroad for the purpose of meeting his mother and honor her; after, however, he learned of her passing, he was greatly distressed that his hasty departure contributed to her demise, since he thought that the rigors of the journey from Babylonia to the Land of Israel resulted in her death, and he felt guilty, for he should not have left Babylonia (“If I had known that she would follow me and die on the way, I would not have left Babylonia, lest the discomfort of the journey, or his leaving her, would cause her death”). Nor does Strashun consider the possibility that R. Assi wanted to flee from his approaching mother by evasively returning to Babylonia (see also below). 26 The “door” is not explicitly mentioned, but its presence is felt, if only because it serves as a point of encounter between the “inner” that R. Assi seeks, and around which he plies his questions, whether this is the door of R. Johanan’s house, or whether the door of the residence of R. Eleazar ben Pedat. This “door” is an opening to something, to a hidden desire to which R. Assi returned as if obsessed, until he himself fears that he is a nuisance. Accordingly, he must now return and knock on the “door,” in order to return by the “back door” of the father figure (= the “law”) to the “door” that had closed behind him, that of his “mother,” i.e., his maternal side, namely, his birthplace in Babylonia. For the significance in other religions of the “door” as symbolizing some cryptic secret (whether divine, eschatological, or the like; see the statement attributed to Jesus: “I am the door; if any one enters by me, he will be saved” – John 10:9); and for further evidence of this, see: Chevalier and Gheerbrant, Dictionary of Symbols, pp. 421–25. For the door as a feminine symbol in art, see: Apostolos-Cappadona, Encyclopedia of Women, pp. 109–10; and in sources from the Jewish tradition: Nacht, Symbolism of the Woman, pp. 94–95, s.v. “Delet [Door].” The generalization by Hevrony, “Arrow,” pp. 150–51, that

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then on that of the latter’s student, to tell them something, actually wants to convey to them something completely different, but without success.27 Something blocks his ability to express what really is bothering him, to give vent to his inner distress and not merely reiterate the external considerations – that are merely a cover for the something-real that boils over and torments him in his inner self. The murky and confused course of the inner conflict in R. Assi’s psyche continues until he realizes that the soul of his mother, who was far away and longing, had “gone out” to him, and not only metaphorically. R. Assi’s reaction is quite strange. Once again the narrator employs the same stratagem, that is heavy in irony.28 Both the narrator and the reader are well aware how much inner pain results from hearing the bitter tidings of the mother’s death; especially to the one who was tied to her apron strings, and in whom this intense emotion aroused such great fear that he was compelled to flee from her.29 Once again, however, R. Assi prefers to ignore his feelings, to sweep under the carpet every simple expression of suffering or loss. His “real” contrition, so he claims, is only because he mistakenly left the Land of Israel: if he had known that it was her coffin that was coming, and not his live mother, he would not have departed from the Land.30 R. Assi, who had fled to the Land of Israel for entirely personal reasons, presents his action as a religious deed; now that the Land of Israel

27

28 29 30

in the Rabbinic literature a knock on the door always has a negative continuation, is correct only in the instances that he lists. According to the commentary of Rashi (see above, n. 14), the confusion is joined by misunderstanding, as well, since R. Johanan thought that he wanted to return to Babylonia in order to be with his mother. Rovner, “Rav Assi” (pp. 107–10), is of the opinion that the narrative relates to an instance in which the halakhic system has no answer for the question that was raised, and the individual himself must bear responsibility for the decision. R. Assi cannot accept this fact, he therefore repeatedly bothers his teacher over a matter in which the latter is powerless. Rovner’s interpretation does not necessarily contradict the reading I offer here; I, however, suggest (as will be explained in greater detail below) that the narrative is mainly concerned with repression of emotions. I argue that R. Assi uses the halakhic system for this repression, which results in the strange exchange of questions and answers. A fundamental aggadic quality. See Frenkel, Ways of the Aggadah, vol. 2, p. 629 n. 6. On this point the Talmudic tale bears some similarity to the Biblical narrative of Joseph and the wife of Potiphar. For the different interpretive method of R. Samuel ben Joseph Strashun and its bearing on the reading of the narrative at this juncture, see above, n. 25, and the discussion below.

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is so precious to him, even his dead mother is not that important that he should be more distressed over her passing than for his stepping a few feet outside the bounds of the Land of Israel! The so heavily ironic fashioning of the narrative concludes with the straightforward statement that a true spiritual “aliyah” is not flight, while this is exactly what R. Assi did throughout the entire narrative – not from his mother, but from himself.

A Proposed Psychoanalytical Reading Everything stated until now could have been formulated differently, in a reading that draws upon psychoanalytical terms to clarify the veiled meanings of the literary work.31 We will now attempt to present this narrative once again, in a somewhat more complex manner. This narrative moves between two external antipodes that are meant to symbolize sanctity: the Land of Israel as the center and the “motherland” (also in the sense of the birthplace of the people, in which, according to the Rabbinic belief, God dwells and is revealed to His people); and Babylonia as periphery, as a marginal location. These two external poles, however, are seemingly parallel to the two internal antipodes in R. Assi’s world: One is the pole of the “mother,” who gives birth, as an “inner motherland,” as the primal center to which he is attracted (the incestuous attraction noted by Freud).32 R. Assi, in denial, flees from this

31 For a general discussion, see: Wright, Psychoanalytic Criticism; Berman, Essential Papers. An additional and intriguing possibility, that I did not develop in this article, is to attempt to read this narrative from a Jungian perspective, in which the archetypical mother contains a number of traits. Although the basic female-maternal trait contains a great ability to impart (life, warmth, food, protection, love), it also contains ambivalent qualities, such as possession in contrast with imprisonment, and rejection in contrast with expulsion. See Stern, Violence, pp. 63–76. 32 Freud, “Group Psychology,” pp. 137–38; idem, “Ego and the Id,” pp. 34–35. For a Freudian analysis of the children’s tales in folkloristic literature in an oedipal context, see Bettelheim, Uses of Enchantment, pp. 194–99. The treatment of this subject in the Talmudic narrative before us should be examined in light of Bettleheim’s conclusion, that distinguishes between the ancient Greek myth that merely contains the insurmountable oedipal difficulty, on the one hand, and, on the other, those folktales that bring the conflict to a successful resolution, one that presents the child’s development to a mature stage. As we

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attraction, horrified, when he learns of it. This distress causes him to uproot himself from his motherland to a different and distant one, thereby expressing the energies of the id that threaten the ego. The blatant hints by the mother broadcast warning signals of approaching danger for R. Assi, for something in his latent fantasy could suddenly be realized. The narrative’s progression in slow motion between the phases of the mother’s requests indicates that R. Assi initially agrees to her in this first stage,33 and he flees from her only when her request for “a man as handsome as you” becomes totally explicit. At the other antipode is that of the “father,”34 who strikes terror in R. Assi’s heart, a sort of “periphery” that threatens the “center.” According to Jacques Lacan, the threatening “father” is the system of language and cultural rules, in this case, the system of rules (here, the Jewish halakhah) that are imprinted as the “Name-of-the-Father” or the “paternal metaphor” (in Lacan’s formulations) in R. Assi’s internal world.35 From this viewpoint, as well, the heroes of our narrative move on the axis between “center” and “periphery,” but here this is an inner, latent movement. What, then, is the relationship between the two movements, the external and the internal? A study of the narrative reveals that the “center” and the “periphery” are inversely related here. R. Assi’s mother (the inner center for him) lived in Babylonia, that from the perspective of the “father” (the halakhah), is the “periphery” and not the “center”; consequently, R. Assi’s flight to the Land of Israel is a conscious decision to choose the center of the “father” (the system of the

shall show below, the narrative seemingly adopts neither of these avenues, and chooses to proceed along its own, and fascinating path (see below). 33 See above, nn. 8, 23. 34 We know nothing of R. Assi’s biological father (who may be presumed to have already died). For a rare extant testimony of R. Assi’s guilt feelings and a discussion of this testimony, see: Kimelman, “Rabbi Yohanan and the Professionalization,” p. 344 n. 74. 35 For the Oedipus complex in Freud’s teachings, see the summation by Laplanche and Pontalis, Language of Psychoanalysis, pp. 282–87. For Lacan’s interpretation of this complex, see Evans, Dictionary, pp. 127–30; Lee, Jacques Lacan, pp. 60–67. For the question of whether he thereby interprets Freud or disagrees with him, see: Borch-Jacobsen, “Oedipus Problem.” Borch-Jacobsen’s key assumption is that at times the interpreter has to commit “parricide” to continue the father’s heritage, and “true faithfulness is not faithfulness to solutions, but to problems”; see pp. 267–68.

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halakhah), and not the center of the “mother” (his natural homeland).36 But the plot does not end here. R. Assi flees from the “mother” to, and with the help of, the “father.” Afterwards, however, in the “cover” and garb of the “father” (= the commandment to greet the mother), he attempts to return and meet the “mother.”37 This very ardor arouses (facing the father) the fear from anew – and this is the hidden essence of his “query to the rabbi.” His anxiety is expressed in the obsessive “symptom” of a return to his doubt. He cannot accept R. Johanan’s statement at face value, and he asks once again, both R. Johanan himself and the latter’s disciple R. Eleazar, concerning the 36 See what Melanie Klein wrote about the term “motherland” arousing emotions that draw their nature from the attitude to the mother: Klein, Love, Guilt, p. 33. See also Pardes, Biography, p. 44 and the entire discussion. For the mother as “inner homeland,” see Halevi, Amoraitic Aggadot, p. 40. For the Land of Israel as “his mother’s bosom,” and Babylonia as “a Gentile woman’s bosom,” see Gen. Rabbah 96:30, ed. Theodor-Albeck, p. 1240, and the parallels listed in Theodor’s commentary (Minhat Yehudah); cf. the passage by Nahmanides cited in Pedaya, Name and Sanctuary, p. 281 and n. 15. For the father as protecting his son from lust, see, e.g., those traditions that attribute Joseph’s power to withstand the wiles of Potiphar’s wife at the crucial moment to his seeing “the countenance of his father.” See PT Horayot 2:5, 46d; Gen. Rabbah 87:11, ed. Theodor-Albeck, p. 1072; 98:24–25, p. 1270. Although these sources also present the position that the image of his mother Rachel appeared before him, the first position, that only his father appeared to him, predominates in the apparently later sources. See BT Sotah 36b; Pirkei de-Rabbi Eliezer, chap. 39, fol. 92b; Seder Eliyahu Rabbah, “Ha-Yeridot,” p. 51; Zohar, Vayehi, 222a. We also find the concrete prophylactic use of the father’s image to prevent his son from transgression as a seemingly “magical” charm: see Yalkut Shimoni, Vayeshev, 145. An interesting rationale for this midrashic scene in which his father’s image appeared to Joseph when Potiphar’s wife sought to seduce him is given by R. Moses ha-Darshan in Tosafot, BT Sotah 36b, s.v. “Be-Otah Sha’ah” (and in Zohar, loc. cit.), who derives this from Gen. 39:11: “None of the household being there inside” – no member of the household was present, but someone not from the household was indeed there, namely, his father Jacob. Also noteworthy is the late use of this motif, that became a sort of moral strategy to avoid sin. See, e.g., Karo, Maggid Mesharim, Vayikra, p. 87. The advice of the Maggid (see Werblowsky, Joseph Karo, pp. 257–86) to Karo was “always have in mind as if the Tetragrammaton is written in black ink before your eyes, on parchment, and consider as if your modest father is standing before you; and in this way you will be ashamed to remove your thought from Me”; see Maggid Mesharim, Tzav, p. 89. See also the concrete use made of the father figure as a (seemingly magic) shield guarding the son from transgression in Yalkut Shimoni, Vayeshev 145. 37 The linguistic fashioning emphasizes this point by the juxtaposition between “hyrtbX hlzX Xqd im> ” (“He heard that she followed him”) and “XtX ]nxvy ybrd hymql ” (“He came before R. Johanan”).

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meaning of his teacher’s words, expressly stating this anxiety in his query to R. Eleazar: “Perhaps, Heaven forbid, he [R. Johanan] was angry.” The external formulation of the question is: Is it permissible to go abroad (hutz la-aretz) from the Land of Israel to greet R. Assi’s mother, since the place called “hutz la-aretz” is defined as a place for which lands of the nations impurity was decreed. The external question marks the inner one: Is it permitted to leave the external center (= the Land of Israel) for a place of impurity? Is one allowed to take the risk of standing close to the danger of the “impurity” inherent in close contact with greeting the “mother,” that is, the inner center? This effect is intensified by the narrator, in two ways. First, he presents R. Assi in the first two questions as someone who is initially confused when he asks his questions, that are not formulated clearly, and who then goes to the entrance of R. Johanan’s house; he asks nothing here, but his very standing, embarrassed and mute, is a single great question. R. Johanan answers this unvoiced question: “Assi, you have decided to go, may the Omnipresent bring you back in peace.” But this statement is understood as if said in anger. All of this, of course, is from a viewpoint that is fearful of and ridden with anxiety at R. Assi’s “father.” The narrator constructs the tangible character of R. Johanan in this narrative as a nonthreatening figure, who possesses a measure of tenderness and flexibility, since R. Johanan, the head of the study hall, is capable of humbly admitting, “I do not know,” and in the end even blesses the “son” who insists on departing.38 This fact draws into sharper focus the picture of the threatening internal “father” in the inner world of R. Assi, the “metaphorical father” whom R. Assi imagines to find in R. Johanan.39 38 It should be noted that Rovner, “Rav Assi,” p. 111, finds that R. Johanan’s addressing R. Assi by name (“Assi, you have decided to go”) expresses anger, for if this were not so, he would have used the neutral “my son.” The sources brought by Rovner, however, in support of his determination do not seem convincing. Many instances in the Talmud of direct address using a person’s first name are not done in anger (see, e.g., BT Hagigah 15a: “He said to him: Meir, turn back”). It was not that common for a teacher to address his student by his first name, but R. Assi might have been thought to be a great scholar, and at the time of this episode he was no longer a young man (see Margalioth, Encyclopedia, vol. 1, p. 157). If R. Johanan had wanted to express anger, he undoubtedly would have called him by his father’s name: “ben [son of] X!” On such usage to voice anger or disparagement in the Rabbinic literature, see Margaliot, Names and Appellations, pp. 10–11 n. 14. 39 Of especial interest is the fact that the gentle and flexible “father” is contrasted specifically with the mother in this vignette, the representative of “metaphorical”

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Second, the narrator emphasizes R. Assi’s anxiety by fashioning the entire story as a mercurial and lunatic tale, that swings from one extreme to the other, from that of closeness to the mother (“he made them [= ornaments] for her”) to total flight from her; and from his extreme flight from her to afar, to the Land of Israel, to his desire to return and see her. The movement in this narrative is that of running about between two poles, between the Land of Israel and Babylonia, between the “mother” and the “father,” with sharp and surprising turns in the plot: R. Assi suddenly arises and flees from his mother to the Land of Israel. And then, as soon as he arrives, he loses no time in determining, in a no less surprising manner, if he can go to greet her. The lunatic and perturbed nature of the story is compounded by the narrator’s repeatedly presenting us with a new riddle, and every instance of “he said to him” forces us to guess the identity of the speaker. Thus, for example, after we are told that R. Assi received R. Johanan’s first reply, it is stated that “he came before him again,” and immediately afterwards, “he said to him.” According to the sequence of events, this should have been R. Assi speaking to R. Johanan, but the readers learn (from the continuation: “Assi, you have decided to go, may the Omnipresent bring you back in peace”) that R. Assi asks a silent question, to which R. Johanan replies.

On the Transformation of the Text from the Land of Israel to Babylonia Several questions are raised by a comparison with the Land of Israel parallels of this narrative. This tale appears, in a slightly different version, in three places in the Palestinian Talmud (Berakhot 3:1, 6a–b; Shevi’it 6:2, 36c; Nazir 7:1, 56a). The version is quite similar in all three; for the purposes of our discussion, the minor differences between them may be disregarded, and we therefore will cite only the version in Berakhot (following MS. Leiden): desire, who exhibits extreme and total behavior; she does not change her mind (as does R. Johanan), and she stubbornly pursues her son. Her extreme love is as fierce as death, in the literal meaning of this expression. The narrative therefore offers us an intensification of the character of the lustful, extreme, and mad old woman, in contrast with the “old man,” the sage of the academy. This is somewhat related to the different fashioning in the Talmudic literature of the characters of the mother and the father, as Valler already noted (see above, n. 22).

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R. Yasa [in Shevi’it: Yose]40 heard that his mother had come to Bozrah.41 He went and asked R. Johanan, “May I leave [the Land of Israel, to go abroad]?” He replied: “If [you want to leave] because of the dangers of the journey [i.e., you desire to guard your mother on her way to the Land of Israel], leave. If [you desire to leave] for the sake of honoring your father and mother [by greeting her], I do not know.” R. Samuel the son of R. Isaac [a third-generation Babylonian Amora who had immigrated to the Land of Israel] said, It [the question has not been resolved, and] still needs42 [further study by R. Johanan, but R. Yasa] importuned R. Johanan43 [and therefore R. Johanan dismissed him with this blessing, by]44 saying: “If you have decided to go, return in peace,” [But] R. Eleazar [ben Pedat, disagreed, and] said: “There is no greater permission [to leave the Land of Israel] than that [i.e., if R. Johanan blessed R. Yasa, he meant to say that this is permitted].” 40 For the variants of his name, see Albeck, Introduction, p. 228; Hyman, Toldoth, vol. 1, p. 234. For the Assi-Yose exchange, see also Henshke, Original Mishna, pp. 293, 303. 41 “[…] a city in eastern Transjordan, east of the Bashan Mountains on the southern border of Trabuna [should be: Trachon; Trachonitis], the district whose northern border is Damascus” (Valler, Women and Womanhood, p. 114 n. 8), which is the accepted identification. See, e.g., Nathan ben Jehiel, Arukh haShalem, vol. 2, p. 155–57; see Avi-Yonah, Holy Land, pp. 171–72. It perhaps should be noted that there also was a city by this name on the east bank of the Tigris River; see Eshel, Jewish Settlements, p. 50. 42 R. Moses Margoliot, Penei Moshe on the narrative in the PT: “Even though we heard that R. Johanan later told him, ‘If you have decided to go, return in peace,’ this is still doubtful. The matter was unclear to R. Johanan himself, but because R. Yasa greatly importuned him, he gave him an affirmative answer.” This text accordingly seems fragmentary, since, according to the proper order of events, R. Johanan’s reply to R. Assi (“If you have decided to go, return in peace”) should have preceded the comment by R. Samuel, the son of R. Isaac. See also other possible interpretations of this passage below, in n. 332. 43 R. Assi importuned R. Johanan, and not vice versa (Ginzberg, Commentary, vol. 2, p. 100). 44 This passage in the PT is extremely difficult, and much about it remains enigmatic. For the problem of the different versions, see Valler, Women and Womanhood, p. 114; Ginzberg, Commentary, loc. cit.; Frankel, Zer’aim, BerakhotPeah, n.p., corrects the version. In his commentary Korban ha-Edah (on PT Nazir 7:1, 56a), R. David Fraenkel is puzzled by the words “It still needs”: “Could this matter be in doubt for R. Johanan? It [honoring one’s parents] obviously overrides [the requirement of remaining in the Land of Israel], rather, he was uncertain regarding the cessation of his [R. Assi’s] study, for Torah study is greater than honoring one’s father [and mother].” This interpretation, however, is far removed from the source. In contrast, R. Eleazar Azikri’s version, in his commentary on the PT ad loc., is “]nxvy ’ rd hyli lXvm> ’r xruX ” according to which it was R. Samuel who bothered R. Johanan with this question once again, so that he would give a clear answer. It was this R. Samuel (who apparently came together with R. Assi to ask) who bothered R. Johanan with the question again; a question that was answered by R. Johanan with the blessing (that was patently directed to R. Yasa): “If you have decided to go, return in peace.”

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The narrative in the PT tells us that R. Assi, who was a kohen,45 was undecided whether he was permitted to leave the Land of Israel to go abroad, even though the land of the latter was thought to be impure, in order to greet his mother, who was in Bozrah. R. Johanan’s answer runs as follows: You are undoubtedly permitted to go there in order to protect her from the dangers of the trip; if, however, she is not in any jeopardy, and you go forth to her only because of the honor due one’s parents, I do not know how to rule. R. Assi probably was not worried by the rigors of the journey, and therefore returned to his teacher and posed his question a second time. Then R. Johanan blesses him, and says that if he is determined to leave the Land of Israel to meet his mother, then he should go and return in peace. And if any doubt as to whether R. Johanan had really allowed his departure still troubled R. Assi, R. Eleazar ben Pedat comes and explains that by giving him this blessing, his teacher definitely condones his going. The entire first half of the narrative in the BT is missing from this version. Shulamit Valler discovers from a comparison of the Land of Israel and Babylonian versions that “the editor of the Babylonian Talmud’s story used the Eretz Israel material about the conflict between the commandment to honor one’s mother […] and the prohibition against leaving Eretz Israel for a different purpose. He took advantage of the lack of clarity as to R. Assi’s reason for leaving and added another story that gave it a background, thus changing its moral.”46 Even if Valler’s analysis is likely, the value of this new literary creation should not be underestimated. Even if the same anonymous Babylonian master used already existing literary materials, he crafts for us a new work, that, as literature, certainly surpasses its predecessor.47 45 He and his fellow R. Ammi were called “important kohanim of the Land of Israel” (BT Megillah 22a; see Albeck, Introduction, p. 228). For the halakhic aspects of a kohen leaving the Land of Israel, see Ginzberg, Commentary, p. 100. 46 Valler, Women and Womanhood, p. 116. 47 An interesting historical hypothesis concerning the migration of this story from the Land of Israel to Babylonia was raised by Zacharias Frankel, Introductio, fol. 51a; and afterwards, Ginzberg, Commentary, p. 100. They noted the exchange (on whether this was a copyist’s mistake or a phonetic change, see: Rosenthal, “Transformation,” pp. 13–15) between “yvlyi xruX ” in the PT, meaning importuned him (that is, R. Assi implored R. Johanan to give him an answer) and “Xtrvp xrtX ” of the BT, with the meaning of delay (for the minor textual variants there, see Epstein, Prolegomena, p. 101 n. 21). When this hypothesis is understood in depth, it also teaches of the fashioning of the Talmudic narrative. When this story was brought to Babylonia, and xruX was erroneously exchanged by xrtX , the Babylonian narrator could already

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Valler relates to the two vignettes as being on the same literary level, with the shared nucleus in the second part of the story, while, in her opinion, the first part was added by the redactor of the Babylonian narrative. But, as she herself later admits, the two narratives differ on more than this one point. One noteworthy divergence is that, in the BT version, R. Assi first asks only a general question: “Is it permitted to leave the Land of Israel and go abroad [to Babylonia]?”, that is, his question can be understood as if he asks: is he permitted to regret his decision to come to the Land of Israel, and he now wishes to return to Babylonia. Only afterwards does R. Assi return and ask R. Johanan what is the law regarding someone who desires to leave the Land of Israel “to meet his mother,” thus in the BT. In the Land of Israel sources, however, the question is understood – from the outset – on the background of the tension between leaving the Land and the commandment to honor one’s parents. In his commentary on the BT, Rashi48 understands that, even in his first question49 R. Assi seeks to learn what becomes clear in greater force in the second question, namely, whether he may return just in order to honor this mother. Due, however, to the hesitant formulation of the query, R. Johanan thought that his pupil wanted to return to Babylonia in general, and not only for this specific reason, and he therefore replies with a sweeping refusal. This, then, presents us with literary sophisassociatively add elements that expressed the fears of R. Assi, who “waited” (see above, n. 13), came again, and then went to R. Eleazar to clarify the meaning of what was said. (It is noteworthy that xtr xtrym and xrtX engage in wordplay with each other, as was already noted by Rovner, “Rav Assi,” p. 111.) Frankel, loc. cit., adopts a somewhat depricatory tone towards these additions: “It appears that this story came to Babylonia in writing, and the writer erred between hyxruX and xrtX . He also embellished the story with additions, which for the most part is the way of the writers of stories.” Fortunately, the aditions of “the writers of stories” have frequently enriched us with the so very profound treasures of the Talmudic narrative. (For a similar conclusion, see Hevrony, “Arrow,” p. 81 n. 128; see also Rovner, “Rav Assi,” p. 113 and n. 28.) Finally, it is noteworthy that similar motifs appear in the narrative in BT Moed Katan 25a of the burial of R. Huna: the bringing of the coffin to the Land of Israel, R. Assi (together with R. Ammi), and the indecision whether to leave or not (albeit this speaks of going forth to the row offering condolences to the mourners!). This, then, might be one of the incarnations of this story. 48 S.v. “Nitratzeita la-Tzet.” 49 Our reading, that emphasizes the “father”-“mother” poles in the narrative, enables us to suggest reading this story as reflecting a sharper and more profound question: Indeed, it is forbidden to leave the Land of Israel, but in order to greet the “mother” is it permissible to violate the “prohibition” (of the “father”)?

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tication and extremely profound psychological understanding. In the first ambiguous, somewhat dreamlike, version, R. Assi’s true desire, to return to his mother’s bosom in Babylonia, comes out like a slip of the tongue; and only when he reconsiders does he reformulate this less vaguely, in a manner more in touch with reality.50 The second striking difference between the two versions appears in the conclusion of each narrative. In the Land of Israel version, R. Assi’s mother is still alive and actually arrives on her visit to her son, while the BT version has a tragicomic ending: the visitor is not his mother, but her coffin.51 This conclusion is therefore deserving of closer scrutiny. R. Assi is prepared to go forth to greet his mother only after his concerns have been allayed by R. Eleazar and he finally accepts what R. Johanan and his student R. Eleazar tell him. But just then, “In the meanwhile, he heard that her coffin was coming. He said: ‘If I had known, I would not have left.’” The narrator ends his tale with an open ending. It is unclear from where R. Assi would not have left: from the Land of Israel, to go abroad; or from abroad to the Land of Israel. This uncertainty resulted in two interpretive schools of thought. According to the first interpretation, R. Assi is saying “I would not have left” the Land of Israel to greet her. This view is adopted by Ma-

50 Maharsha (see above, n. 14) maintains that, initially, R. Assi intended (as R. Johanan correctly understood) only to leave the Land of Israel to receive his mother, before returning to the Land, and that at the beginning R. Johanan was undecided whether the prohibition of leaving the Land of Israel also applied in the case of the obligation to honor one’s mother, to greet her and then return. R. Assi, however, was insistent (Maharsha explains the reason for this tenacity: “Because the commandment of honoring one’s mother was beloved by him”[!]) R. Assi asked this same question yet again, to which R. Johanan responded that if he had already decided to go, may the Omnipresent bring him back in peace. (This interpretive disagreement also has halakhic implications, thus leading numerous poskim to offer their opinion on this disagreement. See Rovner, “Rav Assi,” p. 107 n. 16; see also Sinzheim, Kiddushin, p. 60; a wealth of references appears in Yosef, Yehaveh Da’at, vol. 4, para. 49; see also Orenstein, “Prohibition”). Valler, Women and Womanhood, p. 116, understands that in his first question R. Assi sought to examine the possibility of his return to Babylonia in order to flee from his mother. See above, n. 25. 51 Frankel, in his commentary on the Talmud, s.v. “De-Atat Imey,” attempts to harmonize the two narratives, and is forced to interpret the sugya in PT Berakhot as “his mother’s coffin came to Bozrah,” that in turn compels Frankel to an even more forced interpretation further on, understanding “because of the dangers of the journey” as “that there is danger on the route that the coffin is taking, and R. Yasa went forth to protect the coffin from the danger.”

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harsha,52 who explains that while the dead is usually to be honored as he was honored during his lifetime, in this case “this might not be considered honoring the dead,” that is, going forth to meet the coffin is of no worth. Rashash understands this differently:53 R. Assi is saying that if he had known that his mother would die while on her way to follow him to the Land of Israel, he never would have left Babylonia; he would not have fled from her. According to this opinion, R. Assi suffered from conscience pangs, that on his account his mother had troubled herself to take the arduous route to the Land of Israel, and in the end, he was responsible for her death.54 We followed the view of Maharsha above, and our analysis of the need to add this ending to the Babylonian version follows this first interpretation. R. Assi’s grief at leaving the Land of Israel cloaks his much greater distress composed of longing, love, and desire for the mother that are engarbed in the halakhic guise of the “father” (= the halakhah). This message, however, seems to be even more intense according to the second school of thought. In the end, not only is R. Assi remorseful for having left his mother and escaping to the Land of Israel, he blames himself for killing the “mother” because of his flight from her to the “father.” *** In the reading we have proposed, the narrative of R. Assi and his flight from his aged mother who pursues him is a daring, critical, and profound tale, in which the aggadah, in its unique artistic style, transmits a message that speaks to every time and place: that flight from ourselves, from the nonrational and threatening elements that swarm, unseen, in our inner world, is nothing more than escapism, even if is convenient for us to cloak them from ourselves and from society in terms of “religion” and “law.” 52 Loc. cit. See also R. Jacob Reischer, in Iyyun Yaakov, published in Ein Yaakov ad loc. 53 Loc. cit. 54 According to R. Samuel Strashun, this interpretation was already offered by Rabad in his scholia on Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hil. Mamrim (Laws of Rebels) 6:10, that R. Assi regretted having fled from his mother. See above, n. 25. Rovner, “Rav Assi,” pp. 106–8, 111, reads the narrative only in this way, and therefore views the ending, in which R. Assi regrets have left Babylonia, as Babylonian demagogy that is directed against aliyah to the Land of Israel.

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Without any explicit statement in this spirit, the aggadah leaves us with the impression that the halakhah, the system of “law,” frequently camouflages forbidden proclivities and desires, when it would be more correct to openly face them and initiate a sincere dialogue with these cravings This would be preferable to seeking to evade them by external escape routes that leave us with a confused identity, a bewilderment that eventually harms modes of religious worship, even if these “escape routes” seem for a fleeting moment to be very convenient and highly seductive. The aim of this chapter, to uncover the concealed dialogue between aggadah and halakhah in the Rabbinic world, would be finely served, in conclusion, with a quotation from Yonah Frenkel. After studying a number of Rabbinic narratives that deal with such topics, Frenkel, with different tools and formulation, also reached a conclusion that resembles ours, and accordingly supports the reading proposed above: The heroes of the tales55 […] act with complete personal freedom. No book of law directed them to act as they did, and no voice from Heaven guided them to do what they did. The halakhah within the halakhic text, as an imperative, directs man’s actions. The tellers of the aggadah take man out of this framework and present the halakhah as a challenge to the free man: to understand it from anew, and to act within it according to his independent religious comprehension.56

55 That were cited and discussed by Yonah Frenkel in his article (see following n.). 56 Frenkel, “Place of Halakhah,” p. 215.

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Chapter 4 The Female Breast and the Mouth Opened in Prayer Little angel, little angel, the truth of the matter is that you are an angel when you dwell above, in Heaven […] be so good as to come down to the earth […] and we will see if then, too, you will boast of being an angel. (R. Moses of Kobrin, Amarot Tehorot, p. 49, s.v. “Gam Zeh Amar”)

The Narrative of the Intervention by the Mother of R. Ahadboi in the Study Hall Quarrel The beit midrash (study hall) of the Rabbis was composed solely of male scholars,1 and Talmudic narratives that present us with scenes of female penetration into the inner circles of this male preserve are highly irregular. The Talmudic narrative set forth below is singular in that the reader is shown a spontaneous feminine sortie – exceptional in its emotional and symbolic force – directly into the very heart of this closed male world.2 This narrative from the Babylonian Talmud (Bava Batra 9a–b) opens with the citing by the Amora Rabba of an aggadic teaching that he had heard from a Rabbi with the strange appellation of “ila [a suck1 This position, that erects a tangible barrier to the entrance of women to the beit midrash, was even more rigid in the Babylonian society in which this narrative is set (in the first half of the fourth century) than in the Land of Israel society. See Boyarin, Carnal Israel, pp. 167–79. 2 Chana Safrai examined several narratives in which women enter the beit midrash, and reached the general conclusion that the woman is presented in them as an “outsider” who infiltrates into a realm not hers. This led to additional conclusions regarding the essential female character (such as sensitivity to suffering, in contrast with the “masculine” legal system). See Safrai, “Women in the Beit Midrash.” The study by Shulamit Valler, Women in Jewish Society, examines various instances in the Talmudic literature that relate to women who are present in clearly male domains (see below, n. 34).

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ling]3 who perverted [meshagesh] the ways of his mother,” that is, an ul (suckling infant),4someone of a tender age, who has confounded5 the ways of his mother. After mentioning this appellation, the Talmud wonders why this Rabbi was so called, and in order to provide an answer, we are presented with a complex halakhic discussion between two Rabbis: R. Ahadboi and R. Sheshet, that revolves around the laws of “a metzora [someone suffering from a skin disease; commonly translated as “leper”] who was cleansed of his tzarato [skin disease].” As is related in the end of this discussion, R. Ahadboi (who apparently succeeded in undermining the entire structure of R. Sheshet’s arguments) diverges from the original issue, and deflects their conversation from a dry, focused discussion of the question at hand to the personal level, by mocking and deriding his fellow, whose positions were refuted by him, each in its turn.6 I will now present the Talmudic narrative in its original HebrewAramaic, with a translation into English:7

3 Or, in many versions: “Xlvi ” (Ulla). See Rabbinovicz, Dikdukei Soferim, vol. 11: Bava Batra, p. 38, Ot d . 4 Sokoloff, Dictionary, p. 115 (following Epstein, Prolegomena, p. 220, and the Yemenite tradition), prefers to assert, regarding both versions of “XlyX ” and “Xlyi ,” that this word is not from the Hebrew lvi , but from the Syrian, with the meaning of “foal”; see below, note 44. 5 The Aramaic root > ’’g> means “to disturb,” “upset”; see Sokoloff, Dictionary, 1109. 6 For the confusing intermingling of points of personal honor in beit midrash affairs, see, e.g., the narrative about R. Johanan and Resh Lakish (BT Bava Metzia 84a); the narrative concerning R. Ishmael ben R. Yose and Abdan (Yevamot 105b). For the tendency of the aggadah to examine the questions of formality, status, and honor in the world of the beit midrash. See chapter 1, n. 27; chapter 2, n. 55; chapter 3, n. 4 (see also Frenkel, Aggadic Narrative, pp. 354–55 for a heated clash in the beit midrash). See also Urbach, Sages, pp. 625–27. 7 Following Bava Batra, ed. Epstein-Abramson, p. 14; see also the glosses by Rabbinovicz, Dikdukei Soferim, pp. 38–39, esp. Ot n , regarding the uncertainties that emerge from other versions regarding the identity of the mute Amora. I also examined MS. Hamburg (Nezikin), and noted only the differences that are significant for our discussion. On this manuscript, see Kutscher, “Study of Aramaic Grammer,” pp. 174–77; Friedman, “Genealogy,” pp. 104, 140.

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hym>m hymyXd hytxrX >g>m Xlyi yl yit>yX (Xtlym Xh ) :Xbr rmX .1 :rzilX ybrd – ]vyr>k hqdj >blyv bytkd yXm [X lvdg ]vyr>l tprujm hpylqv hpylq lk – hz ]vyr> hm „l rmvl […] .lvdg ]vb>xl tprujm huvrpv huvrp lk – hqdj ?hymyXd hytxrX >g>m Xlyi hyl vrq yXmX :t>> brm ymX rb yvbdxX br hynym Xibd .5 ?,dX Xmum vrvpc ymyb irvjm> ]ynm .,dX Xmum – ,ydgb Xmumv lyXvh :hyl rmX ,,ydgb Xmumd hlbn uych Xhd ?ynX> ,yrvbyxb hXmvu Xmlyd hyl rmX .,dX Xmum vnyXv ?,ydgb Xmumd ,v>m vXl ?]lnm ,dX Xmumd /r> XlXv :hyl rmX ."/r> lkb igy r>X >yX vX" hyb bytk Xydhb /r> :l "X .10 ,ydgb Xmumv lyXvhd ,v>m vXl ?]lnm ,dX Xmumd irz tbk> XlX ?,dX Xmum .igvnh tX tvbrl – ">yX vX " hyb bytk Xydhb ymn irz tbk> :hyl rmX .Xtvxydbb hyl rdhX .t>> brd hytid >lx .hydvmlt rqytXv ymX rb yvbdxX br qtt>yX .15 .hb xg>X Xlv hxvvjv hxvvj .hymq Xykb Xqv hymyX XytX !vhyynym tyjmd 8yydx ynhl yzx :hyl hrmX .yctyXv hyli ymxr Xib Translation to English: 1. Rabba said: (The following) was told to me by ila [a suckling] who perverted [meshagesh] the ways of his mother, in the name of R. Eleazar: What is the meaning of the verse “He donned righteousness like a coat of mail” [Isa. 59:17]9

8 On the question of the correct reading: “yydx ” or “yydt ” (both with the meaning of “breasts”; the double yod adds the meaning of “my breasts,” albeit without asserting that he nursed from these specific breasts), see Epstein, Studies, vol. II, Part 1, p. 562 n. 10. In either event, the Aramaic source exhibits the common phenomenon in the Rabbinic literature of paronomasia, or in modern terminology, punning (hazei [behold] – tadei). On this phenomenon, see Frenkel, Aggadic Narrative, pp. 174–97. The version in MS. Hamburg is “ydd ,” and thus in MS. Escorial. 9 The verse in Isaiah presents God as a warrior who sets forth to battle in defense of His people, and the salvation that He provides for them proves His right-

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– to teach you, that just as in this coat of mail, in which each small scale joins with others to form a large piece of armor,10 so, too, righteousness: every small sum joins together with other small sums to form a large total. […] Why was he called “ila [a suckling] who perverted [meshagesh] the ways of his mother”?11 5. Because R. Ahadboi bar Ammi asked R. Sheshet: When do we infer that a metzora [a person suffering from a skin disease; commonly translated “leper”] while counting [his days, for purification] renders a person unclean?12 He replied: Since he renders garments unclean,13 he renders a person unclean. He [R. Ahadboi] said to him: Perhaps uncleanness regarding [clothes, that are] attached [i.e., that the person actually wears], is different,14

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eousness. The exegete links God’s righteousness (tzedakah) with the concept of tzedakah as charity that is given to the poor. On this meaning of tzedakah as a linguistic innovation of the Rabbis, that teaches that they did not regard the giving of charity as mere generosity, but as an obligation linked to the concept of justice (tzedek), see Sarfatti, “Semantics,” pp. 31–32. This armor consists of metal scales; see I Sam. 17:5. As was noted, the Talmud answers this question by citing the halakhic discussion that resulted in the affording of this strange appellation to R. Ahadboi bar Ammi. The following discussion is between R. Ahadboi and R. Sheshet. (thus the interpretation of Tosafot, Nahmanides, and Tosafot Rid [Isaiah di Trani] ad loc.; but see below, note 26). Lev. 14 prescribes that the metzora who is cured of his affliction is examined by the priest. This is immediately followed by a ceremony, after which the metzora no longer imparts impurity to a house by his entering it, nor does he impart uncleanness to what he lies upon or what he sits upon. He still, however, “imparts impurity as a swarming thing” (according to the commentary by Rashi on M Nega’im 14:2), and he may not come in sexual contact with his wife, until the completion of the seven days of his purification; and after his shaving and purification immersion on the seventh day, he will be finally pure only on the eighth day, after having brought his offerings to the Temple. R. Sheshet is accordingly asked what is the source of the accepted halakhah that even within the seven days of this count the metzora still imparts impurity to other humans like a “swarming thing.” For Lev. 14:9 states that “he shall wash his clothes” on the seventh day. “Such as the items of his clothing, that are like him. No impurity, however, is imparted to other garments that he touches, and, similarly, if he touches a person” (Rashi ad loc., s.v. “Tum’ah be-Hibburin”). That is, the question of impurity is more severe when he is wearing clothes; he therefore is told to “wash” (= immerse), that is, to purify, the garments that he wore. It may not, however, be concluded from this that even if he came into contact with another person that he thereby transmitted this impurity to the latter.

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[, the proof for this being] for the lifting of a carcass renders the garments unclean but does not render the person unclean?15 He [R. Sheshet] responded: Whence do we know that a creeping thing renders a person unclean? Is it not because it renders garments unclean?16 10. He [R. Ahadboi] replied: It is explicitly written regarding a creeping thing: “or if a man [>yX vX ] touches any swarming thing [by which he is made unclean or any human being by whom he is made unclean – whatever his uncleanness – Lev. 22:5].”17 [This leads R. Sheshet to propose:] How then do we know that semen renders a person unclean? Do we not say, since it renders garments unclean, it [similarly] renders a person unclean! He [R. Ahadboi] replied: It is also explicitly stated regarding semen18 [As it says: “If one touches anything made unclean by a corpse, or if a man has an emission of semen”19 that is interpreted by the following exposition] – “or if a man” – to include the one who touches.20 He [R. Ahadboi] responded in a joking21 manner. R. Sheshet felt bad.22 15 “It is written concerning the one who moves a carcass: ‘anyone who carries its carcass shall wash his clothes’ [Lev. 11:40]; we did not find [in the Torah] that from now on, [in addition to the impurity imparted to his garments] he would be an archetype of impurity to impart impurity to another person and other garments” (Rashi ad loc.). 16 R. Sheshet thought that the halakhah that a person who came into contact with someone who had contracted “swarming thing” impurity was also impure is based in the logic that requires drawing an analogy from the fact that someone suffering from swarming thing impurity imparts impurity to garments, leading us to conclude that a person who comes into contact with this impure individual also contracts impurity. 17 That is, if he touched a person who had been defiled by a carcass of a swarming thing, he, too, becomes unclean. Most important, however, is the second half of the verse, which was not cited in the interests of brevity or was omitted by the copyists (the second half of the verse appears only in MS. Munich 95). 18 That also imparts impurity to people who come into contact with it, and not only to the individual who had the emission of semen. 19 Lev. 22:4–5. 20 I.e., including anyone who comes into contact with an emission of semen, and not only the individual who actually experienced the emission. On this point, R. Ahadboi rejects all of R. Sheshet’s proposals, since he sensed that R. Sheshet (according to the latter’s halakhic reasoning) was frustrated by his inability to offer any further answer. 21 I.e, deprecatory. 22 I.e., he was greatly offended. On the expression “hytid X>lx ,” see Mualem, “’Grief,” who examines the meaning of the expression in various sources in the

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15. [As punishment for this,] R. Ahadboi bar Ammi fell silent,23 and forgot his learning. The mother [of R. Ahadboi bar Ammi] came and wept before him.24 She screamed and screamed, but he [R. Sheshet] paid no heed to her [consequently, she bared her breasts]. [After she had bared her breasts before him,] she said to him: See these breasts from which you have sucked!25 He [R. Sheshet] prayed for him [R. Ahadboi, who had previously affronted R. Sheshet and had accordingly lost the power of speech] and [as a result of this prayer] he was cured [of his muteness].26

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Babylonian Talmud. She concludes that it always expresses “tremendous emotion, that leads to a dramatic turn in the narrative” (p. 83). The dramatic turn is caused because a person so described is “a weak [halash] person who has lost his [mental] bearings [da’ato], and it is his weakness that gives the story its dramatic power.” An additional interesting conclusion reached by Mualem is that in many narratives in which this expression is mentioned, the offending party (who caused the hulshat ha-da’at of the offended party) dies at the end of the narrative (p. 83). I.e., lost the power of speech. Before R. Sheshet, that he forgive her son for the insult that R. Sheshet had suffered, so that her son could recover. In MS. Hamburg: Xxvj Xxvj hymyX yXtX ” “hb xg>X Xlv (his mother screamed and screamed, but he paid no heed to her”). Thus, this version does not state that she wept before him. Following this display, those Rishonim (mentioned above, n. 11) determined that this woman, R. Ahadboi’s mother, had been R. Sheshet’s wet nurse. This scene, however, could also be interpreted as her telling R. Sheshet that, in general, he had suckled in his infancy from breasts such as hers. Incidentally, R. Sheshet is known to us, from many Talmudic passages, to be blind. If so, how could the mother of R. Ahadboi have demanded that he gaze upon her bared bosom? It would therefore seem that this episode occurred before R. Sheshet had lost his sight. Similarly, BT Berakhot 57a contains another narrative in which R. Sheshet saw a serpent in a dream, and later killed it. See Hyman, Toldoth, vol. 3, p. 1233. See also Yaari, Hebrew Booklore, pp. 126–27. Since he had caused his mother to act in such a bizarre fashion, he was given the appellation of “Ila [an infant] who perverted the ways of his mother.” The interpretation of this narrative presented here follows the majority view of the Rishonim. It should be noted, however, that Rashi understood the entire vignette differently. He maintains that “Ila who perverted the ways of his mother” is the appellation applied to R. Sheshet, and the mother in the story is the mother of R. Sheshet, who bared her breasts before her son out of her concern for R. Ahadboi, who had fallen mute (see Rashi ad loc, s.v. “Ula Meshagesh”; s.v. “Atya Imayh”; see also Hyman, Toldoth, vol. 3, p. 1231, who finds justification for the interpretation held by most of the Rishonim, as opposed to that of Rashi, since it is not plausible that R. Sheshet would refuse his mother’s entreaties).

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The key to understanding this enigmatic narrative seemingly is to be found in the motif of the male mouth and its relationship with the breast. The body of this article will be devoted to an examination of the relationship between these two elements.

A Discussion of the Elements of the Narrative The closed world of the male Rabbis of the study hall was supposed to represent for society as a whole the dimension of sanctity, the revelation of the divine will in the earthly world. The disagreement that is cited in this narrative revolves around the interpretation of the laws of God in His Torah. It is implicitly assumed that the disclosure of the truth embodied in the laws of the Torah, the discovery of this divine will, will bring humans closer to their God. The two Rabbis in our anecdote are therefore occupied with questions pertaining to the interpretation of the purity laws, out of the desire to reveal the true meaning of the word of God in the Torah; the interpretive effort itself, as well, is most likely perceived by them as possessing inherent value, and as drawing them closer to God.27 This 27 Among the different ways found in the midrash to express this idea, the metaphor of kissing is of especial interest. Thus, e.g., R. Johanan expounds the kiss in Song of Songs 1:2: “Oh, give me the kisses of your mouth” as if the Israelites had requested at Sinai: “Bring forth for us kisses from His mouth” (see Cant.Rabbah 1:12, ed. Dunsky, p. 12). For the purifying role of such kisses, the “kisses of the Torah,” see Song of Songs Rabbah, loc. cit., the statement attributed to R. Nehemiah: “When Israel heard ‘You shall have [no other gods beside Me – Exod. 20:3],’ the evil inclination was uprooted from their hearts. They came to Moses and said to him: ‘You must be made the messenger between us [and God],’ as it is said: ‘You speak to us, and we will obey […] lest we die’ [Exod. 20:16]. The evil inclination immediately returned to its place. They returned to Moses and said: Our master Moses, if only He would reveal to us a second time, if only ‘give me the kisses of your mouth!’ He replied: ‘This is not for now, but for the future, as it is written: “I will remove the heart of stone from your body” [Ezek. 36:26].’” For this reason Torah study is perceived by the exegetes of the aggadah as an action that expels the evil inclination, and they therefore propose: “‘Oh, give me the kisses of your mouth’ – purify me. This is like a person who joins together [meshik – from the same root as neshikah, kiss] two [water] pits [to have the proper measure of water for a ritual bath, so that the immersion will indeed purify] one to the other, and he [does indeed] join them, as it is said: ‘and spoil was gathered [shokek] as locusts are gathered [ke-mashak]’ [Isa. 33:4].” See the extensive discussion: Kosman, “Breath,” pp. 117ff.

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devekut [adherence to God] means, first and foremost, distancing oneself from all that is defined in the Bible as impure. This, then, is the opening scene of our story, that portrays two Rabbis who are absorbed in a complex discussion that is woven of the fine details28 of the total distancing from contact with the metzora, the reptile, and an emission of semen, that is demanded of the individual who directs himself to the dimension of “purity.” Since, in the religious act (consisting of the very commandment to clarify) connected with the distinction between “impure” and “pure,”29 and in the space delineated for this in which we find ourselves – the “beit midrash,”30 we accordingly could anticipate that the Rabbis who are engaged in this sacred task would have no personal interest in the subjects, and that the questions-and-answers recorded in our protocol of the deliberations would undoubtedly be part of the impersonal activity of “adherence” to God. Between the lines, however, of this halakhic protocol, the human, earthly dimension, the “impure” aspect, suddenly emerges from within a dense text that contains a detached, intellectual discussion. It transpires that this halakhic “deliberation” that masquerades as a contentual dialogue is none other than a simple personal clash, with the hallowed interpretive-hermeneutical tools serving as weapons in the 28 This thicket of details apparently played an important role in the literary fashioning of our narrative. The halakhic discussion in our case concerns theoretical halakhot that, following the destruction of the Temple, have no practical significance; nor were they of any practical import when the Temple still stood, as well, because the Rabbis are simply discussing the Scriptural support for the halakhah. Consequently, the diligence exhibited by these two Amoraim to a detailed clarification of these laws emphasizes dedication to the study of God’s Torah for its own sake, and not for some external practical purpose. 29 For the central standing of this distinction in religious life, see Durkheim, Elementary Forms, p. 52; for ramifications of this perception for the religious worldview, see the premise of Zimmerman, From Thee to Thee, p. 50. 30 See below, n. 45. This position, that presents the beit midrash, and especially the location where halakhic deliberations are conducted, as a sacred place that replaced the Temple after the latter’s destruction, is expressed in numerous Rabbinic dicta. See, e.g., BT Berakhot 8a: “R. Hisda said: What is the meaning of the verse: ‘The Lord loves the gates of Zion, more than all the dwellings of Jacob’ [Ps. 87:2] – the Lord loves the gates that are distinguished through halakhah more than synagogues and study halls. This corresponds with what R. Hiyya bar Ammi said in the name of Ulla: Since the day that the Temple was destroyed, the Holy One, blessed be He, has nothing in His world save the four cubits of halakhah.”

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hands of these Rabbis to attack one another. Indeed, we have ringside seats to the intrusion of the “external” world, that should have remained beyond the bounds of the “realm of the holy.” This personal, egocentric, “masculine” dimension, that fights for its private interest, suddenly penetrates the beit midrash, entering the halakhic discussion itself. This belligerent strain of the life experience beyond the “realm of he holy” could even lead the two protagonists, in their anger, to a physical duel in defense of their honor.31 In our narrative this masculine dimension therefore garbs itself in borrowed clothes, and in a very ironical fashion it bursts into the study hall, just when the latter is occupied with the smallest practical details of the topics relating to the expulsion of “impurity” from the “realm of the holy.” It transpires, therefore, that the “creeping thing” that the Rabbis examine with such intellectual vigor is in no way a theoretical reptile, nor does it belong to the “halakhah of the Messianic era,” as would seem at first glance. No, this is the internal detestable thing that clandestinely slithers, unobserved, into the religious process itself.32 We now see the beginning of this Talmudic passage in a different light. The unit begins with an exegesis that depicts God as a “male warrior” clad in armor, a “masculine” portrayal of God that closely con31 Cf., e.g., what is related in BT Bava Metzia 84a concerning the meeting of Resh Lakish and R. Johanan in the Jordan River, as the reverse parallel of Torah study in the beit midrash, with physical strength and weaponry, as expressed in the text: “he thrust his spear into the [earth next to the] Jordan” (according to certain textual versions). See Boyarin, Carnal Israel, p. 8; idem, “Rabbis and Their Pals, pp. 58–65; and the expansion by Kosman, Men’s World, pp. 41–60. 32 For the relationship between inner impurity and legal impurity, see the view cited in a baraita in PT Nazir 6:1, 56a, that permits a priest to incur impurity in order to study Torah: see Urbach, Sages, p. 978 n. 98; see also the comment by Boyarin, Carnal Israel, pp. 49–52; cf. Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hil. Mikvaot (Laws of Ritual Baths) 11:12: “There is some indication of this: just as one who sets his heart on becoming clean becomes clean as soon as he has immersed himself, although nothing new has happened to his body, so, too, the one who sets his heart on cleansing his soul of the manners of uncleanness that are incurred by men’s souls, namely, wrongful thoughts and false convictions, becomes clean as soon as he subscribes in his heart to abandon those counsels and brings his soul into the waters of pure reason.” See Urbach, op cit., p.951–952 n. 53, for the negation by Jesus of the value of ritual purity see Regev, “Jesus”. On the excessive emphasis placed by the Qumran sect on purity of the spirit over the purity of the flesh see Licht, Rule Scroll, pp. 75–76; Schiffman, Law, p. 252 nn. 68–69.

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forms with the continuation of the Talmudic sugyah: the reader learns from this introductory statement that the same “mouth” that is meant to teach the word of God in its Oral Law formulation is the same “two-edged rapier” with which one Rabbi smites his fellow, within the very heart of the founding act of the religious process, within the most profound level of the procedure by which the Talmudic interpretive text is forged, within the beit midrash.33 Consequently, this “mouth” is indeed stifled: both Rabbis fall silent. R. Ahadboi becomes mute and forgets all his studies, while R. Sheshet, in his suppressed rage, is incapable of responding to the mother who screams before him in the study hall.34 His silence is not that of acquiescence and inner tranquility, but one that conceals a raging of the soul. R. Sheshet is deafened by his anger to the screams of the mother, nor is be able to fulfill her request to pray for her son, because he is outraged at the latter. This anger does not allow the opening of the mouth for prayer. In order to pray, the mouth must open; but not this mouth, that until now had been a two-edged rapier between the two Rabbis, but another orifice, a pure mouth that comes from the heart, one that is capable of communicating with God from anew. Only the astounding act of uncovering the breasts (or, in other words: uncovering the heart [= candor])35 before the eyes of R. Sheshet, and the daring expression by R. Ahadboi’s mother of R. Sheshet’s nursing with his mouth that finally releases the flow of speech; only now does R. Sheshet’s mouth open in prayer to God, which in turn releases the stopper of R. Ahadboi’s muteness. The readers of the story stop at this point and wonder: why is the “insane” behavior in the beit midrash by this woman36 not maligned 33 For similar criticism of sages who insert their ego into the deliberations in the beit midrash in another Talmudic narrative, see Kosman, Men’s World, pp. 51–52. 34 The portrayal of a woman as screaming, instead of talking, is typical of the Talmudic perception; see Valler, Women and Womanhood, 99–121. This is also characteristic of the general image of women during the medieval period, as well; see Klapisch-Zuber, History, p. 425. 35 For breasts as “lev” (lit., “heart”) in the language of the Rabbis, see M Sotah 1:5: “R. Judah says: If her bosom [lev] was comely, he did not lay it bare.” 36 For the mother as one who is frequently depicted in the Talmudic sources as one close to insanity, see Valler, Women and Womanhood, pp. 99–106, and see chapter 3, n. 22.

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and rejected by R. Sheshet? And why does this puzzling conduct have an immediate effect on him, that, as if a magician had waved his wand above the Rabbi, results in an about-face by R. Sheshet, who prays for his disputant, R. Ahadboi?37 How are we to explain the role of the breasts in this narrative as the corkscrews of the male mouth? This article will suggest a number of possibilities to decipher the symbolic message embodied in this provocative act.38

Baring One’s Breasts as an Act of Protest On one level, this performance can be viewed as an aggressive and desperate protest by the mother of R. Ahadboi. There is a great deal of aggressiveness in the uncovering of her breasts before a man,39 and it could almost be seen in an associative manner in our mind’s eye as

37 Valler, Women in Jewish Society, p. 107, is of the opinion that the wording “She screamed and screamed, but he paid no heed to her” indicates that the Talmudic narrator views the behavior of this woman in a negative light. Accordingly, her action was not worthy of any response by R. Sheshet, who did not relate to her, and remained silent. Valler’s comments on this point, however, are puzzling, since she herself notes (106) that R. Sheshet, who “was shocked, prayed for Ahadboi, and the latter was healed of his shock and his muteness.” It therefore is clear that R. Sheshet did not regard the act of baring her breasts as an act of madness that was not worthy of response; to the contrary, this act caused him to act in accordance with the mother’s supplication. 38 Since a literary reading, by its very nature, does not compel us to prefer any single interpretive proposal over others, it need not be presupposed that one reading must necessarily invalidate another. 39 In a similar spirit, but in a different manner, in his book Tosefet Berakhah Rabbi Baruch ha-Levi Epstein explains this episode of exposing herself as a form of pressure upon the son exerted by his mother (according to Rashi’s explanation), since in extreme situations it was customary to curse the mother for her son’s actions: “The reason why he agreed to her request when she recalled to him his having suckled from her is to be understood […] that when a person corrupts his way, his mother is cursed, and people say, ‘cursed are the breasts that nursed this one.’ She alluded to him by this [act] that she might be cursed for his having so stubbornly refused to forgive a Torah scholar in his distress. We then learn that after he was responsible for causing his mother to be cursed, he changed his mind from being additionally obstinate; he was amenable to her [request], and he forgave him” (Epstein, Tosefet Berakhah, p. 227). According to this explanation, however, there is no need for the tangible bodily gesture of baring the breasts, and the general threat of being cursed suffices.

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an action reminiscent of the “drawing of a gun,” to use a modern parallel.40 The unvoiced message of the woman seems to be: the sanction afforded to you men to control the God-given knowledge and direct the beit midrash, and thereby elevate yourselves above women in the hierarchical scale, is based on the assumed ability of men (gevarim) to overcome (ligbor) their passions41 and act in a manner free of personal interests as you engage in the interpretation of God’s Torah.42 If, however, we now learn that you are not worthy of this mantle that you have assumed, this means, in terms of the hierarchical scale, that you remain as suckling infants who have not been weaned.

40 Koenig, A la Mode, p. 193, tells of a similar event that happened during his time: within a certain academic context, several female students suddenly began to dance, bare-breasted, before an “outstanding German philosopher” (the intent is apparently to Jorgen Habermans), who immediately left the room, shocked, with his lips sealed, and unable to utter a single word! (Cited by Yalom, History, p. 246; see ad loc., an additional case that occurred in France in the 1970s.) For the modern use of breast baring as an element of anti-male protest, and political protest in general, see Yalom, History, 241–74; for the exposing of breasts in Western art in order to arouse political sentiments, see Pointon, Naked Authority, pp. 59–82. 41 See, e.g., M Avot 4:1: “Ben Zoma says: […] Who is mighty [gibor]? He who subdues his [evil] inclination”; see below, the following n.; Kosman, Men’s World, pp. 20, 35. 42 This “masculinity [gavriyut]” is frequently understood as the ability to control one’s emotions and urges, that enables the sage to direct himself to the true meaning of the Torah. R. Eliezer ben Hyrcanus (first century CE) already delivered the pronouncement that “whoever teaches his daughter Torah, teaches her tiflut [vanity or licentiousness],” thereby assuming that only males have been blessed with the ability to correctly interpret the word of the Lord in His Torah, without resulting in “divrei tiflut” (for the exact meaning of the term tiflut, see Boyarin, Carnal Israel, p. 171 n. 3; Hauptman, Rereading the Rabbis, p. 23; see also the explanation by Mirkin in Midrash Rabbah, vol. 3, p. 108 [on Gen. Rabbah 70:11]. For the parallel sources in the Greek world, see Halevi, Historical-Biographical, pp. 360–62. These positions would later be formulated in the medieval period in extreme fashion by Maimonides, who writes: “the Sages have enjoined us that a man should not teach his daughter Torah, because most women do not have a mind that is directed towards study; they rather, because of their mental poverty, will trivialize the teachings of the Torah. The Sages said, ‘whoever teaches his daughter Torah, teaches her tiflut’” (Mishneh Torah, Hil. Talmud Torah [Laws of Torah Study] 1:13; see the discussion by Michael Hellinger, “Women’s Study of Torah,” pp. 31–40). For these Maimonidean views within a broader philosophical context, see Gordon, “Erotic.”

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The uncovering of the breasts is therefore a sort of provocative rebuke, meant to restore the masculine world of the beit midrash to its proper dimensions of authority and standing. From this perspective, that defines the disappointing male as a suckling infant, the latter, as in his primal state, must rely upon the maternal-feminine character, and not entertain pretensions of placing himself above her.43 R. Sheshet is therefore a yanuka (literally, a “suckling”), but R. Ahadboi, too, is an olal (with the same meaning), and therefore is called “Ila.”44 43 Additionally, it should be mentioned, that the breasts of the woman who is suspected of adultery and is brought to the Temple for the ceremony of being given the mayim me’arerim (“the water of bitterness that brings the curse”) are publicly bared, before the crowd of onlookers (see M Sotah 1:6; and the discussion by Halbertal, Interpretive Revolutions, pp. 106ff. The Mishnah also prescribes that the priest would tie a rope above her breasts; cf. the punishment of hanging: see Lieberman, “Sin and Its Punishment,” pp. 256–57. In this case, the uncovering of the woman’s bosom in a sacred place is an act of degradation, that is performed by the priest, and not by the woman of her own volition. At any rate, the Mishnah also contains an added caution by R. Judah concerning the danger of temptation that this entails (see above, n. 35). 44 See Rashi, ad loc. It should be noted that Sokoloff (above, n. 4) maintains that the name “XlyX ” = “Xlyi ,” meaning “foal.” This term however, even according to this interpretation, also preserves the element of ,ymyh lvi , the infant who suckles from his mother’s breasts, but with the additional meaning of “wild” and “beast.” In either event, the focus of our discussion is literary, and not linguistic, and it would seem that the fashioner of this Talmudic vignette based the wordplay on the connotations aroused for the reader by the Hebrew “ul” (= suckling infant). It should be noted that the attitude toward the exposing of the breasts during actual nursing is culture-dependent, and varies from one time to another, and from one culture to another. The midrash contains an example of the baring of the breasts that is unaccompanied by implied criticism: that of Sarah (that was done upon the request of Abraham, who asserted: “This is not the time for modesty”!) when she suckled Isaac in public view, in order to demonstrate that he was her son; see Gen. Rabbah 53:7, ed. Theodor-Albeck, p. 564; see the many sources listed by Abraham Stahl, Family, p. 384 n. 9, 394–95; see also Yalom, History, p. 126, and the discussion on pp. 272–74. It should be mentioned, however, that even if it could be argued, as does Stahl, that some were not strict in this respect, because at times a woman’s breasts were not considered to be sexually arousing, this was so only while nursing, since breasts without question were a cardinal seductive element in male-female relations. See, e.g., the counsel by R. Hisda to his daughters (BT Shabbat 78a; PT Sanhedrin 10:2, 29b). For the wayward conduct of Gehazi, and more, cf. Halevi, Values of the Aggadah, vol. 4, pp. 304–5, para. 18. Nonetheless, some Talmudic sources reveal a more “tolerant” attitude towards the uncovering of the breasts; see BT Berakhot 10a: “What is the meaning of ‘all His bounties [gemulav]’ [Ps. 103:2]?

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This stratum, that regards the uncovering of the breasts as an act of protest, can be supplemented by an additional, even more suggestive, dimension: this act of self-exposure within the sanctum sanctorum 45 could be seen as a daring feminine statement meant to overturn the existing social order with a single blow. A woman who bares her breasts uses her sexuality to upset the sacred structure of the complacent social order. Such an act is to be understood as an angry statement addressed to the male world: this is no longer a sacred space if you males turn it into a battlefield. This provocative complaint by the mother of R. Ahadboi is such a direct and stinging slap in the face that we can now understand why R. Sheshet not only did not regard her as a madwoman whose bizarre actions are to be ignored; to the contrary, following this protest, he undergoes an inner metamorphosis, one that enables him to forget all his past grievances, and wholeheartedly pray for the one who only moments before had been thought to be a coarse and despised adversary.

Baring One’s Breast as a Spiritual Expression On another level, however, and with a different perspective, the baring of her breasts by R. Ahadboi’s mother can be seen, not only as a negative act of protest, but as a positive action, that indicates the manner in which this rift may be healed, suggesting the religious truth that has been cast aside in the study hall. Such a reading views the breasts that have been uncovered in the beit midrash as an archetypical religious symbol. This symbolic dimension of breasts appears in different variations in numerous midrashim; and in several additional midrashic sources, the Torah itself is designated as “breasts.” Thus, for example, the midrash comments on the call to assemble at the place of the Lord in Joel 2:16: “Gather the people, bid the congregation purify R. Abbahu said: That He placed her breasts at the source of understanding. What is the reason for this? R. Judah said: So that [the infant] would not look upon the place of nakedness [i.e., the genital area]. R. Mattana said: So that he would not nurse from a foul place.” 45 Whether this was a certain architectural structure, a sort of academy, or a smaller context, such as a limited circle of students that would gather around the rabbi. This question is the subject of scholarly debate. See Goodblatt, “New Developments”; Gafni, “Concerning D. Goodblatt’s Article.” This issue, however, is not of decisive importance for our literary depiction of the event.

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themselves, bring together the old, gather the babes [,yllvi ] and the sucklings at the breast [,yd> yqnyv ]”: “The sucklings at the breast” – “breasts” means the Torah, as it is said, “That you may suck from her breast consolation to the full” [Isa. 66:11].46

The symbol of nursing now appears in another sense: as a common metaphor for the uninterrupted transmission of the Oral Law over the course of time. Thus, the midrash compares Moses and Aaron to a woman with breasts who nurses the Rabbis. According to this midrashic picture, the initial state of Torah scholars is indeed that of the suckling infant, who is nourished by the “mother’s milk” of God’s Torah.47 Thus, for example, the interpretation by the exegete of the verse “Your two breasts are like two fawns” (Song. 4:5) in Cant. Rabbah 4:12:48 “Your two breasts” – these are Moses and Aaron. Just as these breasts are the beauty and the ornament of a woman, so, too, are Moses and Aaron the beauty and ornament of Israel. Just as these breasts are the charm of a woman, so, too, are Moses and Aaron the charm of Israel. Just as these breasts are the glory and pride of a woman, so, too, are Moses and Aaron the glory and pride of Israel. Just as these breasts are full of milk, so, too, do Moses and Aaron fill Israel with the Torah. And just as from whatever the woman eats the infant eats and is nourished from these breasts, so, too, all the Torah that our master Moses learned, he taught to Aaron, for it is written, “Moses told Aaron all the words of the Lord” [Ex. 4:28]. The Rabbis say: He revealed to him the shem hameforash [the Tetragrammaton]. Just as one of these breasts is not greater than the other, so, too, were Moses and Aaron, for it is written, “the same Moses and Aaron” [Ex. 6:27], and it is written, “the same Aaron and Moses” [ibid., v. 26] – Moses is not greater than Aaron, nor is Aaron greater than Moses in [knowledge of] the Torah.49 46 Seder Eliyahu Rabba, chapter 20, ed. Friedmann, p. 112. See also the exegesis by Rabba in BT Pesahim 87a: “‘I am a wall’ [Song 8:10] – this is Kenesset Israel [the Israelite nation], and ‘my breasts are like towers’ [ibid.] – these are the synagogues and study halls.” For the parallel common Christian imagery, that presents the Church as the mother nursing its faithful with the milk of religion, see Yalom, History, pp. 43–45. 47 This might possibly also be connected with the preference by the Talmudic tradition for the term “talmid hakham” (literally, pupil-sage) to the simple “hakham” (= sage). See Ginzberg, Students, Scholars and Saints, pp. 35–58 (and in the plural: talmid hakahamim, see 267–68, n. 5; Kister, Studies, p. 257 n. 58; the sources in Sperber, Derech Eretz Zutta, p. 77; cf. the laudatory appellation “tiron” in the world of the Zen masters, Suzuki, Zen Mind, esp. pp. 21–22. 48 Ed. Dunsky, p. 111. 49 See also Midrash Zuta, Song of Songs, ed. Buber, para. 8, 39: “‘If only it could be as with a brother, as if you had nursed at my mother’s breast’ [Song 8:1] – this is the spirit of divine inspiration possessed by Moses.”

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We learn from this midrash that the exegete regards Torah study as an action similar to nursing; if so, it could plausibly be assumed that this tradition perceives (as is asserted explicitly in similar Christian traditions50) the Torah as first received by Moses by “suckling” from God,51 and Moses later transmitted it to Aaron by “nursing,” as well. From this point on, the other Torah scholars in each generation are to “suckle” from Moses and Aaron, the first transmitters of the Torah,52 and to “nurse” the olalim who follow them through the succeeding generations.53 The exposed breasts, so it would seem necessary to explain this religious metaphor, are an extremely powerful religious symbol, that also connects the Rabbis to the clean and pure primal mental state of the olal while nursing. In other words, religious sensitivity and devekut (adherence to God) can truly develop only in a state proximate to that of the suckling infant, who lacks knowledge and confidence in his independent worth as an distinct entity.54

50 For the parallel Christian sources, see Marcus, Rituals of Childhood, pp. 89, 153 n. 58; Yalom, History, p. 44. Marcus, p. 88, presumes that milk and honey were central elements in these texts because they are produced without human intervention (whether mother’s milk or cow’s milk, whether honey from bees or from dates) and therefore symbolized God’s “suckling” of the people of Israel. Cf. also Yalom, History, p. 39 n. 45. 51 See also below, n. 68. 52 The giving of the Torah to Israel is presented in the midrash in various daring metaphorical guises; we therefore should not be surprised by the idea of the “nursing God” as an additional image. For the giving of the Torah as a kiss see above n. 27, and as blowing God’s breath see Kosman, “Breath.” 53 Such imagery is dispersed throughout the Talmudic literature; see, e.g., BT Kiddushin 49b: “What is poverty? Poverty of learning, as it is written, ‘We have a little sister, and she has no breasts’ [Song 8:8]”; see also the list of exegeses on this verse from the Song of Songs, Hyman, Torah, Part III: Hagiographa, p. 185. According to these sources, this metaphor was interwoven in expositions postdating those of the Rabbis; thus, e.g., the depiction by the Rabbi Mekikitz Israel Hadad, Aryeh Sha’ag, p. 96, of Torah study: “The men …] and also the boys go […] to study Torah at night, and there are breasts from which the men with their little boys nurse.” See Stahl, Family, 247. For an explanation of our narrative in this vein, albeit in an apologetic manner, see Schatzkes, Ha-Mafteah, pp. 161–62. For breasts as two Messiahs in the teachings of the Zohar, see Liebes, “Messiah,” p. 110 n. 97. 54 We should add to this the fact that Jewish tradition makes use of these exegeses that focus upon breasts and nursing as a symbolic background for the inauguration ceremonies of children who enter the world of Torah for the first time; see Marcus, Rituals of Childhood, pp. 88–94.

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The latter stratum, in contrast with the first stratum, does not emphasize the element of protest in the baring of the mother’s breasts, but actually the opposite: this exposure contains a dimension of the tempering of the masculine experience by the feminine one; in certain sources, the baring of breasts also contains an element of supplication.

Baring One’s Breasts as an Act of Entreaty A well-known story from the Greek world of the fourth century offers some support for this reading: a courtesan55 named Phryne was accused by one of her lovers of blasphemy against the gods, a grave sin punishable by death. When her advocate Hypereides learned during the course of the trial that the judges were about to convict her, he suddenly tore off her clothes and placed his hand on her beautiful breasts. This act aroused the judges’ sympathy and compassion, and they refrained from ordering her execution.56 Greek literature also contains two other examples, that are even closer to the tableau presented to us by the Talmudic narrative, and that stress the element of supplication in this physical gesture. In the Iliad by Homer, Hector’s parents Priam and Hecuba plead with him not to set out to battle against Achilles, but their son ignores their entreaties. In a show of maternal emotion, the mother wails and weeps. The text relates that […] his mother in her turn wailed and shed tears, loosening the folds of her robe, while with the other hand she held out her breast, and shedding tears she spoke to him winged words: “Hector, my child, respect this and pity me, if ever I gave you the breast to lull your pain. Think on these things, dear child […].”57

55 Women whose role in the Greek world was to supply men with sex and entertainment. For this group of women and their standing in the Greek world, see Apostolos-Cappadona, Encyclopedia, p. 174, s.v. “Hetaera.” 56 Athenaeus, The Deipnosophists, vol. 6, pp. 185–87. In later classical sources this physical gesture is presented as a rhetorical means that is given its force by the dazzling body of Phryne. See Quintilian, vol. 1, 304–5; Sextus Empiricus, 190–91 (I am grateful to Dr. Yosef Liberson for referring me to these sources). These later sources, however, may possibly divert the story to their own purposes, since their aim is to present nonverbal rhetorical means, and they are not overly troubled by the question as to whether the rhetorical persuasion is due to her beauty, or is caused by the element of compassion that is aroused by the sight of the breast. 57 Homer, Iliad, Book 22, ll. 80–84 (LCL ed.: pp. 458–59).

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In the play The Libation Bearers by Aeschylus, Clytemnestra bares her breast to her son Orestes, who comes to avenge the murder of Agamemnon after the Trojan War. The uncovering of her breasts is without question an act of entreaty. Upon revealing her bosom, Clytemnestra requests of Orestes: Stop, my son, and have respect, my child, for this breast, at which you many times drowsed while sucking the nourishing milk with your gums!58

Although the Christian tradition is more puritanical, the medieval iconography nonetheless offers a proof for such use of the female breast. The fourteenth-century painting of the Last Judgment above the wall of the English church in North Cove, Suffolk,59 depicts Mary mother of Jesus baring her breasts in an attempt to obtain mercy for a group of sinners who are doomed to perdition. Mary is portrayed as a queen wearing a crown, raising her hands in supplication before Jesus, with her magnificent breasts exposed to him. We may presume that the artist’s intent was that Jesus could not help but relent before his mother’s breasts, and he would be compelled to alleviate the harsh fate awaiting those unfortunate wretches.

Exposing One’s Breasts in the Midrashic Picture: A Gesture of Love and Giving In another midrashic depiction, that is unparalleled in its intensity, this orientation reaches dramatic heights unknown from any other sources. This singular physical gesture is transported beyond the symbolic meaning of entreaty and supplication, as it presents the actual dialogue that transcends the formal verbiage, thus reflecting a profound gesture of love and giving. The midrash in Lam. Rabbah tells of Miriam bat Tanhum, who fell into captivity at the time of the destruction of the Temple, together with her seven sons. Since they refused to bow down to idols and acknowledge their power, they were put to death, one after the other. 58 Aeschylus, Libation-Bearers, ll. 896–898 (ed. LCL, pp. 326–27). See the additional sources in Cohen, “Divesting the Female Breast,” p. 85 n. 26, with additional examples attesting to this proclivity: pp. 69ff. 59 Rouse, Medieval Wall Paintings, p. 60; see also Yalom, History, 36; for nursing as an action that expresses tenderness and love, see the extensive treatment by Yalom, loc. cit.

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According to the midrashic account, when the king came to the seventh son, the two protagonists engaged in a discussion of the son’s faith, at the conclusion of which the monarch ordered that he be killed, as well. The midrash then continues with a description of his mother Miriam’s behavior: His mother said to him, By the life of your head, Emperor, Give me my son that I may hug him and kiss him. He gave him to her, and she bared her breasts and nursed him with milk, to fulfill what is said: “Honey and milk are under your tongue” [Song 4:11]. His mother said to him: By the life of your head, Emperor, place the sword on my neck and on his neck together! He [the emperor] responded: Heaven forbid! He [= I] shall not do such a thing, for it is written in your Torah: “It shall not be slaughtered on the same day with its young” [Lev. 22:28]. That infant [tinok, literally, nursing infant] said to him: Wicked one, and have you observed the entire Torah besides this verse? They immediately seized him to kill him. His mother said to him: My son, let not your courage falter, do not be dismayed. You are going to be with your brothers, and you shall be within the bosom of our father Abraham; tell him for me: You built a single altar, and you did not sacrifice your son, while I built seven altars and I sacrificed my sons on them. Furthermore, you were [merely put to] the test, while I [performed] the act.60 […] It was said sometime later that this woman had gone mad, and she had climbed to the top of a roof and flung herself down to her death. The verse “a happy mother of children” [Ps. 113:9] was applied to her, and the holy spirit declares: “For these things I weep” [Lam. 1:16].61

In this midrash the mother had committed an act of “madness,” when she “sacrifices” her sons to God, one after the other, and finally, in her overwhelming grief, throws herself to her death. Within this chronicle, our attention is drawn to the provocative, and seemingly inappropriate, “act of madness” of nursing her son,62 that seems to insert an element of Eros in a tableau for which it is totally inappropriate, since this depiction is wholly in the realm of the thanatological. Here it would seem, however, that the effect of surprise this action generates within the oppressive space of the picture of death accents with greater force the symbolism of nursing as an act containing a distinct element of open-heartedness and an open mouth, alongside the vibrant dia60 That is, Abraham was only tested at the Binding of Isaac, while I now actually sacrifice my son. 61 Lam. Rabbah, ed. Buber, para. 1, p. 85. 62 According to the explanation in the midrash, her son was “six and a half years and two hours old.” This comment intensifies the bizarre and surprising nature of this suckling, since nursing at this age is extremely exceptional, even given the common practice of the time. For the accepted age until which nursing was continued, as indicated by the Rabbinic sources, see Stahl, Family, p. 381; p. 383 n. 6.

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logue. Consequently, it is replete with vitality and power, specifically because of its position within the pictures that totally encompass it in this midrash: depictions of cruelty, wickedness, and hard-heartedness. Galit Hasan-Rokem’s fine explanation adds greater clarity to the relationship in our narrative between the breast giving suck and the mouth that opens: She [Miriam] does not quote biblical verses63 but simply asks to kiss and embrace her son, and in a somewhat surprising move, nurses him. The act of nursing returns the mother-son relationship to its primary level, when direct bodily orality replaces the orality shaped by culture, in the form of speeches and the quoting of verses. The mother is not mute, however. Quite the contrary, she and her young son, united in the act of nursing, are two figures capable of developing a true dialogue, his more intellectual, hers more emotional. The direct orality of nursing is a kind of precondition for a living dialogue, as opposed to the static activity of quoting that characterizes the other figures.64

It is not related that R. Sheshet forgot his Torah, but we may presume that his harsh feelings of anger and enmity towards his fellow scholar and disputant R. Ahadboi confused his thoughts at the time.65 The “feminine breast-catharsis,” that releases the masculine “oral block,” does not immediately lead R. Sheshet back to the context of Torah study and his usual rational-intellectual pursuits, but first directs him to prayer, the “prayer of the heart” that is represented by the breasts – the feminine dimension to which he is exposed, as we have seen above.66

63 As do the males in our narrative, during their argument (see above). 64 Hasan-Rokem, Web of Life, pp. 117–18 (emphasis added); see also her references, pp. 244–45, n. 19, in the Hebrew version (The Web of Life). For amputated breasts as a symbol of martyrology, see also Apostolos-Cappadona, Encyclopedia, p. 54. 65 Something could probably be learned of R. Sheshet’s character from Rabba’s incidental comment that he was as “hard as iron”; see BT Menahot 95b; see Albeck, Introduction, p. 314. Cf. Bahya, Commentary on the Torah, on Num. 22:41, pp. 167–68, who understands the term “Halsha Da’atey” as a mental weakness that prevented the sage from studying Torah, which would have been a form of spiritual death for him, since “he could not [endure] without thinking of Torah for even a single moment. Since his mind and his thought were weakened, he was separated from the wisdom that he constantly contemplated. Whoever caused this to him was as a mekatzetz ba-netioth [i.e., alienated from God], and was deserving to have a curse placed upon him.” 66 Although women generally refrained from engaging in Torah study, the gates of prayer were not closed to them, nor did the Rabbis preclude the possibility of their directly addressing God Himself in their prayers; see Rosen-Zvi, “‘Woman Who Stood.’”

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This “prayer” is not an external activity, that is directed solely to a specific purpose, namely, a request that R. Ahadboi recover. Rather, its importance lies in the very mental change that enables R. Sheshet to pray. This, then, is a prayer for himself, just as it is a prayer for R. Ahadboi, one that relates to his own unhappy situation, his alienation from the very essence of his being, from his persona that is wracked by internal conflicts. This petition has the power to liberate him because he has now internalized the central lesson that he must learn. This is a lesson that, as in many other instances, was not learned from the texts and the life of the beit midrash themselves, whose alienated existence regarded questions of ritual purity as matters whose relevance is deferred to the Messianic era; a lesson that is learned specifically from contact with the world beyond the beit midrash, that penetrates the study hall in such a surprising manner.67 The “masculine” encounter with the female breasts caused R. Sheshet to abandon his stance as a warrior and his “male” position; from this point on, due to the transformation that his inner world has undergone upon the act of breast baring by the mother of R. Ahadboi, he stands in prayer as a supplicant, like the fledgling that awaits the tender ministrations of his nursing mother. *** This vignette, that opens with an exegesis that depicts the God of the beit midrash Rabbis as a “male” clad in armor setting out to war, concludes with a completely different presentation of the internal relations within the study hall: the Rabbis as olalim, who turn to a “nursing” God, with definite feminine aspect, with a prayer in their supplicant mouths, for they “suckle” from His mercies.68

67 For this phenomenon in the aggadic narrative, see Kosman, Men’s World, pp. 85–86. 68 For the feminine dimension in the perception of the divinity (and especially in relation to the symbol of breasts that was common in the various religions of ancient Egypt, Mesopotamia, Canaan, Greece, Rome, and India), see Yalom, History, pp. 9–48; Brandon, Dictionary of Comparative Religion, s.v. “Breast”; Apostolos-Cappadona, Encyclopedia, p. 54, s.v. “Breast”; Walker, Woman’s Dictionary, pp. 303–4. See also the hypothesis by Biale, Eros and the Jews, pp. 26–27 (based on idem, “God with Breasts”) that the divine name Shaddai is connected to shadayim (breasts) and to ancient fertility allusions to be found in the Bible (see also Eilberg-Schwartz, God’s Phallus, p. 115). See also Dan, “Something,” p. 155 n. 25.

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Chapter Five A Reading of the Creation Narrative: Femininity and Masculinity in the Prism of the Bible and the Midrash To now, we have examined different aspects of the femininity that confronted the masculine stance of the study hall sages. In this concluding chapter we will set aside the usual Talmudic texts that we examined in the preceding chapters, and return to the starting point of the Bible and Jewish tradition. This chapter will present a rereading of the Creation narrative, using the same methods that I employed in the previous chapters of this book: psychoanalytical theories and gender theories, that I seek to translate, with Buberian philosophical approaches, to a Jewish theological conception. To round out our exploration of gender issues, we will return to a discussion of the theoretical tools we presented in the introductory chapter, as we use them to present a dialogic reading of the Jewish Creation myth: a new reading of the Bible itself and of its accompanying midrash, in an attempt to eventually gain a clearer understanding of the nature of the theological upheaval Judaism experienced as regards femininity – a revolution that, I will argue, already began in the Bible. My proposed reading will enable us to understand how natural it was to find in the Rabbinic literature (and in the Jewish esoteric literature, as its continuation), already in the early stages of the fashioning of the Jewish canonic text, the ideal of the male who “unifies” with his feminine side. In other words, this final chapter will present the argument that the Rabbinic literature, that we examined in the preceding chapters, is not a separate branch torn from the original trunk of Scripture, it rather is an integral continuation of the theological conception that was fashioned in the Biblical myth itself. We nonetheless should not reach rash conclusions based on this reading, without a comprehensive examination of the different parts of

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the Bible and the various schools that composed it. The understanding that I will present in this chapter relates solely to this opening Biblical narrative, that is a creation of the Priestly school. At this time I cannot argue that the other schools, as well, share this theological gender position; furthermore, I cannot even state that all the other creations of the Priestly school conform to what I find in my close reading of the opening Biblical narrative. This would require a fundamental inquiry that would exceed the clarification I conducted in this concluding chapter of only a single Priestly creation – although, needless to say, this is by no means a marginal work, but a Priestly creation that is set forth as a sort of manifesto at the beginning of the entire Bible, and consequently is of cardinal religious and cultural significance.

The Mythological Background and Gender Aspects A well-known feminist argument, that was cogently presented by Luce Irigaray, states that femininity threatens masculinity because it is amorphous, in terms both of the physical structure of the female sexual organ, and of its psychological and spiritual approach, that is so different from the phallic position (that fundamentally seeks “violent penetration” of the amorphous, in order to impart order and defined form to existence).1 Many early myths clearly and vividly express this idea. A study of the dramatic manner in which a myth is presented is highly instructive of the world of the society that tells it, since it projects the culture’s

1 See Irigaray, This Sex, esp. pp. 28–29. On the possible fright caused by a man’s looking at the vagina, see Freud, “Medusenhaupt,” pp. 130–31. On the common folkloristic motif of the biting vagina (vagina dentata) that deters many men from looking at, touching, or penetrating it, see Walker, Women’s Dictionary, pp. 1034–37; Neumann, Great Mother, pp. 168–69; Thompson, FolkIndex, vol. 3, F547.1.1, p. 164; Thompson, Tales, p. 309 n. 115. See also the comments by Marx, When I Sleep, pp. 322–32, that, inter alia, strengthen the linkage between the female and the chaotic by highlighting the picture of the fetus that is immerged in its mother’s body, without any distinct boundaries (p. 330); and similarly, from the fact that an uncontrollable flow bursts forth from the female sexual organ (menstruation), and that the woman’s hair on her head, in its natural state, is frequently perceived as something that flows and is to be covered because of its being chaotic and amorphous (pp. 328–29). Cf. also below, n. 15.

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narrative onto the tales of the gods.2 Myths are therefore a sort of mirror reflecting the complex relationship of the masculine and the feminine that is at the heart of human culture. We should first note that the process of creation is perceived in many ancient myths as a metaphoric birth.3 These myths reflect the birth process from within the “womb of chaos,” that is frequently presented as primordial matter in a liquid and dark place. Thus, for example, in the opening to the book of Genesis (1:2): “The earth being unformed and void, with darkness over the surface of the deep and the spirit of God sweeping over the water,”4 with the “splitting” or opening of the darkness of the shapeless maternal womb coming in the second stage.5 2 See Geertz, Interpretation of Cultures, pp. 109–18. Geertz generally examines ceremonies and the religious perspective, but this obviously is equally relevant to mythos. 3 See Graves and Patai, Hebrew Myths, p. 24, para. 10. 4 See Walker, Women’s Dictionary, p. 183, the added details on the connections between the elements of water, femininity, and giving birth (and cyclic processes in general). On these symbolic connections, that seem to have already been present in prehistoric societies, see Kuhn, “Nachwort”; Eliade, Patterns, pp. 188–90. It should also be noted that the second version of the Creation, as well, begins with a depiction of the world as a nebulous and unclear place (Gen. 2:6): “But a mist would well up from the ground and water the whole surface of the earth.” In Sumerian the same word (“a”) means both “sperm” and “water”; in Biblical Hebrew makor refers both to water and to the womb; in the Song of Songs (4:12, 15) the bride is compared to a spring; and Proverbs (5:15) compares coupling with one’s mate to drinking from a person’s own source of water, and immediately afterwards compares a person’s offspring to springs bursting forth to the world beyond (on this, and on the Sumerian myth Enki and Ninhursag, in which this symbolism is conspicuous, see Shemesh, “Achsah,” pp. 36–37). Since this symbolism is completely natural, it is not surprising to find it in many cultures around the world. In the Rig Veda, as well, the waters that preceded the world are called “mothers”; see Brown, “Creation Myth,” p. 91 n. 35A. Roheim writes that among the Australian natives “to drink the vagina” was a euphemism for coitus. He also tells of a song from the Ilpirra tribe which encourages a boy during the dancing to take his girl and cohabit with her, by shouting: “Water, drink it!” (see Roheim, Children of the Desert, p. 245). 5 On the vagina and the anus as dark places (“caves”) that have often been associatively connected with creativity and giving birth (e.g., in Freudian theory, which regards the anal stage – occurring at about two years of age, around the time when toilet training begins, that arouses the child’s fascination with the erogenous zone of the anus – as the crucial stage for developing his creative ability), see Kuryluk, Salome, pp. 21–22, 317. Interestingly, Kuryluk also discusses the resemblance between the anal-stage child playing with excrement and the image of God creating the human by molding dust from the earth (p. 21). In the Covenant of the Pieces, as well, the starting point of God’s new covenant with

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The Bible marks the beginning of the material world by the entry of light (Gen. 1:3): “God said, ‘Let there be light’; and there was light.” The Romans, too, patently made the same connection with birth: Juno Lucina6 was not only the creator of the fetus, but also the “mother” who imparted “light” to the newborn’s eyes.7 This primordial “light” has two interrelated aspects: this is the light to which the infant (= Creation) is exposed in its first meeting with the reality in the world; and, if we shift our perspective, it is also a sort of gentle “sword” that splits the “womb of chaos,”8 to give it the familiar order of life.9

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man is “a great darkness” (Gen. 15:12), and it seems that the motif of dismemberment, too, symbolizes a repetition of the initial cleaving of creation. Also, the Exodus from Egypt begins, according to the literal meaning of the text, in the middle of the night (Exod. 12:29ff.); the Kabbalists imaginatively compared this going forth with the departure from the dark womb, since they associatively connected Mitzrayim (= Egypt) with something narrow (tzar), that is, a metaphor for the birth canal. See Abrams, Female Body, p. 92 n. 165. An ancient Gnostic text attributed to Simon Magus (first century CE) already raised quite similar ideas. The text identifies Exodus (i.e., the very act of exit) as the fetus’s way out of the womb, and connects it with another exit through a narrow place: the later crossing of the Red Sea by the Israelites – due to the associative connection between the name “Red Sea” and blood (which is inherent in this process – although it should be noted that the name of this sea in the original Biblical Hebrew is “Yam Suf [commonly translated as Sea of Reeds], which is in no way connected to blood). On this text, see Pagels, Gnostic Gospels, p. 53; and see the intriguing comment by Trompf, Historical Recurrence, p. 134, that the idea of splitting the waters to walk on the “dry land” is a recurring pattern in the Bible. Indeed, this motif, of bursting forth from darkness to light, as in the beginning of Creation, is sensed by the traditional Jew every day (see Marx, When I Sleep, pp. 277–78), which is the apparent reason for the establishment of the night as the beginning of the new day in the Jewish calendar (for several ritual consequences of this conception, see Treivish, Revid ha-Zahav, Genesis, p. 2; and for a similar ancient Celtic notion of time, see O’Neill, Night, vol. 2, p. 831). This is the aspect of the goddess Juno connected to light and birth (the name Lucina is understood as having been connected in ancient Rome to the light [lux], but this name was originally derived from lucus, forest). Walker, Woman’s Dictionary, pp. 183–84. Werblowsky and Iwersen, “Light and Darkness,” p. 5451, state that “many cosmologies begin with accounts of the creation with the emergence of light (or the sun or an equivalent light principle) out of a primeval darkness.” Cf. Abrams, Female Body, pp. 102–5. In a manner similar to the picture painted here, of the opening of an epoch by the departure from the “womb,” it has already been argued that the common motif of the expulsion from the Garden of Eden, that appears in the continuation of the founding narratives in the Bible, could represent the expulsion

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This picture, of the world’s “birth from the womb,” makes it difficult to identify the Creation as the product of some “masculine” divine entity from the absolute void.10 This is especially so since this cyclicity, between suffering (darkness) and birth-creation (light), that is so deeply imprinted in the human psychological reality, is close to the female periodic nature, and not to male linearity. The impression gained from many myths is that the primal female pictures of the cosmic birth are intermingled with blatantly phallic ones. The Gnostic sources explicitly claim the Bible’s declaration of monotheism was meant to quash the existence of the primal goddess who gave birth to all the gods.11 Be that as it may, the “masculine” struggle against the primordial, early, “feminine” matter is unquestionably reflected in numerous myths. This struggle reflects the tension of the creation of (masculine) culture within and in relation to (feminine) Nature.12 Thus, for instance, in the early Babylonian myth Enuma Elish, before there was a world, the universe was filled by only two creatures: Tiamat, the primordial sea whose waters are salty, and her mate Apsu, the fresh water, and their waters were mixed together.13 After much has taken place, one of the young gods, Marduk, kills Tiamat, smashes her skull, and bisects her body. From these two parts he creates the world known to us: from her upper part he created heaven, and on her lower part he established the earth (according to this myth, the sweet waters,

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from this primal situation in the mother’s womb. See Fromm, You Shall Be as Gods, p. 71. (Here, too, we see that Simon Magus already identified the way out of the womb as the way out of Eden. See Pagels, Gnostic Gospels, pp. 52–53.) For an analysis of Hindu myths with a similar motif of transferring the amorphous to the solid, see Eliade, Eternal Return, pp. 18–20. This is also reminiscent of the opposite of what we would expect, that appears in the continuation of the founding narratives in the Bible (which, when we think about it, is somewhat surprising) of the male figure (Adam) who gives birth: the woman emerges from his rib. This opposite is deserving of a discussion of its own. See Walker, Woman’s Dictionary, p. 184; and see at length: Pagels, Gnostic Gospels, pp. 57–59. On the familiar identification of the feminine as nature and the masculine as culture, see Ortner, “Is Female”; Sydie, Natural Women. To this we can add the fact that in the ancient Greek world the positive virtues were considered to be masculine, while the woman was deemed to be a creature incapable of controlling herself. See Foucault, History of Sexuality, vol. 2, pp. 84–85; and see pp. 145–46, his discussion of Law, which, too, was thought to be masculine, and one of its functions was to deter and restrict the “uncontrolled woman.” See Heidel, Babylonian Genesis, p. 3.

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which are the male side of this primordial couple, become the pool of waters under the earth).14 From then on Marduk ruled the world that he had created from the body of Tiamat. It is striking in this myth that Tiamat – which is the deep (tehom) in its Biblical manifestation – is, first, a female creature; and second, one that represents chaos. She is the deep, the Biblical “unformed and void.” In order to create the world, to create culture, masculinity is tasked with splitting the amorphous femininity, fashioning it, and giving it shape. This fear of the amorphous female body is pronounced also in the continuation of the Babylonian myth, as Marduk builds the entire world from Tiamat’s corpse, when he realizes he must take care of the female body’s unbridled secretions. Following this, the myth states that after he placed the upper part of her body in the heavens, he “pulled down the bar and posted guards. He bade them to allow not her waters to escape.”15 14 Additionally, the text relates that Apsu fertilized everything in the world, while Tiamat gave birth to everything that was created. See Shifrah-Klein, Distant Days, p. 666, n. to Tablet V, l. 62. The editors also take note of the fact (which is significant for our discussion) that in this Babylonian text Tiamat is the “Mother,” as it uses a word (“mummu”) that means both womb and creator (p. 663, n. to l. 4). 15 Enuma Elish, Tablet IV, ll. 139–140 (Speiser, “Creation Epic,” p. 67); ShifrahKlein, Distant Days, p. 32 n. 28. The Bible, too, refers to such a closure; see Prov. 8:28–29. See also Rachman, Narrative, pp. 47–48. This ancient notion might be the source of the term “Angel of the Sea” in the Rabbinic aggadot whose initial task was to ensure that the sea-monster would not come to life from anew and endanger the world; cf. Gaster, Myth, p. 790, sect. 299. On involuntary bodily secretions as an element in the distancing of women from their husbands (and from society as a whole) during their menstrual impurity, see Eilberg-Schwartz, Savage, pp. 186ff.; on the demonic aspect accompanying the woman’s bodily secretions in the traditional conception, see Ahituv, “Demonic Traits,” pp. 152–57, and the list of sources from societies around the world collected by Stahl, Family, p. 223 nn. 10, 11. See, e.g., Koidonover, Kav ha-Yashar, chap. 31, p. 121 (in ed. Lvov 1851, Part 1, fol. 31a), who writes that menstrual blood is “the filth of the Sitra Ahra [lit., the Other Side: the personification of evil]. It is something substantive that adheres to a person’s body, from which one can be cleansed and voided only by tribulations.” For an additional anthropological discussion of gynophobia, see Beers, Women and Sacrifice, pp. 75–80. From this aspect, nothing has changed during the thousands of years of human culture, since such a mindset is evident in the modern world, as well. The feminist critique repeatedly notes that advertisements frequently portray the woman as being in desperate need of hygienic and cosmetic products to fix her “leaking” and “spoiled” body.

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The fashioning act by Marduk in this myth, as well, is obviously a symbolic act of (sexual) penetration, since Tiamat opened her mouth to swallow him, and he shoots an arrow at her (into her mouth!) to kill her.16 Additionally, Tiamat’s attributes are typically feminine: she acts hysterically, screams, and utters incantations in her war with Marduk.17 The Babylonian assumption that the “dissection” of the female body by men enables creativity (by giving form to the world of the “deep”) did not end with Marduk’s one-time act of bravery, rather, this was thought to be a recurring act. The ancient Babylonian culture devoted every new year to the renewed war of Marduk against Tiamat.18 16 Enuma Elish, Tablet IV, ll. 97–101 (Speiser, “Creation Epic,” p. 67). Incidentally, this sexual nuance is quite blatant in the translation of Tablet IV, l. 139 by Langdon, Babylonian Epic, p. 147: “He slid the bolt and caused watchmen to be stationed.” 17 Enuma Elish, Tablet IV, ll. 87–94 (Speiser, “Creation Epic,” p. 67). Cf. Valler, Women and Womenhood, p. 99: the fathers in the Babylonian Talmud do not engage in exceptional actions, unlike the mothers, who are depicted as “active to the point of being hysterical.” On women and hysteria, see the sources listed above, chap. 3, n. 22. An extensive literature has been written on women as sorcerers; see, e.g., Shahar, Fourth Estate, pp. 268–80. Cf. what was written by R. Simeon ben Zemah Duran: “Sorcery is more present among women than among men, because the former are weak, they have no strength to fight, and they desire to win by means of sorcery” (Magen Avot on M Avot 2:8). 18 Shifrah-Klein, Distant Days, p. 8. See also Eliade, Eternal Return, pp. 51–92, and esp. 56; for the same recreation rituals in the new year festival in Sumer, the a-ki-til (= “power making the world live again”), see Eliade, History, vol. 1, pp. 60–61. (On the broader meaning of Eliade’s presentation of this phenomenon in the history of religions, see Sharpe, Comparative Religion, pp. 215–17.) We should add in this context that one of the main themes of the set of blessings that the halakhah mandates to be recited every morning is the creation of the world from anew and reassurance of its stability (see Marx, When I Sleep, p. 205). This Jewish ritual clearly demonstrates the deep meaning of this notion, and the ancients’ lack of security living on the “dry land Earth.” In their geographical conception, the earth is a thin cover over the underworld waters, that at any moment can burst forth and destroy the entire world (cf. Eliade, Sacred and the Profane, pp. 147–48). This would explain why people in different cultures around the world felt that the divine act of creation was not a onetime event which firmly established the existence of the world for all eternity, but was rather a very fragile creation that could be shattered at any time, with the world returning to its original chaotic state. As an example of this anxiety: the constant fear by the ancient Egyptians of a sudden flooding by the Nile that would return the entire world to the primordial chaos; see Eliade, Schöpfungsmythen, pp. 40–41. The frequency of the idea that “water is the abode of demons” (see Ginzberg, Legends, vol. 5, p. 87 n. 40) is therefore not surprising. This anxiety is reflected in the Bible in the Flood story (Gen. 7:10–24), and in many other cultures around the world that possessed some sort of deluge

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The Babylonian creation myth highlights creativity and the masculine ability to create. One passage in the Enuma Elish illustrates the centrality of the linkage between the god Marduk’s creative ability and his being the king of the gods. In this passage, before the gods crowned him they tested his creative power and demanded that he destroy an entire celestial entity by the power of his speech, and recreate it in the same manner. Only after he succeeded in this task did they all proclaim: “Marduk is the king!”19 For Erich Fromm, this proves that masculinity is greatly bothered by the fact that nature imparted women with the ability to give birth, which does not exist in nature for men: Women have the gift of natural creation, they can bear children. Men are sterile in this respect. (That the male sperm is as indispensable for the formation of the child as the female egg is true enough, but this knowledge is rather on the level of a scientific statement than on that of an obvious recognizable fact like pregnancy or childbirth. Moreover, the father’s part in the creation of the child is terminated with the act of impregnation when the mother’s role in bearing the child, then giving birth to it and nursing it begins.) […] In order to defeat the mother, the male must prove that he is not inferior, that he has the gift to produce. Since he cannot produce with a womb, he must produce in another fashion; he produces with his mouth, his word, his thought. This, then, is the meaning of the test: Marduk can defeat Tiamat only if he can prove that he can also create even though in a different fashion. The test shows us the deep malefemale antagonism, which is the basis of the fight between Tiamat and Marduk and the essential point of contention in this fight between the two sexes. With Marduk’s victory male supremacy is established, the natural productiveness of the woman is devaluated, and the male begins his dominion based on his ability to produce by the power of thought, a form of production which underlies the development of human civilization.20

narrative (see Gaster, Myth, pp. 82–128). This conception, that was one of the main causes of anxiety in the ancient world, can also explain the fact that “[f]or the Romans, as for the rural societies in general, the ideal norm was manifested in the regularity of the annual cycle, in the orderly succession of the seasons. Every radical innovation constituted an attack on the norm; in the last analysis, it involved the danger of return to the chaos [on the same tendency in ancient Egypt, see Eliade, History, vol. 1, p. 86]. In the same way, every anomaly – prodigies, unusual phenomena (birth of monsters, rains of stones, etc.) – denotes a crisis in the relations between gods and men. Prodigies proclaimed the gods’ discontent or even anger. Aberrant phenomena were equivalent to enigmatic manifestations of the gods; from a certain point of view, they consisted ‘negative theophanies’” (Eliade, History, vol. 2, pp. 113–14). 19 See Shifrah-Klein, Distant Days, p. 28; Speiser, “Creation Epic,” p. 66. 20 Fromm, Forgotten Language, pp. 233–34; see also Graves and Patai, Hebrew Myths, pp. 24–25, paras. 10–16.

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This is reminiscent of the Biblical depiction (albeit in a greatly refined manner), that most of God’s acts of creation were performed by speech.21 This is also pronounced, in like manner, in ancient Egyptian myth. The ancient Egyptian assumed that the world was a shallow platter. The primeval waters, that were identified with the god Nun, were under the land of Egypt. “Nun” is also the name of the ocean surrounding the world, and of the waters of chaos from which the sun is born each day. All the gods were born from these primeval waters. Above the earth is the sky, which resembles an inverted saucer, and is called Nut, where the border of the universe is located. They also believed that the river arose every day from these primeval waters. According to the ancient Egyptian narrative, the first place of creation was a muddy mound, on which the sun-god Atum (meaning both “all” and “nothing”) was created. The creation story of the rest of the gods begins with Atum. According to this narrative, first there were the gods who preceded creation: water (= Nun) and heaven (= Nut), who represent the primordial chaos that came before the creation. In the theology of Heliopolis, that came from the ancient Egyptian mythology, the sun-god Atum created himself on a mound of earth. Since the male Atum could not reproduce without a female creature, the myth tells of a sort of “big bang” of sexual penetration into the chaos by an act of masturbation (or sneezing) by Atum, who begat Shu (the air-god) and Tefnut (the goddess of moisture), who in turn begat Geb (the god of the earth) and Nut (the sky-god). From the coupling of Geb and Nut four new gods were born: Osiris and his mate Isis, as well as Set and his mate Nephthys. According to the Egyptian myth, this last “generation” of gods is responsible for the first contact between the world of the gods and the earthly world.22 One point in our discussion should be clarified: when we say that, in this mythology, Atum begat the gods in a sort of “big bang,” this does not mean that the eight couples of gods did not exist at all before that. Indeed, according to this myth they already existed in the chaos before Atum’s act of masturbation. The “big bang,” however, changed 21 See the extensive discussion, below. 22 See Frankfort, Before Philosophy, pp. 62–63; Budge, Ancient Egypt, pp. 10–11. It is noteworthy that the Kabbalistic teachings, too, describe the autoerotic aspect of God’s delights (sha’shua) in the Creation. See Liebes, “Zohar and Eros,” p. 81; Wolfson, Circle in the Square, pp. 69–72; Wolfson, “Gender and Heresy,” pp. 252–53 n. 107.

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matters, in the sense that they now could exist within the universal order.23 The Greek creation myth, as portrayed by Hesiod, relates, in short, that the primordial element was Chaos (some matter or creature of unclear nature, Tartarus), from which were born Gaea, the goddess of the earth (= the feminine element), and Eros, who represents love and will, and was deemed in ancient Greece to be a masculine element. Chaos later gave birth to darkness (the masculine element) and night (the feminine element), and the act of love between them led to the night giving birth to light (a masculine element) and the day (a feminine element). Gaea, the earth, gave birth to Uranus, the heavens (that in this mythology is masculine). Gaea later mated with her son Uranus. and was greatly offended when he showed no joy at their offspring24 borne him by Gaea. Uranus thrust these offspring back into the bosom of Gaea-the earth. In response, Gaea encouraged her son Cronus, one of the Titans, to castrate his father, which he did with the cruel stroke of a scythe.25 Thanks to this act, Cronus gained mastery over the earth. But then he was told that he would suffer the same fate as his father: one of his sons would dispossess him of his kingship. Cronus therefore made haste to swallow all his sons, but one was saved (since Gaea concealed him in a cave in Crete): Zeus, the god of lightning, who overpowered his father and ruled the world after him.26 The Greek and Babylonian myths closely resemble each other, since in both the main character at the center of the plot is the great mother (Tiamat, Gaea, or similarly, Anat, Baal’s mate in the Ugaritic myth),27 and in each instance power is transferred, after a bloody 23 Frankfort, Before Philosophy, pp. 62–63. On Nekhbet, “the white-crowned great goddess of Upper Egypt, who is worshiped as a ‘form of the primeval abyss which brought forth the light,’” see Neumann, Great Mother, p. 219. For a further discussion of the different theological systems that developed in ancient Egypt, see Eliade, History, vol. 1, pp. 87–90; Hasenfratz, “Patterns.” 24 The Titans, Cyclops, and Hecatoncheires. 25 Aphrodite was born from the foam created when this sexual organ fell into the sea. 26 See Amit, Classical Greece, p. 220. Cf. Graves and Patai, Hebrew Myths, p. 24, para. 10. Note should be taken here of the affinity between the Greek word for world:  (cosmos) and the meanings relating to imposing order, organization. See Liddel and Scott’s Lexicon, p. 389. 27 For a comprehensive survey of the attitude to goddesses from prehistory to the medieval periods, see James, Mother-Goddess. On the “Great Mother” as a womb about whose mysteries we, humans, can know nothing, apart from the

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struggle, to a male god who rules the world. In the Egyptian myth, as well, a male figure must violently blaze a path within chaos in order to create primal order from within it. Following the line of thinking we presented in the beginning of the chapter, we may state that all of these myths felt that the masculine element had to overcome feminine amorphousness in order to establish the elements of language and culture;28 from another aspect, employing the terminology coined by the French psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan, these different descriptions reflect the great drama experienced by the child’s psyche in the phase in which the “real” becomes the “symbolic,” that is, the passage from the experience of nature to that of culture, which occurs concurrently with the child’s entry to language.29

fact that we came into this world from it, and to it we will return in the end, see Campbell, Masks of God, vol. 1, pp. 61–67. Additionally, it is noteworthy that one of the names that the Rabbinic tradition gives to the womb is “kever” (= grave). See, e.g., M. Oholot 7:4 (and see Hazani, “Tikkun,” pp. 119–20 n. 100). Turner cited an African informant who interpreted a tribal ritual by explaining that the pits in the land symbolize for the tribe’s members both graves and the vagina, namely, the procreative force; see Turner, Ritual Process, p. 28. For a survey of similar rituals, see Eliade, Rites and Symbols, pp. 93–104; and on a similar perception in the ancient Aegean world, of the womb as the place where the dead is prepared to be born in the world after life, see Goodison, Moving Heaven, pp. 305–9. 28 For a similar myth appearing in Jewish legend, that tells of the fear lest the deep envelops the entire world, against which the Tetragrammaton is to be used to save the world from chaotic flooding, see Heinemann, Aggadah, pp. 17–26 and the notes, pp. 212–13; Sperber, “Sealing the Abysses”; Pedaya, Name and Sanctuary, pp. 172–73. For additional sources on the fear of an outburst of chaos, see Stein, “Believing Is Seeing,” p. 14 n. 18. Generally speaking, we should recall Gaster’s statement that this ancient picture of the primordial waters over which the world was created is in no wise unique to the early Semitic myths; to the contrary, it is widespread, and is to be found in most world cultures, even those that undoubtedly had no cultural connection with the Semitic world. Gaster provides a quite lengthy list of the cultures from whose myths he culled evidence in proof of his determination (both sources close to the Bible and those from very distant cultures), and I will mention only a few: the Sumerian, Hindu, and Finnish cultures; many Indian cultures in the Americas; the Yoruba tribe in Sudan; the Gabon tribe in the Congo. See the extensive discussion: Gaster, Myth, pp. 3–4 and nn. on pp. 323–24. 29 The Slovenian researcher of culture Slavoj Zizek recently finely showed the degree of entrenchment in modern popular culture of this way of thinking (that entails deep apprehension of the amorphous Chaos), which is a sort of contemporary Western myth. See Zizek, Looking Awry, esp. pp. 12–16.

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In any event, the conquest of the feminine by the masculine is, as we shall see below, a reflection of the chauvinistic archetype that perceives sexual coupling with the female as an act of conquest.30

In the Beginning God Created Now we can return from our journey through the mythological world beyond the confines of the Bible, in order to reexamine the use made of these materials by the Biblical narrative. The book of Genesis presents two parallel Creation narratives, and it would be interesting from the gender perspective of our study to examine these two narratives by comparing them to the early myths mentioned above. Now, however, in the context of this book, we will confine ourselves to the first Creation narrative.31 The well-known opening of the book of Genesis states:

30 Eliade, Eternal Return, pp. 10–11, notes that many cultures perceived every conquest of new territory as a repetition of the act of Creation, that is, the forces of order asserting control over chaos; and, we must add, the self-understood significance of this action is the imposition of masculine order on feminine chaos (on woman as a demon, see the sources cited in Kosman, Men’s World, pp. 67–71 and pp. 68–69 n. 2). See also n. 122, below. As for the requirement that the god be fruitful, possess a phallus, and not be castrated – and is then connected to immortality, see the discussion by Eliade, Patterns, pp. 75–77; 96–97; see also pp. 89–90 for parallels between the Marduk-Tiamat myth and other myths. Hints of such a conception in Judaism appear in the Kabbalistic literature. Thus, e.g., the Zohar states of Christianity: “Another god is castrated, he has no desire, and he bears no fruits” (Zohar 2:103a). Abrams assumes that in this passage in the Zohar, “Jesus is portrayed as the divine image of Christianity who does not function, that is, in contrast to the fruitful God of Israel, Jesus is impotent” (Abrams, “Chapters,” p. 284; see also his list of sources relevant to our discussion, n. 59). It therefore should not be surprising that, according to the Kabbalistic depiction: “the male organ is described [i.e, in Idra Zuta] […] as the center within which, by means of a drop of semen, are the powers of all the supernal organs” (see Liebes, “Messiah,” p. 192). 31 That apparently is not the earlier of the two, and which Bible scholars attribute to the Priestly stratum (see Graves and Patai, Hebrew Myths, pp. 22–24, paras. 5, 7–9; see also Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, p. 125 and n. 4, on what is unique in the attribution of dynamic activity to God in this passage). This, however, is not our primary concern here, but the literary fashioning and its gender and theological aspects. On the dating of this stratum of the Priestly school, see the cogent summation of the research in Rofe, Introduction, pp. 58–70, 70 n. 17.

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In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth – the earth being unformed and void, with darkness over the surface of the deep and the spirit of God sweeping over the water – God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and God separated the light from the darkness. (Gen. 1:1–4)

In this narrative the Hebrew tehom (deep) is the transformation of the Babylonian Tiamat.32 Here, however, the Biblical adaptation of the early Mesopotamian narrative is very mild in terms of gender: the early deep is not personified here as a female goddess; and although the Hebrew God is undoubtedly portrayed here as possessing masculine attributes, He is no longer directly depicted as a violent male god who tears apart the primordial female with his arrows. The refinement of the Biblical narrative is also expressed in the gentle way in which the spirit of God hovers over the waters of the deep,33 and the entire Creation is performed with a divine oral utter32 This supposition was most likely first raised by Gunkel, Schöpfung; see Ringgren, Israelite Religion, p. 107 and n. 11. It is noteworthy that even in its Hebrew form this noun retained its feminine form, and that in the Bible the deep is portrayed as “rovetzet” (= crouching), a verb reserved solely for a beast (see Gen. 45:25; Deut. 33:13). 33 A depiction that can have a sexual association, and therefore accords with my argument (see below) concerning the element of “holy coupling” in our Biblical story. Additionally, we could wonder about the element of hovering in the Biblical depiction, since in many cultures the symbol of flight signifies an upward, elevating movement and departure from the earthly world (see Eliade, Patterns, pp. 99–111); and sometimes it relates to the spirit’s severe difficulties in adjusting to the earthly world (see Chevalier and Gheerbrant, Dictionary, pp. 393–94). Here, however, in contrast to what we might expect, the spirit descends and hovers (perhaps, even bends) over the materiality of the deep. It is noteworthy that the Rabbinic literature perceived this spirit as an actual wind, unlike the Christian literature, that views it as the “Holy Spirit” (both of which are “ruah” in Hebrew). See Ginzberg, Legends, vol. 5, p. 7 n. 15; Buber emphasizes the sophisticated possibility of including both the physical and the spiritual parts in the word “ruah,” and to allude to their being one unity. See Buber, “Man of Today,” pp. 52–53. See in relation to this Simon, “Portion of Bereshit,” p. 20. In contrast to this monist tendency, which perceives the spirit operating in and through matter, an extreme dualistic orientation found its way into a European folklore legend that, following this Biblical depiction, has God hovering over the waters against the figure of Satan. See Dähnhardt, Natursagen, vol. 1, p. 2; Thompson, Folk-Index, A810.1, p. 161. Some support for my approach seems to be provided by the versions of the Targumim that read the second part of Gen. 1:2 as follows: “and a loving-compassionate spirit [ruah rahmin] blew from God”; thus in the Palestinian Targum (Targum Yerushalmi), Neofiti I published by Diez-Macho, and in PseudoJonathan. See Goshen-Gottstein, Fragments, vol. 1, p. 39. Komlos, Bible in

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ance.34 Emanuely especially emphasized the profoundly revolutionary element formulated in this beginning of the Creation narrative, on the background of the violence characteristic of the early myths: Specifically this verse [= the first verse: “In the beginning …”], that seems superfluous […] is extremely revolutionary. It contains a silent cry: “In the beginning” [= God] did not struggle, did not break bones! “In the beginning” [= God] created! The Creation is the beginning of all.35

In my understanding, the Biblical upheaval is to be perceived in an even more radical manner, if we examine the nature of the divine utterance in the Biblical narrative that replaces Marduk’s violent action, that tears asunder the primordial female body. This, in turn, will lead us to a completely new comprehension of the essence of the masculine-feminine relationship and the ensuing creative and procreative force. In order to fully appraise the profundity of the Biblical revolution, we must focus on the essence of the divine utterance “yehi” (yhy ). I propose reading this, not as the master’s order to faceless objects that obey him as robots, lacking any personality of their own, but as an appeal of a dialogic nature. To further clarify my aim, I will cite the distinction drawn by the folklore researcher Dov Noy, whose understanding of the alienated nature of this divine utterance explained another point that arises from a comparison of the Biblical narrative with other myths: The place of the fundamentally magical act that is characteristic of the ancient methods of describing the Creation is taken in the monotheistic narratives by the statement (yehi), the utterance, or the order, given by the Creator to His agent, that obliges the latter to perform certain creation tasks.36 Light, p. 147, noted that the verb [ ’’xr reappears in the Bible in Deut. 32:11: “Like an eagle who rouses his nestlings, gliding down [yerahef ] to his young, so did He spread His wings and take him, bear him along on His pinions” – and therefore we may reasonably state that Gen. 1:2 alludes to God’s compassion. It should be noted that the verb , ’’xr in Aramaic means “to love,” in addition to “be compassionate.” See Muffs, Love & Joy, p. 132 n. 10, p. 193 n. 64. 34 With the exception of the later creation of man. It is noteworthy that an Egyptian text that survived in a damaged stele from Memphis (that is among the holdings of the British Museum), too, presents the creative force as “’Ptah, the Great One, he is the heart and the tongue,” that gave birth to Atum. See Frankfort, Before Philosophy, p. 64–67. Furthermore, afterwards, after the aggressive phase of the killing of Tiamat, it seems that Marduk, too, created the world with his speaking. See Shifrah-Klein, Distant Days, p. 665, n. to Tablet IV, ll. 19–26. 35 Emanuely, Genesis, p. 38 (in the name of Benjamin Uffenheimer). For my argument concerning the nature of this “creation” as a dialogic act, see below. 36 Noy, Legends, p. 32.

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Noy takes a clear stance regarding the nature of the utterance “yehi,” namely, an alienated command placed on the shoulders of God’s “agent,” who is obligated to fulfill His mandate. In opposition to this proposal, I suggest viewing the divine utterance as a soft-spoken appeal to the deep, to bring forth the light from within it; and even if the reader insists on seeing this appeal as a command, I nevertheless suggest perceiving it as an appeal of a tender nature, a dialogic appeal that comes from God to some independent entity. Additionally, an examination of the occurrences of the word “yehi” in Scripture shows that it does not appear as an imperative, but as a request (as in Jud. 6:39: “Then Gideon said to God: ‘Do not be angry with me if I speak just once more. Let me make just one more test with the fleece: let [yehi] the fleece alone be dry”); as the expression of a wish (as in Ps. 33:22: “May [yehi] we enjoy, O Lord, Your faithful care, as we have put our hope in you”); or as the determination of what will occur in the future, in neutral language (such as Exod. 7:9: “When Pharaoh speaks to you and says, ‘Produce your marvel,’ you shall say to Aaron, ‘Take your rod and cast it down before Pharaoh.’ It shall turn into [yehi] a serpent”). This reading also highlights the Bible’s transformation of the violent act of the Mesopotamian bisection of the female-Tiamat, that it turns into speaking to the deep as a subjective entity. I find this to be a powerful and breathtaking depiction: chaos loses its rough edges, is amenable to God’s appeal, and “gives its answer” to this appeal by the feminine experience of the deep giving birth to the order of the world, first of which is the light. This corresponds well with what Cassuto found to be generally characteristic of the manner in which this passage was reworked in relation to the early mythos of antiquity: The words [of this section] were spoken calmly, and contain neither controversy nor dispute: its opposition is seemingly voiced incidentally, within the moderate and tranquil statements of the text, that negates the contrary views with silence or with subtle hints.37

37 Cassuto, “Detailed Contents,” col. 323. This is the place to mention Cassuto’s reconstruction of the ancient epic of the rebellious sea, that he maintains was known in Israel, and to which the Bible responds in different places. Cassuto used various references in the Bible, the mythologies of the peoples neighboring Israel, and post-Biblical traditions that preserved remnants of an early epic in order to reconstruct it. According to this epic, the waters and the rivers rebelled against God at the beginning of Creation (along with their helpers the

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Moshe Weinfeld’s explanations of the Creation narrative will aid us in focusing more clearly on the nature of the dialogic reading I propose. Weinfeld argues that the Biblical depiction of Creation differs from that of the pagan world in two main features: in the pagan world, (1) the gods are born and beget; and (2) they possess a psychological structure similar to that of humans: they love, hate, and struggle with each other. Weinfeld continues: Such a conception is inconceivable in the Israelite faith. The Israelite faith is distinguished from the pagan not only quantitatively: one god in Israel, instead of the many of the other peoples. The main difference is one of quality: God is beyond the laws of the material world. He created these laws, and He therefore is not subservient to them. The fact that the God of Israel is the one and only divinity, with no goddess by His side, bars from this faith the idea of the coupling of the male element with the female, and thereby removed from the divine cosmos the natural possibility of coming into existence and multiplying. Since

Leviathan, the Elusive Serpent, the Twisting Serpent, and the sea monster). They set out to conquer the world and subjugate it. Then God launched a counterattack. He struck the waves, thundered against them, split the sea, and set its boundary. After they finally submitted, He trampled on them and crushed them – and then ruled the entire world. This violent, brutal myth was toned down in the myth of the birth of the sea that appears in the book of Job, in which God cares for the sea as for an infant, with a sudden affinity between Him and the sea. And mainly, God does not trample the sea underfoot, but controls it solely by speaking (see Mazor, “Hovering,” pp. 15–16). To this we must obviously connect the brutal and violent background of the sundering of Tiamat in the ancient Babylonian myth and the fact that in many early myths the existing world was created from the body of a primordial giant whom the god killed and cut up, before creating the world from its parts (for a discussion of many myths of this type throughout the world, see Eliade, Eternal Return, pp. 20–21; Hocart, Kingship, pp. 106–7. On this element as common to all the Indo-European myths, see Lincoln, “Indo-European Myth.” Incidentally, this mythic element might have entered Judaism in a later period in the figure of Adam Kadmon, who was regarded by the sixteenth-century Lurianic Kabbalah as a primal entity from which the rest of the world was then created. If there is any basis to this conjecture, then here, as well, we see how the Jewish myth refines elements that it imports.) It is my view, that I have set forth in this discussion, that the version appearing in the beginning of the book of Genesis is even milder than that in Job. The Genesis version is an additional developmental stage in the refining of the myth, but with the additional dialogic element of God speaking to the deep. It should be stressed that I am not raising a historical argument here, since the time of the composition of Job is unclear, and it is difficult to place these sources in definite historical order. My argument is therefore solely literarycontentual and sorts these sources into three phases that express different types of relationship between God and the deep.

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God is one and has no equal, there is no possibility of tension between Him and any fellow.38

In my reading, the negation of the divine coupling with the female goddess does not mean that Scripture presents a “bachelor” masculine God (or perhaps, a God lacking a specific gender), rather, the “coupling” presented in the Creation narrative has been refined, and is set forth as a spiritual act. This sense is familiar to us from the ideas that became current in much later periods, in the Kabbalah, Hasidism, and the teachings of Martin Buber: God (the male element) directs a dialogic appeal to the existing matter (the female element), and from within this refined relationship between the male and the female, which moderns would, very cautiously, call “love,” the created primordial matter is “born” from within the “womb.”

38 Weinfeld, Genesis, p. 14. This Biblical conception might possibly also refine the coarse myth of God and His wife that was current in early Israel. On the findings that demonstrate the presence of such a rite of God and His consort in early Israel, see Quispel, “Sophia,” p. 416. In this context, it should be noted that what is written by Liebes, “De Natura Dei,” p. 287, and the sources that he references give the impression that God is perceived in the Jewish sources as a “bachelor” (as Liebes calls Him) who desires a spiritual “match,” and that He is lonely when this possibility is taken from Him. Liebes’s words, if considered from the perspective of our discussion, assume a deep significance that is consistent with the argument that I construct here. On coupling in the spiritual sense in the ancient Hindu myth in the Rig Veda, see Brown, “Creation Myth,” p. 92, and esp. n. 35A. I must stress that I do not argue for any identification of the Biblical conception and that of the Rig Veda, since I do not think that the latter contains a dialogic element; this is worthy of a separate discussion, which would exceed the purview of the current work. In support of my argument on the presence of the “holy coupling” element in the Biblical text, it should be added that the element of the waters in the deep, that in various world cultures frequently symbolizes a threatening force, in other instances represents maternal gentleness and love. On the sources presenting the symbol of water in this manner, see Walker, Woman’s Dictionary, p. 1066. See also below, n. 158. The Jungian analytical school devoted much attention to these two possibilities of the involvement of the mother figure in the life of the infant (see Neumann, Great Mother, pp. 170–73; Campbell, Masks of God, pp. 67–78), with parallel discussions, on the same basis, in the Freudian school, especially in the approach of Melanie Klein, that focuses on the disparity between the “good breast” and the “bad breast” (see Hinshelwood, Kleinian Thought, p. 238). These two possibilities, that are inherent, side by side, in the human “coupling” process of the male and the female in a later phase in the life of the adult, will be discussed below.

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Creation Ex Nihilo or Ex Materia? In order, however, to defend my radical reading, we must more forcefully clarify the interpretive principles on which it is based. Admittedly, the overwhelming majority of medieval Jewish Biblical commentators refrained from accepting the simple meaning of this narrative, and rejected the primary meaning that arises: that God actually said something. Such an understanding seemed to them to be a crude anthropomorphism.39 Thus, for instance, Nahmanides, in his commentary on the Torah (to Gen. 1:3), equates the wordings of “saying” and “thought” in the divine context, and asserts that they refer to God’s will. According to this traditional understanding, this is not an utterance or call directed to someone outside God, but rather a metaphoric depiction of the divine will. My proposal, however, views this literally, as a call, with the usual meaning of the Bible’s use here of the verb “[He] said,” with God’s call directed to the deep.40 This is also how I suggest understanding the following events mentioned in the first Creation narrative. As an example, v. 10 relates: “God called the dry land Earth, and the gathering of waters He called Seas,” which is followed, in v. 11, with: “And God said.” The intent is therefore that this is a gentle appeal, a sort of utterance, to the previously mentioned dry land-Earth: “Let the earth sprout vegetation: 39 See Kasher, Peshuto, vol. 1, pp. 18–19. Beyond the fact that the Jewish commentators’ presenting the word of God as thought is patently remote from the simple meaning of the text, it should be obvious that according to the line of thought that I present here, also in purely theological terms, statement (with a dialogic element) is preferable to the thought of God (with its overbearing and monologic element). Incidentally, explicit praise for the anthropomorphic position, that is not troubled by material portrayals of God, is offered by Uffenheimer, “Belief in Yihud,” p. 214, who explains that the crux of the Buberian argument against Spinoza’s conception is that for Buber, Judaism believes that God wishes to be perceived in the spirit of man in images, and has no wish to be an abstract and distant deity. 40 Statement in the sense of, or in reference to, thought is indeed to be found in the Bible (such as (Gen. 44:28): “But one is gone from me, and I said: Alas, he was torn by a beast,” or (Exod. 2:15): “Do you mean [omer, literally, do you say] to kill me as you killed the Egyptian?”), but this is not the usual and accepted meaning. The Bible also contains (albeit rarely) a “saying” that means reaching a conclusion, such as (Jud. 6:29): “Upon inquiry and investigation, they said [vayomru]: ‘Gideon son of Joash did this thing’”; and (Jer. 16:19): “To You nations shall come from the ends of the earth and say [ve-yomru]: Our fathers inherited utter delusions.”

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seed-bearing plants, fruit trees of every kind on earth that bear fruit with the seed in it.” There is no reason to object to this reading if we see that God later explicitly addresses the abstract entity of the seventh day, which He blesses and sanctifies (Gen. 2:3). My reading, therefore, is based on the notion that all the things that God created in the first six days were not created ex nihilo, but ex materia. That is, God always addresses something already existing, so that it will bring forth from within it something already potentially in existence in His “womb.” It is noteworthy that the Bible does not speak of a totally ex nihilo creation, not even at the beginning of the Creation process. The first verses tell us that the earth was unformed and void, that is, it existed in a chaotic state, and that darkness was over the surface of the deep41 – and we are told that the spirit of God hovered over this deep. Thus, we learn that God addresses that deep with the words “Let there be light,” so that the deep will bring forth that latent light.42 After this, v. 6 says: 41 The deep is the primordial water (see Cohen, Genesis, pp. 17–18). This explanation of the word tehom is also accepted by most of the traditional commentators (see Kasher, Peshuto, vol. 1, pp. xv-xvi), even though they do not accept what is indicated by the simple meaning of the Biblical text, that this water existed before the start of the Creation process. (Regarding the term tohu vavohu and its relationship to tehom, see the list of scholars who examined this question, Zipor, Septuagint, p. 57, at the end of his discussion.) Wellhausen, Prolegomena, pp. 297–98, maintains that we should understand from the Biblical text’s description that it was God who created the unformed by means of the hovering spirit, to which the creative force was transferred. Wellhausen reads Gen. 1:1 “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth” as referring to the primordial heaven and earth – that were still in a chaotic condition; the text therefore states immediately afterwards: “the earth [according to his reading, also the above-mentioned heaven] being unformed and void” – from which the rest of Creation, in all its details, was born. Gunkel, Genesis, pp. 103–4, however, is totally opposed to this reading, and argues that this is a clear portrayal of Creation ex materia, and that the previous use of the verb Xrb did not have any ab initio sense. An elementary argument brought by Levenson, Creation, p. 121, against the ex nihilo assumption of the depiction at the beginning of Genesis maintains that if this were the case, the Biblical authors would not tell us about a continuous process of creation in six or seven days, but rather would present a short one, somewhat similar to the modern “big bang” theory. 42 As a result, light can now exist alongside the darkness (that already existed prior to the start of the Creation process). V. 5 accordingly states that God gave names to each of these elements when they took their proper places: “God called the light Day, and the darkness He called Night,” and consequently, in the same verse: “And there was evening and there was morning, a first day.”

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“Let there be a firmament in the midst of the water,” that is, this address by God is to the water from which the firmament will appear, to separate between the upper and the lower waters. We should keep in mind that the process of Creation in the first three days is not engaged with “creating,” as we use this term, but with circumscribing the place of things that exist in chaotic fashion, all mingled together, and in the providing of boundaries that establish order.43 My reading formulates what happened in the first three days as follows: On the first day, God addresses the darkness,44 that it contract. Once a boundary has been provided for the darkness, that previously expanded limitlessly, the light is seen, as in the midrashic expansion in Tanhuma (Beha’alotekha 5): Flesh and blood lights a lamp from a burning lamp. Could one light a lamp from the darkness? Rather, the Holy One, blessed be He, did light a lamp from the darkness, as it is said (Gen. 1:2): “with darkness over the surface of the deep.” What is written after this [in v. 3]? “God said, ‘Let there be light.’” The Holy One, blessed be He, said: Since I have brought light out of the darkness.

God then addresses the unformed and void, so that it would limit its characteristic boundless expansion, thereby creating a special order 43 See the commentary by Ibn Ezra (below) who, in contrast with the other traditional commentators, gave such an explanation of the simple meaning of the narrative. This is how Wellhausen, Prolegomena, pp. 279–98, reads the description of the Creation in Gen. 1 (notwithstanding his belief that chaos did not exist before God’s act of creation). 44 Or to the waters. On this doubt and its expressions in Rabbinic midrashim, see Goshen-Gottstein, “Myth,” pp. 61–66 (see also Lekah Tov, vol. 1, on Gen. 1:3, p. 8: “Some say that this light was from the waters”); it is also possible, however, to view them as a single element. See Ginzberg, Legends, vol. 5, p. 16 n. 41. The latter possibility suits the womb imagery, that patently combines the two elements of water and darkness, and I therefore prefer it. Cf. Campbell, Masks of God, pp. 61–67. In light of this possibility, my discussion (below) of God’s addressing the chaotic should be understood, not as a consecutive action taken after addressing the darkness, but as a simultaneous turning to both the darkness and the “unformed and void” that, in actuality, are a single element, since the light, too, is concealed within the dark waters, that are reminiscent of the liquid, dark state within the womb. This discussion concerning the tehom – if we agree that it includes the element of darkness – seems to be connected to another discussion in the aggadic sources, on the question of whether the darkness is an exiling “being,” or just a name for the absence of light. See Ginzberg, Legends, vol. 6, pp. 7–8 n. 17. Interestingly, two possibilities are presented in the Zohar, as well, but there the doubt is whether the first element from which all was created is the waters or the earth. See Tishby, Wisdom, vol. 2, p. 553.

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for the structure of the deep: the lower waters were concentrated in the oceans and the rivers (and following this limitation, the dry land was revealed). Once these boundaries are established, a three-storied structure has been formed: the water under the earth, the expanse between the dry land and the firmament, and the water above the firmament. In these first three days, order was created and boundaries were set for the primordial matters that roamed the Universe mingled together; that is, a demarcation for the darkness, that had been unlimited in time, and for the waters, that had been unlimited in space.45 This basic idea is maintained in the continuation of the Creation process: the Biblical narrative does not speak of creation ex nihilo, but of the creation of something from something. New elements are born of existing ones.46 Verse 9 is to be understood as an address to the water: “Let the water be gathered […] that the dry land may appear.” Once the dry land, that is, the Earth, exists, v. 11 says of this dry land: “Let the earth sprout vegetation: seed-bearing plants, fruit trees of every kind on earth that bear fruit with the seed in it”; and again, this is followed by an address to an already-existing element (the firmament), to bring forth from within itself the lights (v. 14): “Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven”; after this, creation again issues forth from two existing elements: it is said of the lower waters (v. 20): “Let the waters bring forth swarms of living creatures”;47 and of the upper waters (v. 20): “and birds that fly above the earth across the open firmament of heaven.” And, yet again, living creatures are made from the earth (v. 24): “Let the earth bring forth every kind of living creature: cattle, creeping things, and wild beasts of every kind.”48 45 This portrayal is based on Emanuely, Genesis, pp. 48–49. In the second description, in Gen. 2, we can also detect the independent existence of the waters, since Adam, Eden, and the trees are created by God, while the already existing mist was watering “the whole surface of the earth.” 46 An important point should be stressed here: my use here of the verb “to give birth” is not metaphoric! 47 I say this despite the comment by Ehrlich (Mikra ki-pheschuto, Genesis, p. 3, on Gen. 1:20) that this is not directed to the waters, since logic dictates that if this was the general picture of ex materia (to which Ehrlich generally agrees), there would be no reason to make an exception for the water creatures. 48 Since the narrative mentions only the utterance of God in relation to some of the new creations, while both speech and action are connected with others, we must interpret this as follows: in those instances in which both speech and deed are specified, the use of both means that God had to aid the entity to whom the address was directed with a certain action, so that it would “give birth” to the new creation the potential of which was identified in it by God. Thus, e.g.,

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An interpretation of this sort for the Creation narrative might not seem to be so startlingly innovative if we recall that a kindred understanding is already present in the Apocrypha, where the conception of Creation ex materia was still not rejected.49 The Slavonic Book of Enoch50 portrays the creation of the world as a process implemented by activating the created. God calls to Enoch and tells him: “Whatever you see […] I myself will explain it to you. Before anything existed at all, from the very beginning, whatever exists [as it is now] I created from the non-existent [as it was formless], and from the invisible the visible.”51 Afterwards, God calls upon the angel vv. 3–5 state that the light was created, and God saw that it was good and distinguished it from darkness. In v. 6 God addresses the water with the statement: “Let there be a firmament in the midst of the water, that it may separate water from water” – and the new creation bursts forth from within the light, the firmament that separates between water and water; now, God aids this with a certain action, since v. 7 immediately continues: “God made the firmament, and it separated the water which was below the firmament from the water which was above the firmament.” And likewise, further on in the narrative (v. 16), in relation to the lights: “God made the two great lights”; and v. 25 attests, concerning the creation of the animals: “God made wild beasts of every kind and cattle of every kind, and all kinds of creeping things of the earth.” In any event, these verses do not explain why the special assistance of God’s action was necessary in these cases. 49 The Wisdom of Solomon (11:17) states: “For thy Almighty hand, that made the world of matter without form,” which is also indicated in the version of LXX on the verses from Genesis; see Zipor, Septuagint Version, pp. 55–57. In order, however, to avoid an imprecise account of the history of the Jewish conceptions, it should be noted that quite early Jewish sources already posit creation ex nihilo. See O’Neill, “How Early,” that explores the most ancient sources in which this conception is present. His research indicates that this approach might already be hinted at in Prov. 8:24 (“There was still no deep when I was brought forth”), since this text might want to reject the possibility of a literal reading of Gen. 1, that is, the assumption of creation ex materia. At any rate, O’Neill does not doubt that the conception of creation ex materia is already present in II Macc. 7:28; and also in the writings of Philo and in those of the Dead Sea sect (that distinguish between what occurred within the Godhead itself and the creation of substantiality itself, since, regarding the latter, they clearly believe in creation ex nihilo). 50 Also known as 2 Enoch and Razei Hanokh (the “Secrets of Enoch”), in Artom, Apocrypha. On the different names and versions of 2 Enoch, see Barzeli, “Angels,” p. 472 and n. 37. 51 2 Enoch, version J, 24:2; trans. Andersen, in Charlesworth, Pseudepigrapha, vol. 1, p. 142 (the explanation in brackets follows Zipor, Septuagint, p. 57). Version A (25:2; Charlesworth, p. 143) differs: “whatever is I created from nonbeing into being, and from the invisible things into the visible.” Artom, following version A, takes pains to harmonize 2 Enoch with the accepted concept of

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Adoil52 to beget the light,53 “and let what is born from you become visible”; and in consequence: “And he disintegrated himself, and there came out a very great light.” The angel of darkness, Arkhas,54 is addressed in similar manner, and from him came forth “an age, dark, very large.”55 In the continuation of 2 Enoch, as well, this approach is expressed in its formulation of the concepts of Creation as a command that the created things “beget.” Thus, for example, “And on the third day I commanded the earth to make trees grow, large and fruitbearing”;56 and also: “And on the fifth day I commanded the sea to engender fishes.”57 Now we have a better understanding of the singularity of the creation of man: this is the only act of creation for which it is not said that God addressed a previously-existing element, so that it would bring forth this new creation.58 All that is said of the creation of man is (v. 26): “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.” Man is therefore the sole creature not created by turning to an existing element, but directly by God Himself. At this point, we could be so bold as to suggest that, according to the Priestly version of the Creation narrative, man’s creation in the image of God means that man resembles God because he is created ex nihilo. This innovation, of the creation of a completely different creature and his insertion in the reality of a world that was created – in

52

53 54 55 56 57 58

creatio ex nihilo, but Zipor (Septuagint Version, p. 57) finds no justification for this. According to Zipor, the “invisible” is a Platonic concept relating to the world of Ideas that preceded the material world, and the wording “formless” describes the primeval nature of the world. In version J; in version A: Adail. In version J he had a very large stone in his belly, that contained all the potential material of the world: “a very great stone, from which came all the creation which I had wished to create” (following the version in Artum, but even Artum in his commentary preferred the version in ed. Kahana, that speaks of the light within it, and not of a stone; see also Charlesworth, pp. 144–45 and p. 144 n. 25c). In version A: “let what is disintegrated from you.” In version A: Arukhas. Version J (26:2); Charlesworth, p. 144. Version J (30:1); Charlesworth, p. 148. For the formulation “I commanded” in that version, see below, n. 62. Version J (30:7); Charlesworth, p. 150. Thus, only according to the first, Priestly account of Creation.

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its entirety – ex materia, seems connected to man’s being the only creature with the possibility of dialogue between two totally distinct entities. God and man are two complete subjects, in the full sense of the word. Until now, in my reading, there was a certain extent of subjectivity in the dialogue with the natural world;59 and now a new opportunity arises for dialogue between two whole personal entities, possessing full consciousness. At this juncture, we understand Scripture’s emphasis of man’s being created similar to God, in His likeness.60 And now we can also comprehend the surprising transition in the Biblical rhetoric to exalted and uplifting lyrical language: “And God created man in His image/ in the image of God He created him/ male and female He created them” (v. 27).61

The Midrashic Sources, and Their Relation to the Proposed Dialogic Reading My reading, as was noted, assumes that God’s addressing of the various entities that precede the creation of man is a gentle and dialogic call. The question of whether or not to accept this assumption is dependent on a preceding decision, which has no decisive textual evidence, as to whether the word “yehi” is to be read as a distant and cold imperative 59 At this point in the discussion, my understanding is based on Buber’s profound insights in I and Thou, pp. 21–22: “The spheres in which the world of [I-Thou] relation arises are three. First, our life with nature. There the relation sways in gloom, beneath the level of speech. Creatures live and move over against us, but cannot come to us, and when we address them as Thou, our words cling to the threshold of speech. Second, our life with men. There the relationship is open and in the form of speech. We can give and accept the Thou. Third, our life with spiritual beings. There the relation is clouded, yet it discloses itself; it does not use speech, yet begets it. We perceive no Thou, but none the less we feel we are addressed and we answer – forming, thinking, acting. We speak the primary word with our being, though we cannot utter Thou with our lips.” 60 The commentators struggled valiantly trying to understand the plural language here. Is God addressing the angels? We will leave the answer to this question to the conjectures by the commentators themselves; I wish merely to stress the fact that even the initial thought of the creation of man was conducted in dialogic language. 61 See Emanuely, Genesis, p. 55. In this respect it is noteworthy that various Jewish legendary sources (that might be connected to more folkloristic circles) tell the story of the creation of the water in an extremely brutal way. See the sources collected by Hazani, “Tikkun,” p. 106 n. 49.

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(as, for instance, it was understood by Dov Noy) or as refined wording that expresses closeness.62 My proposal rests mainly on what seems to be the intentional fashioning of the Biblical rhetoric as the antithesis of the Mesopotamian source, that presented the Marduk-Tiamat contact as a terrifying struggle between the sexes, in which the male must “split” the feminine symbol of Chaos and conquer it. Midrash Tehillim alludes to such a metaphoric-poetic understanding: The painter can draw nothing except by hard work, while the Holy One, blessed be He, [does so] by speaking, as it is said (Gen. 1:3): “God said, ‘Let there be light.’”63

This statement, that God “drew” the world by means of the utterance “Let there be,” is obviously close to my assessment, for the artist (and here God is portrayed as “painting” the world by “statement”) does not command his works, but “sculpts” the inherent images and realizes their potential.64

62 Most modern Biblical scholars – unlike the traditional commentary cited above – read this Biblical description as referring to God’s literal utterance, and not as thought or will. Nonetheless, I have not found any scholar who explicitly raises the possibility that this utterance is an address to something that exists as a subject, as a conversant for God. In any event, even if we accept the majority opinion that, for example, God commands here the deep to bring forth the light from within it, the divine utterance can still be seen, not as an alienated order but as a command with speech in it, an address to a recipient who is a subject, who is to comply with God’s mandate as an independent entity that stands before Him as a partner in conversation. Ps. 33:6: “By the word of the Lord the heavens were made, by the breath of His mouth, all their host” does not rule out such a reading, nor does an additional verse from Psalms (148:5): “Let them praise the name of the Lord, for it was He who commanded that they be created” necessitate the understanding of an estranged command in which God turns to the deep and the other elements of Creation as empty objects. In any case, these verses in Psalms could be viewed as a sort of internal Biblical interpretation that is not the only possible reading of the Creation episode. 63 Midrash Tehillim 18:26; ed. Buber, p. 154. The image of God as a “great painter” appears also in Gen. Rabbah 1:9 (ed. Theodor-Albeck, p. 8), in that “philosopher”’s conversation with Rabban Gamaliel, in the midrash cited below. In that midrash, the “philosopher” is said to have stated that the “materials” with which God “drew” the world are “the unformed, the void, darkness, water, wind, and the deep.” 64 “Tzayar,” which is a linguistic innovation of the Rabbis (see Gluska, “Influences of Aramaic,” p. 1020), is not only a “painter,” as in the modern sense of

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On Building God’s Palace in the Garbage in Gen. Rabbah We reached this conclusion following the midrashic description of God as a “sculptor” who “sculpts” the world with His “statements,” that, as I see it, is included in the following intriguing text in Gen. Rabbah 1:5:65 In the way of the world, if a flesh-and-blood king builds a palace in a place of sewers, dunghills, and garbage,66 does not anyone who comes and says: “This palace is built in a place of sewers, dunghills, and garbage”67 dishonor it? Thus, does not anyone who comes and says: This world was created out of the unformed and void, and darkness, dishonor it? R. Huna [said] in the name of Bar Kappara: If this had not been written, it would be impossible to say it, namely, “God created the heaven and the earth” – out of what? Out of “the earth being unformed and void.”

A study of the exposition together with the surrounding text reveals that it was cited in order to proclaim the impermissibility of stating it; consequently, this midrashic work had already declared beforehand that whoever claims that God created the world of the primordial matter will have his lips “fall silent,” since they are “false lips,” that “arrogantly and contemptuously speak haughty words against the Righteous One [= God].”68

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the word, but, more generally, a maker of form, and could also refer to a sculptor. See Ben-Yehudah, Dictionary, vol. 11, p. 5477. Ed. Theodor-Albeck, p. 3. In this context we should stress the arguments in the philosophy of art raised by Friedrich Schiller and other philosophers that artistic activity is completely different from regular human actions, in that it is based in its entirety on empathy, “on the artist’s ability to identify […] with the subject of the creation, on the need to merge with all and the sense of unity with all […] the task of art is to enable rich and productive merging […] a mental and spiritual existence opens before us in art. We cannot perceive its content by conceptual thought, but rather by contemplation to the point of merging” (Utitz, “Art,” col. 7). These arguments are close to the notion that artistic creativity is merely a way to reveal the true substantiality that hides from us within the chaos of random forms, and therefore “in free artistic merging the world reveals its true nature to us” (Utitz, loc. cit.). The explication of the realistic background by Krauss, Kadmoniyyot, I/2, pp. 271–72 (and Krauss, Talmudische, I, p. 20, in the original German version), indicates that the technical problem of construction on very moist sites deterred commoners from building there. A monarch, in contrast, can order the proper preparatory works for construction in such a difficult location. A Genizah fragment presented by Sokoloff, Geniza Fragments, p. 77, uses even blunter language, and speaks of a palace built on a place of excrement. Which is the midrashic exegesis of Ps. 31:19.

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This explicit rejection appears in the continuation of Gen. Rabbah, in a conversation that Rabban Gamaliel conducts with the “philosopher” who articulates this view:69 A philosopher asked Rabban Gamaliel, saying: “Your God was a great painter, but He must have found good materials to aid Him?” He [Rabban Gamaliel] replied: “What are they?” He answered: “The unformed, the void, darkness, water, wind, and the deep.” He [Rabban Gamaliel] exclaimed: “Woe to that man!70 Creation is written in regard to them all: unformed and void: ‘I make peace and create woe’ (Isa. 45:7); darkness: ‘I form light and create darkness’(Isa. 45:7); water: ‘Praise Him, highest heavens, and you waters’ (Ps. 148:4). Why? ‘For it was He who commanded that they be created’ (Ps. 148:5); wind: ‘Behold, He who formed the mountains, and created the wind’ (Amos 4:13); the deep: ‘There was still no deep when I was brought forth’ (Prov. 8:24).”71

Alon Goshen-Gottstein maintains that the last midrash is exceptional, and that the predominant opinion in the Rabbinic literature (that is, only in the Mishnaic and Talmudic periods; regarding later periods, see below) is that God created the world ex materia, but this conception is connected to a dangerous view, one that is related to the wellknown warning not to explore the act of Creation. The reason for this is that anyone expressing such an opinion is guilty of the sin of pride, and denigrates God by saying that He created His palace on a place of “sewers, dunghills, and garbage.” According to Goshen-Gottstein, this “refuse” matter, in the Rabbinic view, was the waters, which are 69 For a general discussion of such dialogues in the Rabbinic literature, see Herr, “Historical Significance,” p. 207, who maintains that although such conversations appear at times solely as a literary genre in the Talmud and the midrashim, in most instances their contents are historically reliable; their examination reveals that, for the most part, “the subjects of the conversations and disagreements between the sages and the Roman notables are characteristic of the various parties to the conversations and their different periods.” 70 Imprecatory language, directed to that “philosopher.” 71 Gen. Rabbah 1:9, p. 8. E. E. Halevi explains that the philosopher’s words are not directed against the God of Israel or His Torah, but against the Rabbis who distort Scripture, “who do not understand their own Torah.” This philosopher therefore expresses a view similar to that of Plato, that the world was created of primordial eternal matter, and he argues with Rabban Gamaliel, attempting to convince the sage that this is the simple meaning of Scripture (see Halevi, Gates of the Aggadah, p. 95 and n. 65). Halevi also cites Pindar, a fifth-century BCE Greek poet, who depicts Zeus as a painter or great artist. As regards the question of how the “philosopher” (who we may assume was Roman) was acquainted with the Bible, see Herr, “Historical Significance,” p. 291 n. 152, who presumes that these Romans listened to the synagogue sermons of the rabbis.

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the “unformed and void” from which God created the world.72 He writes: This identification of the primordial matter with the waters enables us to understand the nature of the refuse from which the world was created. In various religious traditions the primordial waters symbolize the forces of Chaos, that preceded the Creation. The creation of the world from within the powers of the ancient waters is a Creation from within the unformed and void, from within Chaos. We learn that the study of the act of Creation is forbidden, to prevent an exploration of the negative roots of the Creation.73

72 See above, n. 44, on the possibility of identifying the water and the darkness as a single element. 73 Goshen-Gottstein, “Myth,” p. 59. Cf. also Sefer Yetzirah 2:5: “He created [the world] from its actual ‘unformed and void.’” See the observations by Liebes, Sefer Yetsira, pp. 167–68, 222–24, that are especially important for our discussion. Incidentally, Goshen-Gottstein speaks of the presence in the Rabbinic literature of an additional orientation, according to which the primordial “matter” from which the world was created was the Torah, that, according to those midrashim, preceded the creation of the world (see Urbach, Sages, pp. 198–202) – and that these two trends cannot be resolved by claiming that the deep is the matter from which the world was created, while the Torah is the plan of the world; it is clear to him that the claim of the Torah’s antedating the world means that God created the world from the “matter of the Torah,” that is, from the combination of its letters (Goshen-Gottstein, “Myth,” pp. 75–77). We should add that this orientation, that presents the Torah as “primordial matter” that preceded the creation of the world, was developed extensively in the Hellenistic-Jewish and Christian worlds (here as well, we are speaking about the Torah, or a female persona! On the Torah as feminine and in relation to various erotic images, see the extensive collection of sources in Nacht, Symbolism of the Woman, pp. 237–58; and on wisdom and the capacity to think as female, see Pagels, Gnostic Gospels, pp. 53–54). In certain respects, this development is reminiscent of the theological difficulties raised in connection with the primordial matter of the deep. Gnostic texts contain the claim that the Torah is Sophia (= wisdom), the ancient goddess that preceded the world, and which God did not create like the other creatures. In several Gnostic texts she was even presented as God’s mate. Furthermore, in some daring texts it was perceived (in one version) as the mother of the Biblical God, who maliciously created defective creatures, causing His mother, who gave Him everything, such great suffering that she left dominion of the world to Him and departed to the cosmos. Her leaving made room with Him (since, according to those Gnostics, he is by nature arrogant) for the fantasy that possesses Him ever since, as if He is the sole ruler of all (see Pagels, Gnostic Gospels, pp. 57–59; Walker, Woman’s Dictionary, pp. 951–53; Quispel, “Sophia”). All this is diametrically opposed to the perception of God in the classic Jewish sources that views wisdom (Sophia) as belonging exclusively to God the Creator and as reflected for us in all His acts of creation in the world. See Schnabel, Law and Wisdom, pp. 16–20.

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In any event, the manifestations of this view were unquestionably regarded by the Rabbinic literature as reprehensible, and in consequence, almost all the medieval Jewish commentators emphatically refused to accept this as the simple meaning of the scriptural text. The aggadic commentator R. Samuel Jaffe Ashkenazi concisely summarized this accepted position, that had to be the starting point for every commentator in interpreting the sources of the midrash: This is His power, to bring into existence the created from the complete nothingness, which is the foundation of the Torah and a great principle, that is a common saying among Israel, that this creation was from total nothingness.74

In this spirit, the commentators strove to find explanations that would harmonize this position with the simple meaning of the Biblical text. Thus, for example, Hizkuni writes in his commentary to v. 2: “‘Over the surface of the deep’ – over the place where the deep would [later] stand.” The fear of heresy by whoever insisted on accepting the literal meaning of the scriptural text is explicit in the explanation given by the Tosafists, who wrote: The one who interprets that the unformed and void [and obviously, the deep, as well] existed prior to the Creation will have to stand in judgment.75

Notwithstanding this, and quite surprisingly, we also find individuals within the traditional commentary who insist upon taking Scripture at face value. This apparently is the view of Ibn Ezra in his commentary to Gen. 1:1: Most of the commentators said that the Creation was ex nihilo […] but here, they forgot (v. 21) “God created the great sea monsters” […] and we found [the language of creation] from the heavy conjugation [i.e., pi’el, pu’al, hitpa’el ]: “[‘If you are a numerous people,’ Joshua answered them, ‘go up to the forest country] and clear an area [u-vereta, from the root X ’’rb ] for yourselves there[, in the territory of the Perizzites and the Rephaim, seeing that you are cramped in the hill country of Ephraim’]” (Josh. 17:15) […] “[Let the assembly pelt them with stones] and cut them down [u-vare – again, from the root X ’’rb ] [with their swords; let them kill their sons and daughters, and burn down their homes]” (Ezek. 23:47), with the meaning: to distinguish and establish a boundary. The discerning one will understand.

74 Ashkenazi, Yefeh To’ar, fol. 9a. See also the determination by Piron, “Perfection,” p. 16: “The conception concerning Creation ab initio was a primary and unassailable axiom during the time of the Tannaim and Amoraim, and actually, for all time.” 75 Gellis, Tosafot Hashalem, vol. 1, p. 18 (on the interpretation of v. 5).

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Ibn Ezra does not understand the verb X ’’rb here in the usual meaning of creation ex nihilo, rather, God set a boundary for already existing things. As Kohen explains this stance: The Creation is therefore a new establishment of an event or role not previously existent in the reality in this form and with this content: the imparting of a new framework, a new particularity, a new essence; reorganization of a situation, but all these do not comprise creatio ex nihilo.76

Ibn Ezra was harshly attacked for this view by other commentators, such as Abrabanel: […] since he does not accept the beginning of our Torah with the belief in the genesis [i.e., creatio ex nihilo] of the world, in its absolute generality, why should we argue with him regarding the interpretation of this verse, since we have no reason to speak with anyone who denies this premise.77

Another view, that was developed already in the time of the Amoraim, resolves the difficulty of creation ex materia by arguing that the “materia” from which God created our world is simply the ruins of earlier worlds that God created and destroyed. This idea is expressed by R. Abbahu in a midrash in Gen. Rabbah: […] for the Holy One, blessed be He, creates worlds and destroys them, until He created these. He said: These are pleasing to Me, those [previous worlds which were already destroyed] were not pleasing to Me.78

R. Abbahu thereby adopts the Stoic conception of the cyclical creation of the world, but adapts it to Judaism, by presenting the Creation, not 76 Kohen, Philosophy, p. 109. R. Judah Halevi, too, offered legitimacy to the belief that the world was created by God from primordial matter. See Lasker, “Judah Halevi,” p. 185. 77 Abrabanel, commentary on Genesis, p. 3 (Question 1). But see also the reserved opinion of Ibn Ezra’s commentary by Lipshitz, Ibn Ezra, pp. 155–72. Abrabanel devoted his book Mifalot Elohim to prove the idea of ex nihilo, in opposition to those, such as Ibn Ezra, who thought that the world was created from primordial matter. 78 Gen. Rabbah 3:7 (ed. Theodor-Albeck, p. 23); see also 9:2 (p. 68); see Kasher, Peshuto, vol. 1, p. 11 n. 1. Similarly, medieval Christian mystics chose to assume that God ab initio created the chaotic primordial and unformed matter. See, e.g., the text by the Jesuit Athanasius Kircher cited by Jung, Psychology and Religion, p. 124 n. 21. Kircher might have learned this from Wisdom of Solomon 11:17, according to one interpretive possibility of that passage. See Zipor, Septuagint, p. 57; or, he might have read this for himself in the Bible, in the first verses of Genesis (as they were read by Wellhausen; see above, n. 41). A text by Augustine, however, seems to have the Bible tell us about the chaotic primordial matter only because most people cannot imagine how God created the world from absolute nothingness (see Augustine, Confessions 12:15, p. 256).

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as a supreme natural law of the eternal periodicity of the creation of worlds, but as a planned and intentional act by God.79 Influenced by R. Abbahu, the Zohar (1:39b) offers this interpretation of Gen. 1:2: “The earth being [unformed and void]” – […] it already was, before this time.80 79 Goshen-Gottstein, “Myth,” pp. 71–72. Goshen-Gottstein accordingly writes that “R. Abbahu perceives the prior worlds as the contents of the ‘unformed and void’ with which the Creation narrative begins.” He identifies (pp. 64–66) two ways in the midrash for understanding the creation of the light, but it should be said that the theory of Mircea Eliade that he cites (pp. 65–66 n. 35) allows for a deeper understanding of a third midrashic position, that regards the light as existing in potential within the primordial darkness and as an element that bursts forth from it by the division that God performed between the elements that were inherent in the “womb” of darkness. This depiction resembles that of the Kabbalist R. Ezra, a contemporary of Nahmanides (introduction to Song of Songs, in Nahmanides, Writings, vol. 2, p. 482): “He [God] selected from the endless darkness […] By His speaking He put an end to the darkness, that is, he delineated a boundary for the darkness and gave it an end and a purpose […] accordingly, Scripture uses the wording of beri’ah [creation] for the darkness, and that of yetzirah [formation] for the light, that was present in potential in the darkness.” This idea, of a differentiation from a single early element that formed both the light and the darkness, is already expressed in a midrash in Gen. Rabbah 3:4 (ed. Theodor-Albeck, p. 22): “R. Berachiah said, This is the exposition of two men of world renown, R. Johanan and R. Simeon ben Lakish: ‘And He separated’ – an actual division. A king had two chiefs of the guard, one in command by day, and the other in command by night, who would quarrel with one another. One said, ‘I will rule by day,’ and the other said, ‘I will rule by day.’ The king summoned the first and said to him, ‘Soand-so, the day will be your province’; and to the other he said, ‘So-and-so, the night will be your province.’ Thus [Gen. 1:2], ‘God called the light Day’ – He said to it, ‘The day will be your province’; ‘and the darkness He called Night’ – He said to it, ‘The night will be your province.’” 80 It is noteworthy, as an addition to the above discussion, that a later residuum of this debate continued even into the current discourse of Bible research (see also n. 41, above). Kaufmann, Religion of Israel, vol. 1, pp. 67–68, asserts: “Later Judaism regarded the belief in creation ex nihilo as one of the doctrines that differentiated it from paganism” (p. 67). Kaufmann albeit concedes that “[i]n the Bible, this principle is not yet made explicit” and that “[t]he story of Genesis 1 seems to represent the tohu wabohu (comprising the watery deep, darkness, and earth) as a kind of primordial stuff out of which God fashioned the world. Herbage and animals sprang from the earth, and sea creatures out of the waters” (p. 67). He nonetheless rejects this reading, that is accepted by many scholars, because “[n]owhere do we find that the cosmic elements – e.g., earth, heavens, sun – were fashioned out of pre-existent stuff” (p. 68). He also suggests understanding this passage in light of the portrayal in Ps. 104:5–9, such that God first created the earth, and then enclothed it with the waters of the deep, after which He limited the expansion of those waters and set a boundary for them (Kauf-

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On the End of the Creation Passage: The Elements of the Sabbath and Sanctity This dialogic reading can also finely elucidate the new element that is added so dramatically to the opening Biblical depiction of the Creation: the element of sanctity that is the goal of this passage, as it ends (Gen. 2:1–3): mann, History, vol. 1, p. 437 n. 1). Kaufmann’s view was recently opposed by Knohl, Biblical Beliefs, pp. 12–18, who argues that Kaufmann erred methodologically, since “only one who assumes […] that the Bible reflects a uniform conception could use other Biblical sources to clarify the conception in Gen. 1. Critical Bible research, however, reveals many inconsistencies between different Biblical sources, and therefore we cannot draw conclusions from one source regarding another” (p. 14). Kaufmann speaks of this elsewhere (History, vol. 2, pp. 407–8), as he sets forth his general argument that the Biblical conception does not assume an early root of evil, and that we are not to accept the notion that God created the world from the primordial darkness matter (“the element of evil in pagan myth, the realm of Ahriman”). Here Kaufmann offers the following reasoning: “in the primordial darkness the spirit of God hovered above the water, in which, as well, God ruled” (p. 407). This argument, too, is rejected by Knohl, Biblical Beliefs, p. 15: “Does the statement that the spirit of God hovered over the waters really reflect God’s dominion over the primordial darkness? Scripture does not depict God’s mastery of the waters and the darkness, but says that alongside the elements of the “unformed and void,” darkness, and the deep, there also exists a divine presence, symbolized by the spirit.” Knohl accordingly concludes that the Priestly Creation passage that begins the book of Genesis teaches of “not inconsiderable proximity between the pagan concept of evil and the Priestly conception,” although he is of the opinion that this is closeness, and not actual identity. He states that “the primordial elements mentioned in Gen. 1:2 (the “unformed and void,” darkness, and the deep) all belong, to some extent or other, to the sphere of evil and negation” (p. 16). Consequently, these lead to the conclusion that “the claim [by this passage] of their antiquity – before the divine Creation – is actually the claim of the existence of primordial evil that preceded God’s activity as Creator.” Knohl explains the continuation (Gen. 1:31): “And God saw all that He had made, and found it very good” as follows: “Everything that God created was very good. Evil was not created by God. It preceded God’s Creation that is depicted in the first chapter of Genesis!” (pp. 16–17). My proposal tends, on the one hand, to accept the literal meaning of the Scriptural passage as Knohl understands it, but, in contrast with Knohl, my reading leads to a totally monist understanding (and obviously is supported by Kaufmann’s argument of the difficulty in viewing this passage as disparate from the other parts of the Bible that negate the separate existence of evil); since, I maintain, the Bible is not overly concerned by the early pagan myth itself of the existence of primordial matter, but by the theological conclusion resulting from the dualistic conception, that assumes that evil has an unfettered

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The heaven and the earth were finished, and all their array. On the seventh day God finished the work which He had been doing, and He ceased on the seventh day from all the work which He had done. And God blessed the seventh day and declared it holy, because on it God ceased from all the work of creation which He had done.

In the Bible, unlike the Mesopotamian myth, the act of Creation leads, step after step, to the sublime goal of sanctity, that appears together with the element of blessing. Sanctity, according to the manner in which we seek to understand it, is that of the Shekhinah (Divine Presence), that is present at the time of dialogic encounter; and this can rest on the act of Creation only once that man has been created in the image of God as a complete subject, that can address, in dialogic fashion, the other creatures as subjects. Only then can it be said that the Creation is completed, when it receives the blessing of sanctity. By its very nature, however, this blessing cannot become an additional created element in the world. Rather, this sanctity, in its entirety, is dependent upon the place in the world, alongside God’s beneficial activity (a claim the acceptance of which, according to Knohl’s reading, is the cardinal point that occupies the Bible’s composers – and with which, specifically, they choose to begin the Bible!). From this respect, my reading goes back and joins Kaufmann’s, but without the restraints of distance from the literal meaning that he presents. Notwithstanding this, my agreement with Knohl’s reading of the simple meaning does not, in any way, lead me to his implausible conclusion that this passage is intended “to justify God. In order to attain God’s justification, and to free Him of responsibility for the existence of evil in the world, the Priestly Torah is prepared to acknowledge the limitation of His standing as Creator of all. God’s Creation in its entirety is good, and He did not form the evident evil in the world” (Knohl, p. 18). I therefore assume that the Bible tells here of primordial matter (that was not created at the same time, or at least not together, with everything else created by God, and the Bible does not relate to its source). On the other hand, my reading emphasizes God’s special ability to produce one thing from within another, by a dialogic address to the existing entities (my assertion here somewhat extends, or could even be perceived as a commentary to, what Knohl, too, identifies, as he writes: “Unlike the war myth of the Ancient Near East and its parallels in the Bible, the Priestly description of the Creation does not depict a struggle between the forces of good and evil. The evil elements do not wage war against God, and He creates the world in a peaceful manner” [Knohl, p. 17]). Within this dialogue He procreated the entire world; afterwards, man – who is created in the image of God – is able, from then on, to continue this productive work, at the conclusion of which he, too, can say: And man saw all that he had made, and found it very good. As with God, the primordial matter stands before man, as well; and like God, man, too, by a dialogic address to the world, can cause to procreate and become a productive product. Cf. n. 65 above in this chapter.

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human creature’s choice to direct himself to the way of dialogic life for the purpose of encounter with the other creatures (“of creation which He had done,” literally: “which He created to do”).81 If man had necessarily and inherently addressed the others in a seeming dialogue, this would not have been a real dialogue, but a mechanical, compulsive, and automatic encounter. This also finely explains why the literary fashioning of the act of Creation so clearly parallels the description of the construction of the Tabernacle, that is, the place where God’s Presence rests in the world.82 Bible scholars recently noted this,83 but it was already identified in a Rabbinic exposition:84 Why does it say (Ps. 26:8): “O Lord, I love Your temple abode, the dwellingplace of Your glory”? Since it [= the Tabernacle] is equal to the Creation of the world. How so? Regarding the first [day] it is written (Gen. 1:1), “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth,” and it is written (Ps. 104:2), “You spread the heavens like a tent cloth”; and regarding the Tabernacle, what is written? “You shall then make cloths of goats’ hair” (Exod. 26:7). Regarding the second: “Let there be an expanse” (Gen. 1:6), and separation is mentioned in it, as it is said, “that it may separate [mavdil] water from water” (loc. cit.); and regarding the Tabernacle it is written (Exod. 26:33): “so that the curtain shall serve you as a partition [ve-hivdilah].” Regarding the third, water is written, as it is said (Gen. 1:9): “Let the water be gathered”; and regarding the Tabernacle, it is written (Exod. 30:18):“Make a laver of copper and a stand of copper for it [for washing, and place it between the Tent of Meeting and the altar.] Put water in it.” On the fourth, He created lights, as it is written (Gen. 1:14): “Let there be lights in the expanse of the sky”; and regarding the Tabernacle, it is written (Exod. 25:31): “You shall make a lampstead of pure gold.” On the fifth, He created birds, as it is said (Gen. 1:20): “Let the waters bring forth swarms of living creatures and birds that fly”; and in the Tabernacle, corresponding to them, to offer sacrifices of sheep and birds [“The cherubim shall have their wings spread out above” – Exod. 25:20]. 81 On this expression see also below. 82 The Tabernacle represents the manifestation of God’s Presence in the world. On this manifestation, see Koren, who summarizes the Buberian conception of this term as referring to “its [the Divine Presence’s] manifestation [in the world] as Divine presence against human personality and its identification with manifestation of Divine grace, as these features bring its subject closer to the dialogic principle. The dialogic is a redemptive dialogue between man and God, whether by means of the created beings or directly with ‘the Eternal Thou’” (Koren, Mystery, p. 231). 83 See the discussion in Buber, Darko shel Mikra, pp. 55–56; Emanuely, Genesis, pp. 64–65. 84 See also Kiel, “Introduction,” pp. 110–11, and esp. n. 48.

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On the sixth, He created man, as it is said (Gen. 1:27): “And God created man” – in His image, according to the glory of his Maker; and regarding the Tabernacle it is written that a man who is the High Priest who was anointed is to serve before the Lord. On the seventh (Gen. 2:1): “The heaven and the earth were finished”; and regarding the Tabernacle it is written (Exod. 39:32): “Thus was completed all the work [of the Tabernacle of the Tent of Meeting].” Regarding the Creation of the world, it is written (Gen. 2:2): “God finished”; and regarding the Tabernacle, it is written (Num. 7:1): “On the day that [Moses] finished [setting up the Tabernacle].” Regarding the Creation of the world, it is written (Gen. 2:3): “and He declared it holy [va-yekadesh]”; and regarding the Tabernacle, it is written (Num. 7:1): “he anointed and consecrated [va-yekadesh] it.” And why is the Tabernacle equal to heaven and earth? Rather, just as heaven and earth give witness for Israel, as it is written (Deut. 30:19): “I call heaven and earth to witness against you,” so, too, the Tabernacle is testimony for Israel, as it is said (Exod. 38:21): “These are the records of the Tabernacle, the Tabernacle of Testimony.” It therefore is said (Ps. 26:8): “O Lord, I love Your Temple abode, the dwelling-place of Your glory.”85

Josephus, too, was cognizant of this concept: For if one reflects on the construction of the tabernacle and looks at the vestments of the priest and the vessels which we use for the sacred ministry, he will discover that our lawgiver was a man of God […] In fact, every one of these objects is intended to recall and represent the universe, as he will find if he will but consent to examine them without prejudice and with understanding.86

In light of the above, I believe that we can now understand the reason behind Rabban Gamaliel’s vigorous opposition to the position of the “philosopher” cited by the midrash in Gen. Rabbah. Obviously, the Rabbis were well aware of the simple meaning of Scripture here, but, as was their practice, they intentionally “distorted” the text and interpreted it in a way that would precisely express their worldview.87 85 Tanhuma, Pekudei 2. For parallels, see Ginzberg, Legends, vol. 5, pp. 62–63 nn. 320–321. 86 Josephus, Ant 3:179–180 (trans.: vol. 1, pp. 402–3) (see also the comment by A. Schalit, in his “Notes and References,” pp. 68–69 n. 133). See also Philo, Moses (De Vita Mosis), Book II, 88 (trans.: vol. 6, pp. 492–93): “For it was necessary that in framing a temple of man’s making, dedicated to the Father and Ruler of All, he should take substances like those with which that Ruler made the All.” And also Philo, On The Special Laws (De Specialibus Legibus), Book I, 66 (trans.: vol. 7, pp. 136–37): “The highest, and in the truest sense the holy, temple of God is, as we must believe, the whole universe.” 87 For an explanation of the essence of the creative freedom that the Rabbis assumed in their exegeses, that go far beyond the simple meaning of Scripture, see Zivan, Religion, pp. 252–53, who summarizes the views expressed in modern research. Boyarin (Intertextuality, 37 and his discussion) assumed that the mid-

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From the perspective of the “philosopher” (the “Greek” philosopher, along with the Gnostic positions),88 it was God who created the world, but since He created it from primordial matter (that, for the sake of the argument here between the philosopher and Rabban Gamaliel, can be called “the deep”), matter that was eternal and ancient, then God is limited from the time of the Creation, since the limitedness of that matter is a given imposed on God ab initio. These restrictions finely explain the gap between the Platonic assumption that God the Creator is the beneficent God who desires to create the best possible world89 and the harsh reality of this world. This tragic discrepancy ensues from the fact that God (the demiurge, the “artisan” in Plato’s wording) was ab initio subservient to the limitations of matter that He could not fully rectify.90 rash is based on an intertextual technique that expounds the old (as it cites Biblical verses as a basis for its exposition) in accordance with the new (as it imparts a completely new meaning to these verses); consequently, the midrash is both conservative and innovative. Susan Handelman, in contrast, highlights only the midrash’s creative nature, in the spirit of postmodernist understandings. Handelman reached the (quite extreme, in the opinion of some scholars) conclusion that the boundaries between the canonic text and its midrashic interpretation are “fluid in a way which is difficult for us to imagine for a sacred text,” and that the midrashic interpretation is free of any commitment to the canonic text (Handelman, Slayers, p. 41. See the discussion in Zivan, Religion, pp. 242–43). See also Cohen, “Midrash as Commentator.” Notwithstanding this, we should briefly mention the fact that the Rabbinical tradition frequently sets a boundary in Biblical exegesis that cannot be crossed for ideological reasons. Another example of this is their resolution not to read the Song of Songs literally, but as a dialogue between Israel and God. See Lieberman’s view of this question, cited in Muffs, Love & Joy, p. 135 n. 32 (for this reason the medieval rabbis objected to teaching the Bible to the masses, and regarded Talmud study as primary, as this was formulated by R. Judah in his acknowledgement of the Christian attacks in Yalkut Paris [a manuscript containing a condensation of passages from the Talmud submitted, at the request of the Church in the medieval period, to cast the Talmud in an unfavorable light. The original text has been lost, but an abstract is extant, in the Inguimbertine Library (Bibliotheque Municipale Inguimbertine) in Carpentras, France]: study of the Bible pushes the student into the arms of another faith, because in the Bible in its simple meaning – according to the Rabbinic view – there are many difficult instances that can be understood only by means of the Talmud. See Merchavia, Talmud, p. 258 and n. 40). 88 On the sages’ struggle against Gnosticism and the fact that the Rabbis frequently waged a simultaneous struggle on many fronts against Gnostics, Christians, and pagans, see Barzeli, “Angels,” pp. 473–74. 89 See Plato, Timaeus 29D-30A, p. 33; 47E-48A, p. 160. 90 See Finkelberg, “Creation,” pp. 58–59. Roger Hazelton finds the same perception in the Christian thought: “Christian Theology has always understood that

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Clearly, then, for the “Greek” the world was, ab initio, created flawed because of God’s primal powerlessness. Arbitrary fate, that is no more than a toss of the dice, is therefore fundamentally imprinted in this world; consequently, the “Greek” cannot conceive of the Creation concluding on such a strong note as that of the “seventh day,” which is the day in which, as Scripture proclaims – God’s work is completed (“The heaven and the earth were finished, and all their array. On the seventh day God finished the work which He had been doing” – Gen. 2:1–2). The Biblical text similarly emphasizes that God gazed upon His acts, and when He saw them as finished, he responded to them as follows (Gen. 1:31): “And God saw all that He had made, and found it very good.”91 The seventh day’s sanctity and blessing are expressed in this day’s being testimony (and one could almost say, protest) against the conception that God did not finish His work due to some self-shortcoming, and this deficiency is the cause of the evil present in the world. In our reading, the text of the Bible’s opening passage primarily alludes to the aim for which the world was created, and with it the human creature as the apex of Creation, namely: the formation of a world of sanctity, that exists by means of man’s dialogic engagement with the other creatures as “Thou,”92 and not as a neutral meeting with the “It.” The Bible does not thereby deny the existence of evil, but it leaves man an opening for rectification, since man, too, can, again and again, creation has its dark, menacing side. What God created is not what was intended” (Hazelton, “Grotesque,” p. 78). 91 It should be noted that, out of other considerations, as well, scholars concluded that Gen. 1 is patently fashioned in a manner so that “its main aim […] is to provide an ideational basis for the Israelite Sabbath” (Weinfeld, Genesis, p. 13). 92 Dialogue that always intersects with the encounter with God Himself, the “eternal Thou.” Buber writes (I and Thou, p. 77): “The extended lines of relations meet in the eternal Thou.” On the development of the concept of “the eternal Thou” in Buber’s thought, see Horwitz, Buber’s Way, pp. 142–60. Horwitz writes that, mainly, this is the conception at the basis of the writings by Ferdinand Ebner, who assumes that “there is only one Thou, and this is God alone.” Every “I-Thou” meeting is therefore an encounter with the divine, which can no longer be called “He,” since the third-person pronoun is anthropomorphic. See Horwitz, pp. 151–59. See also Buber, I and Thou, pp. 48–49. On the similar approach by R. Yehudah Ashlag, who believes that “truly, as regards man, who is still in the created world, there is no difference between love of the Lord, may He be blessed, and love of one’s fellow, for he regards anything besides himself as not really existing” (Ashlag, Matan Torah, p. 30, para. 15), see Ahituv, “Ashlag and Levinas,” p. 475, with a comparison to Levinas’s proximate teaching.

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create the good from within the “primordial matter.” Using a later conceptual formulation, we may state that “indeed, there is evil in the world, but it is important to find the root of hesed [lovingkindness, compassion] in the world, in order to ameliorate the evil and transform it to goodness.”93 The Biblical conception assumes that God created a world that can be infused with a life of “good,” and that the spoilages it contains are a product of human failings and the misuse of the choice that man has been given. This is how I believe we should understand Rabban Gamaliel’s fierce opposition to the words of that “philosopher”: it was not that this sage incorrectly saw the literal meaning of this Biblical passage; rather, he elected to “distort” the text at the beginning of the Creation passage, in order to correctly cast light on what is written at its end. From the Biblical perspective itself, however, there obviously is no contradiction. Scripture assumes, simply, that God created the world from primordial matter (the deep), but – totally independent of this – He completed His work with good. The Bible wishes to emphasize that, at the time of Creation, God vanquished the early mythical elements, which He completely subjugated, despite their being primordial (since Scripture has no reason to tell the reader what was their source). Accordingly, I maintain, this subjugation was not at all violent; to the contrary: it resulted from God’s dialogic address to these primordial entities. In response, the “feminine” matter brought forth from its “womb” element after element, until the entire world had come into existence. For our purposes, it should be stressed that the conclusion of the Creation passage, in its first formulation, with the Sabbath – and specifically in a fashioning whose numerous details resemble the depiction of the work of erecting the Tabernacle – presents the Bible’s intentional antithesis to the Greek conception of the “demiurge,” that at the time of the Creation was incapable of completely mastering the unruly matter it possessed.94 93 Altmann, Faces, p. 81. An interesting claim, that is well-known from a Rabbinic teaching, as well as from modern homeopathy, is that a cure for one’s illness is to be prepared from a tiny amount of the material that caused it. See Hazani, “Tikkun,” p. 101 n. 29; Ginzberg, Legends, vol. 6, p. 14 n. 82. 94 I obviously do not argue that the Biblical composer was aware of Plato’s views in his work Timaeus. I merely mean that he constructs the Biblical passage in a manner directed against views similar to those voiced by Plato; and regarding the Rabbis: whether they have learned of such opinions from the Greek world, or from Eastern dualism (see the sources mentioned by Wolfson, “Light,” p. 74

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Buber’s Comments on the Creation Passage Martin Buber did not engage in a detailed and precise reading of the Creation passage in Genesis 1. Nonetheless, in one place he made a telling comment on how he thought this passage should be understood, from which it emerges that Buber, too, comprehended that it should be read as a mythos that (as I argue above) is concerned with giving birth from within Chaos. Beyond this, however, he argues that this narrative should be seen as the mythical expression of the psychological process that every person must undergo in the stages of his spiritual maturation in order to stand in the whole place that joins the polarities into a single unity. According to Buber, the legitimate element of the cosmological mythoi (including the version of the Creation episode in the beginning of the book of Genesis) is not the information about the world itself that they contain; rather, these mythoi attest to the “I-Thou” meeting, to the dialogue between God and the humans so privileged. Buber maintains that this passage is therefore a report of God’s call to man to create from the Chaos within himself the encounter with which contains the potential for building a creative dialogue.95 The formation of things in the world is the response by man’s inner Chaos to this dialogue. In Buber’s discussion, the term “unformed and void” becomes a metaphor for the processes that occur within the human psyche, and for the demand made of it to resolve to fashion a spiritually significant direction for one’s life.96 As regards the Tabernacle, Buber concisely summarized the series of thoughts embodied in its literary fashioning that corresponds to the n. 3). On the difference between the dualist approach and Jewish monotheism, see the discussion of Buber, Images of Good and Evil. 95 On the close connection between the ability to live dialogic life and creative ability, see below, n. 142. 96 See Buber, “The Faith of Judaism,” Israel and the World, pp. 26–27. See also Uffenheimer, “Belief in Yihud,” pp. 211–12. We should note that, according to Buber’s reading, this is not only the lowest level of entry to language and culture that we mentioned above, in light of Lacan’s teachings, but the transition from language to a higher spiritual dimension, in which man realizes his being a creature with spiritual potential, and in which he departs from the automatism of language to the meeting with the other as “Thou.” This might even be seen as moving from the “symbolic level” to the “real” during the meeting, to use Lacan’s terminology. See the extended discussion in Kosman and Golan, “A Woman’s Voice is ‘Erva.’”

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Creation passage, in a manner supportive of the reading I set forth above: Just as the Creation of the world is in the nature of a primal revelation, so does the secret of revelation come on the cloud of revelation; and here man is called upon to become “the partner of the Holy One, blessed be He, in the act of Creation”97 […] this, too, should not be disregarded, that the builders, that is, the men of spirit, were designated for and assigned this by God. Notwithstanding this, it is the congregation, and not individuals, that stands as the doer of the labor of building.98

In contrast to the neutral Creation in its Greek formulation, Buber highlights four elements learned from the Creation passage in Genesis 1 and its sister passage, that of the construction of the Tabernacle: 1. God’s appearance in the world by the act of the Creation. 2. the call to man to become God’s partner in the work of creation. 3. the primarily spiritual character of creation-construction, which is placed on the shoulders of the men of spirit. 4. notwithstanding this, Buber further learns from Scripture that the writer placed the practical spiritual work on the shoulders of the congregation (under the leadership of individuals, the righteous). The worldly partnership of the man of spirit with the congregation, as well, is an act of “building” this world.99

97 Buber writes here that this expression “follows a Talmudic dictum, the concept of which is based in the Bible,” and references to BT Shabbat 10a and Niddah 31a. The dictum most relevant, however, is in BT Shabbat 119b, in the name of R. Hamnuna: “Whoever prays on Sabbath eve and recites ‘[The heaven and the earth] were finished [va-yekhulu],’ is regarded by Scripture as if he has become a partner with the Holy One, blessed be He, in the act of Creation, as it is said, ‘va-yekhulu’ – do not read va-yekhulu, but va-yekhalu [they finished; that is, man and God together finished the work].” At any rate, the core of this idea is Tannaitic (cf. Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, Masekhta de-Amalek 2, p. 196). 98 Buber, “The Man of Today and the Jewish Bible,” Darko shel Mikra, p. 56. 99 This principle by Hillel: “Do not withdraw from the community” (M Avot 2:5) has been one of the fundamentals of Judaism throughout the generations, and was maintained even by medieval esoterics. See Scholem, “Religious Authority”; Idel, “‘Hitbodedut,’” p. 39; Maimon, “Rabbinical Judaism,” p. 67; on the view of Maimonides that the public takes precedence over outstanding individuals (to the extent that he could say that Socrates, for example, was dangerous to the public, since he aroused their feelings of anxiety and increased chaos), see Ravitzky, Maimonidean Essays, p. 63, and his entire discussion, pp. 62–66.

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The Gender Significance of the Moderation in the Biblical Portrayal How, then, does the Biblical presentation of the Creation as a primal dialogue differ from that based on the picture of Marduk’s slaughter of the ancient female? We should formulate this question as follows: since the survival instinct is inherent in humankind, as in all Nature, a cessation of the contact between male and female is impossible (unless we adopt an ascetic approach that negates, from the outset, any such contact). The significant question is therefore only in which manner this contact will be forged. It should be stressed at this juncture that from a Freudian perspective, as from a Kabbalistic-Hasidic one, the question of the nature of the contact between the masculine and the feminine is not limited solely to the realm of sexual relations; to the contrary, according to this theory, every human movement, that is, everything related to the creation of human culture, is generated from the sublimated energy of the libido. The contact between Marduk and Tiamat is symbolized by a fearful sexual struggle, in which the male must “split” and conquer the woman. Contact of this type between the male and the female is transferred in subliminal ways to all spheres of life. It is especially noticeable in the vulgar street language that uses all manner of graphic expressions to describe the act of sexual penetration as the aggressive splitting of the other,100 and transfers this to almost every possible realm.101 This basic approach that the Babylonian myth presents – the violent struggle of the conquering masculine side against the chaotic, conquered feminine side – also assumes that sexuality is possible only with the degradation of the object, namely, the penetrated feminine element.102 We should also mention that as a possible result of this mas100 See the extended discussion below. 101 Violent expressions such as “stick it to them,” in sports and political and military struggles. 102 See Freud, Standard Edition, vol. 11, pp. 179–90 (“On the Universal Tendency to Debasement in the Sphere of Love”). From the evolutionary aspect, see Lampert, Evolution, pp. 60–63. See also Elitzur, Into, pp. 98–99, in regard to the attitude to the Other. In this context, we should note the pronouncement by a prominent rabbi in Yemen in the late nineteenth century, that “it is known that when a man engages in intercourse with a woman, she is greatly shamed and humiliated […] at having become a mattress and doormat for her husband” (brought by Stahl, Family, p. 234). This statement is only one expression of a series of earlier Jewish

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culine position the male might adopt a hostile attitude to his descendants, as this is extremely and cruelly depicted in, for instance, the Greek mythos: the male, Uranus, impregnates the female, Gaea, out of his fierce sexual need, but after his offspring come into the world he hates his “monstrous” children.103 The recognition of such, in recent times, as well, led radical feminists such as Andrea Dworkin to argue that an invasive, degrading, and sadistic element is at the basis of the male-female physical meeting, as it has been prevalent and known in everyday human life from time immemorial;104 and women must shun it and refrain from it if they want to preserve their freedom and self-dignity. Dworkin declares, with her usual resoluteness and fervor: The sadism is part of the act of intercourse or an adjunct to it; it is a cruelty of disregard and also a brutality of behavior […] The penetration is implicitly conceptualized as a cutting into, a sadistic, slicing entry […] In the normal but hidden world of everyday, regular sexual exploitation of women as inferiors, the dirty women are sadistically abused because sex itself is used sadistically; intercourse becomes a form of explicit sadism against women. […] Penetration was never meant to be kind […] Sadism and death, under male supremacy, converge at the vagina: to open the woman up, go inside her, penis or knife. The poor little penis kills before it dies.105

Dworkin’s arguments are formulated otherwise by Ruth Herschberger, who addresses the issue in a slightly different manner. Herschberger opens a prism to the common motif in antiquity of a man who forcibly takes a wife by raping a woman.106 To provide several examples of the rapist motif that appear in ancient histories, wrapped in a cloak of glory, I will cite Vered Lev Kenaan, who researched this topic:

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sources that expressly declare that sexual relations are an act that debases the woman (see the additional sources collected by Stahl, p. 224 n. 13). See Eliade, Patterns, pp. 75–77. Dworkin also argues that the severe prohibition of homosexual relations imposed in societies on Biblical grounds originates in the desire by men to protect their status as the “penetrators,” and leave only women as the “penetrated.” See Dworkin, Intercourse, p. 153–56. On penetration into another (especially anal) as an expression of the debasement of the other in the Roman world, see Lankewish, “Assault from Behind”; for similar metaphors in the midrashic literature, see Nacht, Symbolism of the Woman, p. 226 n. 24. Dworkin, Intercourse, pp. 188–90. It should also be noted that the original meaning of the word vagina, that comes from the Latin, is scabbard, which is intended to receive the “sword” of the male. See Mills, Womanwords, p. 244. See below, n. 132, for a parallel phenomenon in the language of the Rabbis. Herschberger, “Rape,” pp. 127–30. For an analysis of the rape motif, see Joshel, “Body Female”; Lev Kenaan, “Female Voice.”

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Herodotus’ choice to open his history book with narratives of the abduction of famous women (Io, Europa, Medea) attests to the complex historical significance of these rape narratives: the kidnapped woman becomes the object of the negotiations that express the relative power of the peoples hostile to one another. The act of rape is not a unique phenomenon limited to Herodotus’ History. According to the historian Livy, the beginnings of the Roman people were rife with acts of rape.107

To return to Herschberger: first, she begins her discussion by emphasizing the physical fact that only a woman can undergo bodily rape, while a male (in heterosexual relations) cannot.108 Beyond this, Herschberger sees this recurring motif in the mythos of antiquity as a primal fantasy of the male who, she claims, is inherently aggressive, and his destructive forces (Thanatos) are much greater than the powers of the woman, who is directed by the life-force and concern for growth (Eros).109 Herschberger also argues, concerning the motif of the male rapist, that the woman knows, from her nature, and is mainly attracted to and needs, the relationship in “sexual relations,” while the myth of the male rapist presents a sort of archetype of the macho figure, who is totally uninterested in relationships for their own sake, and even takes pride in his taking the active role, while the woman must – obviously – remain on the passive side.110 Such an act – actual rape and “rape” as the man’s general attitude to the woman – is naturally perceived by the woman as her being used as an object and as seeming “inter-vaginal masturbation.”111 Herschberger learns from this that the male need for sex in human society does not remain linked solely to the biological urge, the human male needs the sexual act so that he can sense, over and over, his “declaration of ownership” over the woman; he therefore is drawn especially to such “rape” relations that deny the woman any volition. This was taken to such an extreme that customarily in many societies in the past, the very fact of a woman’s being raped by a man obligated her to be married to him, and to be emotionally attached to him

107 Lev Kenaan, “Female Voice,” pp. 20–21. 108 Herschberger, “Rape,” p. 124. 109 Herschberger, “Rape,” p. 123. Incidentally, this point gains prominence as one of the central characteristics of the woman in the Bible. See Shemesh, “Achsah,” p. 37, and esp. nn. 80–81. 110 Herschberger, “Rape,” pp. 124–25. 111 Herschberger, “Rape,” p. 125.

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her entire life – a social “arrangement” known in scholarly research as “abduction marriage.”112 The brutal penetration inside the woman – in both meanings – in those societies was accordingly much deeper than the physical thrust, and the wound and humiliation it inflicted, and which she had to bear her entire life, was much greater that an outside observer could imagine.113 Herschberger compares this stripping the woman of volition, and her becoming the target of male sexuality, to murder, the taking of her soul, since it robs the woman of her natural vitality and self-esteem – and the only response left to her is to shut herself in.114 One reason why women adapted to this humiliating situation, she argues, is because the woman, by her very nature, has greater reservoirs of life-forces than man, and is accordingly capable of adapting to this state of affairs and conducting “normal” family life, despite the profound injury of the very fact of her being married to the man who raped her and robbed her of her self-respect.115 We could quibble about the assertive manner in which Dworkin and Herschberger present their arguments, but I am convinced that for this very reason that they raise, many men feel a vague sense of guilt for the simple fact of their possessing such a vulgar structure. Aristotle already argued that the sense of touch is a shame for the human race, and Democritus portrayed coupling as an “epileptic madness.”116 Maimonides wrote that “with regard to copulation, I need not add anything […] by what occurs in our wise and pure Law, and about the prohibition of mentioning it or against making it in any way or for any reason a subject of conversation.”117 He further writes: “this sense [of touch] that is a disgrace to us – as Aristotle has set forth – and especially in what belongs to it with regard to the foulness of copu112 See Deut. 22:28–29: “If a man comes upon a virgin who is not engaged and he seizes her and lies with her, and they are discovered, the man who lay with her shall pay the girl’s father fifty [shekels of] silver, and she shall be his wife because he has violated [= raped] her, he can never have the right to divorce her.” On abduction marriages in the ancient world as a whole, see Evans-Grubbs, “Abduction Marriage”; Burrows, Israelite Marriage, pp. 51–52; Herzfeld, “Gender Pragmatics”; Campbell, Honour, pp. 124–32. 113 Herschberger, “Rape,” pp. 125–26. 114 Herschberger, “Rape,” p. 127. 115 Herschberger, “Rape,” pp. 123–24. 116 See Halevi, Values of the Aggadah, vol. 4, p. 253 n. 8. 117 Maimonides, Guide of the Perplexed. 3:8 (trans.: p. 434); see also Maimonides, Commentary on the Mishnah, Nezikin, tractate Avot, p. 411.

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lation.”118 Nahmanides similarly writes that “sexual intercourse is held in distance and in contempt in the Torah unless it is for the preservation of the human species.”119 Among contemporary rabbis, R. Eliezer Judah Waldenberg went even further in his Tzitz Eliezer responsa, presenting an entire antisexual manifesto, that is built, inter alia, on a series of “masculine” quotations against the “female temptation,” that appear in what R. Jehiel Michal Epstein wrote in Arukh ha-Shulhan (that, in turn, is based on a misogynistic dictum in tractate Shabbat of the Babylonian Talmud). Waldenberg presents in his responsum: The eminent authority, the author of Arukh ha-Shulhan [= R. Jehiel Michal Epstein, Even ha-Ezer, para. 23] offered an extensive explanation of this, from the perspective of a view of the man’s obligation in his world, in section 1. He says: “Man, who was created in the image of God, will understand and discern with his mind and intellect that the desire inherent in man was not created for the sake of lust, for it is counter to the intellect, as the Rabbis expounded: “‘For He spoke, and it was’ – this refers to the woman; ‘He commanded, and it endured’ – these are the children.”120 ‘Although a woman is a pitcher full of filth and her mouth is full of blood, all speed after her’ (BT Shabbat 152a), and she [= the woman] was created only for procreation, which maintains the world. This is why the Holy One, blessed be He, said to increase this desire for humans and it was so, because He commanded His world to endure, for ‘He did not create it a waste, but formed it for habitation.’121 If the Holy One, blessed be He, had not increased this desire in man, no person would have need of it [i.e., sexual desire], out of disgust. The proof of this is that it [sexual attraction] cannot be accounted as [true] desire, since immediately upon the departure of the semen the desire is totally extinguished. Every person will understand from this: Where is my desire than I previously had, only a moment ago. Rather, he will understand that after the departure of the semen, there is no further need for it [= sexual desire]. Consequently, the desire of the elderly, who are no longer capable of bringing forth semen, ceases, which is not so regarding the desires to eat and drink, for even the most elderly desires a bit to eat and drink.”122 118 Maimonides, Guide of the Perplexed. 2:40 (trans.: p. 384). See also Hoshen, “External Structure”; Kosman, Women’s Tractate, pp. 153–60. 119 Nahmanides, Commentary on the Torah, Lev. 18:6 (trans.: Leviticus, p. 247). 120 The exposition is based on Ps. 33:9: “For He spoke, and it was; He commanded, and it endured.” 121 Following Isa. 45:18: “The Creator of heaven who alone is God, who formed the earth and made it, who alone established it – He did not create it a waste, but formed it for habitation.” In the rabbinic literature, following M Gittin 4:5 (that is based on this verse), the phrase “He did not create it a waste” became a legal term that explains the general directive for halakhic decisors to act in a manner that will enable people to procreate, for “the world was created for procreation” (M Gittin loc. cit.). 122 Waldenberg, Tzitz Eliezer 9:51, “Family Medicine,” chap. 1. See also Zadok ha-Kohen, Mahshevot Harutz, Ot 8, p. 56: “And it [= the sexual urge] is called degenerate, for there is no greater degeneration than this, a pitcher full of filth,

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An additional step was taken in the writings of the rabbis who expressly present desire as something to loathe and hate. Thus, for example, R. Hayyim ben Solomon Tyrer of Czernowitz,123 who was related by marriage to R. Abraham Joshua Heschel of Apta: The main birur [work of inner purification] is in the mind, that he delve so deeply in the wisdom of his intellect and the understanding of his heart until he truly becomes as this in his heart, that he will denigrate, be disgusted by, and absolutely hate desire with the best of his discernment in truth, so that this matter in its material nature will be disgusting, to the very epitome of unparalleled disgust.124

This intense feeling of revulsion is very prevalent in medieval Christian writings, as was shown by Peter Brown. For example: it is related that a monk standing next to a woman’s corpse has lustful thoughts, and then he thrusts his habit in her rotting flesh, so that the smell will keep these thoughts from him. Or, another anecdote, about a maiden who rejects the monk’s advances, warning him that he cannot imagine the stench that arises from her menstrual blood.125 The Church Father Jerome

and her mouth full of blood [BT Shabbat 152a], certainly, what is necessary for the commandment, but all run by the inclination of lust that is implanted in the heart.” 123 On this Hassidic tzaddik and his teachings, see Wacks, Secret of Unity, pp. 17–29. 124 Tyrer, Be’er Mayim Chayim, Noah, 9:3, 75b. We may reasonably assume this was based on the Testament of the Baal Shem Tov: “When beset by mundane desires [a euphemistic rendition of “ta’avat ha-olam ha-zeh” = sexual desire], remove them from your mind. Scorn the desire to the point of it becoming hated and despised by you” (Testament of Israel Baal Shem Tov, para. 9, p. 8). The attitude, however, to sexuality in the Testament is more complex (see on this Idel, “Female Beauty”). In the Talmud itself (see BT Sukkah 52a) and in later sources the Evil Inclination is called “Enemy [literally, “Hater”],” and other sources declare that evil is to be hated (Zadok ha-Kohen, Takanat ha-Shavin, Ot 6, p. 28: “‘To fear the Lord is to hate evil’ [Prov. 8:13] – for this is the level of the one who fears the Lord: to conquer his inclination, to be a hater of evil”). Notwithstanding this, it is noteworthy that Tyrer emphasizes hating the very desire. 125 Brown, Body and Society, p. 242. See also Hazani, “Tikkun,” p. 120 n. 101. Remarkably similar to this is a narrative in Seder Eliyahu Zuta 22 (ed. Friedmann, p. 39) of a pupil of R. Akiva who solicited a prostitute, who rejected him, saying: “My son, the place that you desire is the dirtiest and filthiest of the organs, a pitcher full of filth and trash, no person can bear its stench” (following the version that Friedmann reproduced in his n. 32. To be precise, it should be noted that such elements of religious life are not limited specifically to the woman’s “filth,” but relate to that of the body as a whole. The authors of the ethical teachings literature frequently contemplated the detested odors of their own bodies in order to fight the trait of pride. See Piekarz, Between Ideology

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took this to the greatest extreme, when he said that it is doubtful whether the tremendous self-sacrifice of a woman who died a martyr’s death expunges from a believing woman the “dirt of marriage” that clings to her.126 This medieval mindset, too, clearly links the feeling of disgust with misogyny. Brown cites the emperor Zeno who, according to the Coptic legend, says: “I have heard that monks hate women and that they cannot bear even to speak with one.”127 Modern literature, as well, frequently document’s men’s feeling of revulsion, which in many instances is directed against this sexual component of their personality. Thus, for example, Robert Jensen, a University of Texas professor, records a conversation with a friend who thinks that “when men get past the bravado, we know deep down that getting our sexual kicks at the expense of someone else just doesn’t feel good.” Jensen himself joins in, saying: “I believe he is right. When one [i.e., the male] is in a dominant position, it is easy to obtain sexual gratification by dominating. But after the sexual stimulation is over, what are we left with?”128 What is the consequence of men’s self-disgust at their perception of women? It seems that there is no need to conduct a thorough psychological investigation to identify the quite common possibility of transferal of the repugnance of the sexual urge to the alluring object, namely, the woman. One of the ancient mythic expressions of this repulsion that underwent a transformation in the annals of the religions that draw upon the Bible (and in Christianity, especially, acquired exceptional force) is the myth of Eve as the mother of all women, and as who, after the original sin – for which many sources find her exclusively culpable129 – is also responsible for its transmission, in various sorts of

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and Reality, pp. 32–34; see also Ahituv, “Modesty,” p. 234 n. 26, with a reference to Arukh ha-Shulhan. Cited in Brown, Body and Society, p. 397. On the rejection of marriage in Christianity, see also Schremer, Male and Female, pp. 54–65; and on marriage as filth, pp. 59, 60 n. 104. Additionally, we should recall the well-known historical fact that the ritual of marriage was accepted as a Church ceremony only in a very late period (beginning in the ninth century!); on the tension from the medieval period to the early modern period concerning the institution of marriage in the Church, see Delumeau, Sin and Fear, pp. 431–36. Brown, Body and Society, p. 242–43. Jensen, “Pain,” p. 160. See also Buber, “Bergmann, Conversations,” pp. 143–44. Buber is cited by Bergmann as saying that sexuality is the crudest expression of the interpersonal sphere. On women bearing the guilt for original sin in Christian sources, see the comprehensive list of sources collected by Schechterman, “Doctrine of Original

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filth, defilement, and pollution, to all the women who will be born after her in the course of human history. Rachel Elior noted the identification in various sources, both Jewish and non-Jewish, of the female with evil, from which she learns that filth, impurity, lust, sin, the scheming serpent, forbidden bestial sin, incest, carnality and intrigues, the Evil Inclination, and the breaching of boundaries are all connected to the unbridled nature in Eve, and in Eve’s daughters, all who are seduced and seduce, who require restraint and training, concealment, domestication.130

This loathing, that also evolves into hatred, as we saw above, oftentimes does not distinguish between the urge itself and the woman standing behind it. This is especially striking in light of the fact that many women fight their war of survival by taking advantage of men’s attraction to their body. Furthermore, it is crystal clear to Dworkin that men’s sexual urge is attracted specifically to the “pitcher full of filth” that the female body represents for them. She devotes a lengthy and comprehensive discussion to this topic, for which she collected testimonies from different periods and cultures, all with the same end: presenting the ugly face of the sexual urge, that is always based on the aspiration to humiliate the other. Dworkin’s discussion indicates two directions (that are actually one) of this orientation: One direction is formulated thus: men are attracted to women because they are “dirty,” since, for men, the female body represents the dirty body (the “leaking” body discussed above). Sexual attraction is the arousal that men experience upon the identification of the filthy object, that gives them a sense of superiority. In consequence, they sense their “masculine” potency, that is, an erection. The second direction is couched as follows: at the basis of men’s sexual attraction to women is the need to “dirty” the other. The purSin,” pp. 66–67 n. 7. Some Christian thinkers went so far as to claim that Adam’s only sin in the entire episode consisted of his not having corrected Eve (see Schechterman, p. 84). On the place of this charge in the Rabbinic literature, see Ahituv, “Demonic Traits,” pp. 150–51; and on the woman’s guilt in Maimonides, see Schechterman, esp. p. 84 in the entire article she devoted to this question. The woman’s responsibility for this sin and its consequences is highlighted in Lurianic Kabbalah, as well; see Gamlieli, Psychoanalysis and Kabbalah, p. 47. 130 Elior, “‘Present-Absent,’” p. 237. In a similar spirit, in the second century CE the Church Father Iranius accused women of being attracted to heretical sects. See Pagels, Gnostic Gospels, p. 59.

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pose of penetration is to degrade the sexual object and turn it into an inferior object. Dworkin maintains that the need to dirty the woman’s body, even physically, is indicated by the quite common scene in pornographic movies of men soiling the woman’s body with their semen. In light of what we said above, we can also make the quite plausible assumption that this pollution graphically proves to the man just how much the woman represents Chaos – the Chaos that he, the male, needs to be so good as to penetrate with his phallic sword and give it “form.” Dworkin’s theory perceives the masculine “erection” as the sword that becomes aroused, that is, becomes filled with energy, either to “kill” the hated and “dirty” Other, or because the “dirty” Other, by its very existence, arouses the sexual energy whose role is, in the common English vulgarism, to “fuck” (him/her). Street language reveals for Dworkin what culture conceals behind a thick mask of hypocrisy. In this spirit, she also discusses the Mexican term chingada, and analyzes it as an appellation opposed to the conquering macho. To this end, she cites the explanation of Octavio Paz, with all its fine nuances:131 The verb [chingar, “to screw”] denotes violence, an emergence from oneself to penetrate another by force … The verb is masculine, active, cruel: it stings, wounds, gashes, stains and it provokes a bitter, resentful satisfaction. The person who suffers this action is passive, inert and open, in contrast to the active, aggressive and closed person who inflicts it.132 131 See Dworkin, Intercourse, p. 180. 132 It is not difficult to also identify these patent gender elements in the common use that Israeli street language makes of the root zayin – the modern Hebrew parallel of “to fuck” in English. Even a cursory glance at the traditional sources reveals, once again, what is concealed behind the culture screen that connects ancient Hebrew with the explicit forms of expression of modern Hebrew. If we take, for example, a single characteristic text, from Sefer ha-Hinukh, a thirteenth-century rabbinical work, that seeks to explain why a woman may not wear man’s garments (the basis for the current-day religious prohibition of women wearing pants; see Kosman, Women’s Tractate, pp. 185–89) and analyze these linguistic usages, we will realize that Dworkin’s assertion is not unfounded. Sefer ha-Hinukh writes: “A woman is not to wear a man’s jewelry: that women not wear men’s garb, nor outfit themselves with their weaponry [yizdaynu be-ziyunam]. In regard to this it is said (Deut. 22:5): ‘A woman must not put on man’s apparel’; and as rendered by Targum Onkelos: ‘A woman must not put on man’s zayin.’ It seems that this is why [Targum Onkelos] interpreted the text [that is concerned with male clothing, as referring to] weaponry [keli zayin], because they [weapons] are the appurtenances completely unique to men, for it is not customary for any woman in the world to go forth with weaponry. But it is the law that they [i.e., women] are forbidden by the Torah from going forth in their clothing [any male clothing, not necessarily

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This portrayal closely corresponds with the supposition with which we began this discussion, that this masculine, violent inclination is reweapons] which are customarily worn by people [= men] in that place, such as a woman placing a turban on her head, or other appurtenances that are special for a man” (Sefer ha-Hinukh, Commandment 542, p. 324 [trans.: pp. 172–75]; see above, chap. 1 n. 30, on the authorship of this work). All the characteristic traits indicated by Dworkin are present in this short passage, when we read between the lines. The Biblical prohibition of a woman wearing man’s clothing is couched in the language: “A woman must not put on man’s apparel [keli gever], nor shall a man wear women’s clothing; for whoever does these things is abhorrent to the Lord your God” (Deut. 22:5). The meaning of “keli” here is “item,” in this case, an item of clothing (see Driver, Deuteronomy, pp. 250–51). Targum Onkelos, however, rendered keli gever as “zayin de-gever,” a man’s weaponry. This also emerges from the opinion of the Tanna R. Eliezer ben Jacob: “From where do we learn that a woman may not don weapons and go forth to war? Scripture teaches: ‘A woman must not put on man’s apparel.’ And [from where do we learn that] a man may not adorn himself with women’s jewelry? Scripture teaches: ‘nor shall a man wear women’s clothing’” (Sifrei on Deuteronomy, para. 226, p. 258). The understanding that weaponry is a male “ornament” is patent in this text, and in many other midrashic texts (see, e.g., the fine exposition in Cant. Rabbah 1:16, pp. 16–17: “R. Simeon bar Nahman said: The words of the Torah were likened to a weapon: Just as a weapon serves its owner in time of battle, so too the words of Torah serve those who labor in them properly. R. Hana ben Aha derives this from [what is said in Ps. 149:6:] ‘With paeans to God [in their throats and two-edged swords in their hands]’ – just as the sword cuts on both sides, so too the Torah imparts life in this world and in the World to Come”). On this imagery in the Roman world, see above, n. 105; and for the statements by feminist scholars who observed that the male erotic vocabulary is composed of military terms, see Mills, Womenwords, p. 244, s.v. “Vagina”; and see Freud, “Medusenhaupt,” who interprets the exposing of the penis as an aggressive act which can easily be understood as if the exposer is saying: “I am not afraid of you! I have a penis!” See also the decisive argument in Legman, Rationale, p. 268: “The penis is almost invariably understood in folklore to be primarily a weapon, and not an instrument of pleasure.” What is the significance of this assertion? It undoubtedly assumes that the male feels an uplifting phallic sensation when he bears weapons, and therefore a weapon is an “ornament” for a man. Thus, it is obvious why Targum Onkelos understood “keli gever” (a man’s appurtenance) as “keli gavri,” a manly – i.e., phallic – appurtenance, and it is understandable why Scripture forbids a woman from “wearing” this “phallic sensation,” which belongs to men. In contrast, the opposite prohibition, that a man not wear women’s clothing, is a ban against men primping themselves with feminine adornments, which obviously represents a man who refuses to appear manly and instead puts on characteristically feminine signifiers. These feminine signifiers are therefore to be understood as the opposite of the phallic man: they will represent the fickle, passive, penetrated side. We learn therefore that the tradition assumes as selfevident a social reality in which males adorn themselves in their masculinity by publicly toying with instruments of killing! This, then, is the meaning of the

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flected in the ancient myths in the rites of passage of the splitting of the female monster of Chaos, Tiamat, by thrusting the masculine “sword” verb le-zayen (to fuck), already in ancient Hebrew. The woman, in contrast, is forbidden such adorning, based on the assumption that she must position herself on the opposite side of the range of possibilities: she must represent the passive, penetrated side. Is this too far-reaching? Clearly, these early sources indirectly, and perhaps unwittingly, served as the background for modern Hebrew slang’s invention of the phallic task of the “ziyun.” Would I be going even farther afield if I view the newer use of the word “keli” (as modern Hebrew slang for the penis) as a pale descendant of these sources? There undoubtedly is justice in the argument that the use of the taboo word “zayin” has its origin in the letter-abbreviation zayin, which was originally an abbreviation for zanav (literally, tale), an appellation for a fool, which was a translation of the word shvantz in Yiddish, that also refers to the male organ (see Assaf and Bartal, “Metamorphosis”). It has also been argued that the letter zayin is an abbreviation of the word zereg [penis; see op. cit., p. 74, in the name of Dan Almagor]. There might also be some truth in the claim of the close linkage between the frequent use of all forms of “ziyun” in Israeli street language and the common use of this root in Arabic, where it is has the meaning of beauty and adornment (see Assaf and Bartal, “Metamorphosis,” p. 78), but, in my opinion, we are still speaking of a very close semantic field (see Ben-Yehudah, Dictionary, vol. 3, s.v. “Zayin,” p. 1323 n. 2). Naama Harel’s comments on this issue should be mentioned: “The Hebrew language, both the standard as well as slang is filled with expressions taken from the field of meat and game and transferred into the sexual field. In fact, the entire field of sex is called ‘flesh lust’ or ‘flesh pleasures.’ ‘Sexual hunger’ is a passion for sex. A man seeking a woman for a night is a hunter and is armed with his ‘weapon,’ the organ of manhood. If the woman gives in easily then she is ‘easy prey.’ Events in which women present their bodies (beauty contests, for example) are compared to meat markets and are often nicknamed ‘the butcher shop.’ The Hebrew language also borrows expressions from Arabic, as well as from Yiddish. The word ‘Freha’ in Arabic means a spring chicken, a chick, and a girl’s thighs are called ‘Pulkes’ in Yiddish – chicken legs. A good-looking girl is a chick, meaning ‘a piece, a cut’; and a full-figured woman is ‘juicy.’ The Hebrew language pictures women not only as meat, but also as farm animals prior to their being turned into a product: so, for instance, a ‘Ketchka’ – a goose in Yiddish – means a ‘light-headed girl, a giggler, a racket raiser.’ Common nicknames for a fat woman are ‘cow’ or ‘beast,’ and ‘bunny’ is a nickname for a girl who is easy to get sexually” (Harel, “Vegetarianism”). This phenomenon is by no means unique to Hebrew; see, for instance, in English, “meat” as a nickname for a woman has a lengthy history, beginning at least as early as sixteenth-century England (see Mills, Womenwords, pp. 154–55). At any rate, a word is absorbed in a language on an associative basis, and many reasons can, simultaneously, function as the background for the emergence of a linguistic phenomenon, with no need to prefer any one reason – unlike Assaf and Bartal (“Metamorphosis, p. 73); in general, it seems that they ignored the following ancient Kabbalistic tradition: “the letter zayin alludes to

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into her, to take dominion over “nature” and create the order of “culture” from her. This explains why it has also been argued that modern man’s technological mastery of nature actually reconstructs, in a refined manner, the domination by the masculine of the feminine that recurs incessantly during the course of history in both the private and public spheres.133

The Dialogic Significance of the Creation Episode: Love as a Procreative and Creative Force In contrast with all this, the Biblical portrayal of the Creation – according to my suggested reading of the uplifting beginning of the entire Bible – is that of a dialogic act, one of love. This act merges the two poles in the unifying one, that results from the ability to acknowledge the feminine Other as subject.134 This, therefore, is the great difference the male sexual organ” (Abrams, Female Body, p. 117). To this we should add the fact that the Hebrew letter zayin is sort of wedge-shaped. Whatever face we put on this, it should be noted that Dworkin takes this a step further. She argues that “the woman” is every sexual object, and “sexual object” is not necessarily that which is penetrated in the usual sexual act. Every humiliation of the Other, every racist act, for her, is a sexual act of the penetration, dirtying, and degradation of the body of another and, mainly, its objectification. A “woman” is always an “object” for masculinity. To change a man into a “woman” therefore means to objectify him, to penetrate him. To further this outlook, Dworkin collects evidence from horrifying instances that were directed against both men and women: in the Holocaust against Jews, in the United States against Afro-Americans, and in various places against a populace that was ostracized. In her opinion, racism is closely linked to sexuality (see Dworkin, Intercourse, pp. 183–84, and her entire discussion). 133 See Beck, World Risk, p. 27; Yaron, Toilet, p. 167; see also above, n. 30. Incidentally, Eliade, Eternal Return, pp. 10–11, observes that many cultures perceived every conquest of new territory as a replay of the act of creation, that is, a victory of the forces of order over chaos. In light of our explanations above, such a triumph is obviously to be understood as male order overcoming female chaos (additionally, on the woman as a field, see also the sources cited in Kosman, Men’s World, pp. 67–71 and pp. 68–69 n. 2). 134 Cf. the similar stance presented by Rotenberg, Yetzer. Additionally, it should be noted that the ancient Hindu myth in the Rig Veda hymns bears some resemblance (albeit limited, as I will mention below) to the Jewish Creation myth. The Rig Veda text implies that the god Tvastar existed first, and besides him there were only the primordial waters (apas). At a certain point Tvastar thought to create the world, and he created from the primordial waters the heavens and earth, giving them the “life-principle,” that is, the sexual principle.

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between the cheap sexual depiction that is connected to the mundane element in the human reality, and the description of the act of dialogic love that is at the basis of the sanctified act – so holy in the eyes of the Bible that it corresponds closely to the act of the construction of the Tabernacle.135 It therefore is not surprising that in the first passage God expresses His creative joy in the look in His eyes that is directed to the world in a completely personal way: “And God saw that this was good”136 – in contrast with the pantheistic possibility that denies God any personal

They then coupled and begat the elements from which the entire existing world would later develop (see the study by Brown, “Creation Myth,” and esp. pp. 86–88. See also O’Neill, Night of the Gods, vol. 2, p. 831). Intriguingly, also according to the Rig Veda the sun did not precede the primordial waters, but rather was hidden, apparently as a fetus within those waters, before the god Tvastar thought to bring light into the world (Brown, “Creation Myth,” p. 91 and n. 35A. In the Hindu conception, that is inherently more inward than the other myths, the humans who exist today who do not faithfully observe the cosmic law still dwell in those primordial waters. In their world, the sun has not yet come forth, and now too, it is concealed in the primordial waters as a fetus, and therefore their inner world is dark and bare of Aditi, the element of light, but teems with destructive urges. See Brown, pp. 88–89. For later Indian myths of creation see Ions, Indian Mythology, pp. 24–31). Going beyond the great similarity between the opening of Genesis and the Rig Veda myth, we should also take note of the fact that, at least in this phase of the myth, the creation does not contain a violent element of splitting asunder, nor does this myth portray a struggle between the masculine and the feminine; to the contrary, the god created the life-principle, that causes them to couple and procreate. At any rate, the continuation of the myth is not free of violence, and tells of the continued creation of the world’s creatures from the sundered body of a primordial giant. Unlike the Vedic myth, in which the creation of the entire world and the phenomenon of multiplicity (including sexuality) is illusory and the product of the erring human mind, the Bible assumes that, from a spiritual viewpoint, the created world is truly “very good” (Gen. 1:31). This difference, between the view of the world as a fallacious illusion and the Biblical approach that presents the existence of the world in a positive theological light, strengthens my argument that, in the eyes of the Bible, we meet God here, in this world, in dialogic creativity and encounter; while in the Vedic understanding, true existence cannot be present in reproductive life in this illusory world (see also the important observation by O’Neill, Night of the Gods, vol. 2, p. 831, regarding the Vedic influence on the pessimism of the modern philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer). 135 As we explained above, and following Buber, “Man of Today,” pp. 52–58. 136 Scripture highlights this, repeating this expression in the Creation passage: in Gen. 1, verses 10, 12, 18, 25.

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aspect.137 Furthermore, the creation of the first human male and female is presented as an egalitarian creation (Gen. 1:27): “And God created man in His image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them.” In the continuation, in chap. 5, it is similarly stated (5:2): “male and female He created them.”138 These two Biblical depictions declare that God granted them the greatest of His gifts: His image and His likeness;139 and this present is explained in the description in chap. 1: the ability to create (1:28): “Be fruitful and multiply, fill the earth.”140 (It should be emphasized in this context that the formulation of the beginning of chap. 5 is especially moving, because this verse perceives them as a single integrated unit [5:2]: “And when they were created, He blessed them and called them Man.”) And immediately following, in the next scene in chap. 1, upon the entry of the seventh day, God withdraws, ceases from His work, and leaves for them the continued creation of the world. Man is born into the world in order to live as a procreating creature, in order to create (Gen. 1:27–2:3): “And God created man in His image […] And God blessed the seventh day and declared it holy, because on it God ceased from all the work of creation which He had done.”141 It might be 137 In this context, see Buber’s arguments against Spinoza in the essay: “Spinoza, Sabbatai Zvi, and the Baal-Shem,” in Origin and Meaning, pp. 89–112; see also Buber, “Religion and Philosophy,” in Eclipse of God, p. 46; Uffenheimer, “Belief in Yihud,” pp. 212–14. 138 Unlike what is depicted in the Creation passage in chap. 2, in which the woman is created last. 139 As is stated in Gen. 1:26–27: “And God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, after our likeness […] And God created man in His image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them”; and in 5:1: “When God created man, He made him in the likeness of God.” 140 The Zohar (3:43a) describes this likeness as “a holy spirit, comprising both male and female”; see the comment by Altmann, Faces, p. 77. 141 The Sabbath itself contains a distinctly passive element, and is portrayed in the Bible as a sort of “oasis of perfection and harmony, in which those who cease [from work] are freed from the awareness of lack and from the need to fill it” (Simon, “Portion of Bereshit,” p. 22). It should be noted that this Sabbath passivity does not completely contradict the principle of creativity when the coupling is done in sanctity. This explains why the Rabbinic halakhah did not prohibit sexual relations on the Sabbath. See, e.g., BT Ketubot 62b: “How often are scholars to perform their marital duties? R. Judah said in the name of Samuel: Every Friday night. ‘Which yields its fruit in season’ (Ps. 1:3) – R. Judah said (and some say, R. Huna, or others say, R. Nahman): this refers to [the man] who performs his marital duty every Friday night.” This advice runs counter to other sects, who forbade sexual relations on the Sabbath; see Lorberbaum, God’s Image, pp. 441–42. Buber emphasizes the total mingling of the passive

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learned from the Biblical description – as was done, at least, by several Hasidic masters – that God imparts to man the ability to continue this creation by himself. Thus, for example, R. Zadok ha-Kohen of Lublin interpreted this verse: “‘of creation which He had done’ [in the original Hebrew: “which He created to do”] – that the entire act in the beginning requires correction, even man requires correction […] that is, man is enabled to correct, and [then] it will be very good.”142 The world that “God created, [He created in order for humans] to do.” What is the meaning of this Creation? According to my suggested understanding, the significance of the Creation is the joining together of opposites, the (unique) human ability to connect with the Other as subject and to “couple” with him in a manner that will give birth to a new creation.143 God therefore gives the first couple their bodies as a “musical instrument,” which they are to use to mutually express to each other their sincere soul song. To this end He favors them with the privilege of and active elements in a true dialogue, to the extent that they are no longer distinguishable: “The Thou meets me through grace – it is not found by seeking. But my speaking of the primary word to it is an act of my being, is indeed the act of my being” (Buber, I and Thou, p. 26). See Kosman, “Comments and Explanations,” pp. 519–23. Already in his early book Daniel, Buber emphasized the active way, instead of the path of absolute passivity required by the mystics. See Koren, Mystery, p. 73–74. 142 Zadok ha-Kohen, Peri Tzaddik, 1, Vayehi 7, p. 223. Some among the literalists, at any rate, understood this as an expression of the procreative power given to the whole world. Thus, e.g., the interpretation by R. Abraham Ibn Ezra: “The meaning of ‘that God created to do’ the roots of all the species, that He gave them the power to make in their image” (see the critique of this by Cassuto, Genesis, pp. 69–70). 143 Cf. Buber, “Distance and Relation,” in Knowledge of Man, p. 56: “[Art] is the work and witness of the relation between the substantia humana and the substantia rerum”; see also the entire essay, with its complex discussion regarding man being different from all the other creatures in the natural world, because he was given the unique ability to create. On the parallelism between the act of man and the act of God in the Biblical text itself, see Frisch, Labor of Thy Hands, pp. 33–34. The test of this creation lies in its authenticity, that is, its singularity, in its inimitable originality. This means that the creative life is distinguished by the fact that, in dialogic life, even the simple act of interpersonal communication on everyday matters becomes a one-time act of authentic creativity, without repetitious routine. This requires, on the one hand, that a person must be at one with himself, and, on the other, the capability for clear and intelligible expression, that creates connections with consideration for the other – but without becoming subjugated to him. Consequently, a person can live his connections with other people and the surrounding world without manipulations that are meant to make use of the other as an object.

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contact with the surrounding world for the purpose of this joint begetting, which can come about only after the creation of that fundamental tension between the masculine and the feminine. This, then, is the meaning of man’s creation in the image of God, in the image of God as “the Creator of man,” in the language of the blessing established by the Rabbis for celebrating the coupling of marriage.144 According to the Biblical idea of Creation, the world is one of contrasts, that originate in the masculine and the feminine, and God, who granted man the gift of creativity (with all its dangers), also gave him the special insight at the center of the act of creation: the capacity for empathy.145 This ability enables him to sense the Other as subject, and in this manner to unite with him in the way of the world and, in mysterious fashion, to give birth to completely new worlds. Consequently, the fertility and procreation that result from the connection between the male and the female, between God and the deep in the Creation story, are the primal, basic model, a sort of mold, for man’s ability for creation-procreation in his contact with the material world as a whole. This leads us to conclude regarding the concept of work in its entirety: man’s labor could indeed be seen as punishment, since it is possible for man to use the material in an alienated manner, as an object for his use; while, on the other hand, contact with the material now has the potential for intimate contact, as a subject, and then the curse of labor is transformed into the blessing of creativity.146 144 See BT Ketubot 8a. See also there the blessing that is full of joy at the love and affection that it connects with creation. Cf. the observation by Buber, “Man of Today,” p. 55, that God’s seeing is mentioned seven times in this Biblical passage, with the seventh time being an invitation, so that God could find it “very good.” It should be obvious by now that my last statements, that verge on identifying the “unformed and void” with the body and sexuality, pertain to matters that lie at the very heart of the Jewish-Christian polemic in antiquity. Christianity patently could not accept such formulations, that view the descent to the world of chaos, to the body and the material, as the purpose of Creation. According to the prevalent notion among the Church Fathers, man is to rise above and beyond the material and the body, going upward from down below, from the earth to heaven. Cf. above, Introduction, n. 48. 145 “Empathy means, if anything, to glide with one’s own feeling into the dynamic structure of an object, a pillar or a crystal or the branch of a tree, or even of an animal or a man” (Buber, Between Man and Man, p. 124). 146 The second possible reading was suggested by Gelander, “Story of Paradise”; see Frisch, Labor of Thy Hands, p. 30 n. 67. On the renewal of this idea in the modern period, see Schweid, “Work”; see also Shapira, Light of Life, pp. 251–56.

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True creativity is the product of love, in which case coupling is a “holy coupling,”147 in the manner of Buber’s interpretation of the attribute of “panim ve-panim” (face to face), as it was formulated in Hasidism, following the Kabbalists: […] the attribute of the It is face and back, while man’s focusing upon himself alone is perhaps the attribute of back and back, and the attribute of directness with worldly beings is the aspect of face-to-face, of connection, inclusion and mingling.148

In the same vein: The act of mending the world through love takes place through relation between people. This relation is successful when it occurs through the attribute of “as in water face to face, so the heart of man to man” (“Love of God,” 249; quoting Prov. 27:19).149 This quality of face to face, which in Jewish love mysticism indicates the union of the Sefirot with one other and the resulting birth of the plenum, was already moved to the human plane in the Hasidic source quoted here by Buber, and internalized by him within his own thought in order to indicate the direct nature of the relation among those who live in the world.150

True love for the things in the world is accordingly the productive and procreative force. In Buber’s formulation: The loving man is one who grasps non-relatively each thing he grasps. […] at the moment of experience nothing else exists, nothing save this beloved thing, filling out the world and indistinguishably coinciding with it. […] the loving man’s dream-powerful and primally-awake heart beholds the non-common. […] What you extract and combine is always only the passivity of things. But their activity, their effective reality, reveals itself only to the loving man who knows them. And thus he knows the world. […] True art is a loving art. […] True science is a loving science. […] True philosophy is a loving philosophy. […] Every true deed is a loving deed. All true deeds arise from contact with a be147 On the term “holy coupling” itself in the Kabbalah and in Hasidism, see the list of sources in Elqayam, “To Know Messiah,” p. 668 n. 118. 148 As Buber’s interpretation of the Kabbalistic principle was formulated by Koren, Mystery, p. 272. 149 Following Buber in his essay “Love of God and Neighbour,” in Garden, pp. 177–78. Buber explains that this is based on a parable of the Baal Shem Tov on this verse from Proverbs, that a person must “bow down low towards one’s neighbour, as when someone wants to approach his reflection in the water and bows down low so that it comes towards him until his head touches the water, and he sees nothing more because both have become the one that they really are; so does man’s heart come to man, and not just this one to that one, but all to all.” On this exposition in Hasidic writings, see, e.g., Uri Feivel, Light of Wisdom, 1, Vayakhel, s.v. “Od Yesh Lomar,” pp. 222–23 (R. Uri Feivel of Dubienka was a disciple of the Maggid of Mezerich). 150 Koren, Mystery, p. 317.

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loved thing and flow into the universe. Any true deed brings, out of lived unity, unity into the world. Unity is not a property of the world but its task. To form unity out of the world is our never-ending work.151

We can illustrate this subtle and difficult to comprehend notion with an example that the Jewish tradition used as an archetype of this sort of creative activity replete with love of the world. The image is of “Enoch stitching shoes,” who with every stitch would “achieve mystical unions [yihudim]” (with yihud coming from the word ihud or hithahaduth, unification).152 In his emotional manner, R. Elijah Eliezer Dessler,153 in the name of R. Israel Lipkin Salanter,154 explains the practical significance of this character as the ideal model: […] this midrash cannot possibly mean that while he was sitting and stitching shoes for his customers his mind was engaged on mystical pursuits. This would be forbidden by the din [= Jewish law]. How could he divert his attention to other matters while engaged on work which he had been hired to do by others? No, says Rabbi Yisrael; the “mystical unions” which Hanoch [Enoch] achieved were nothing more nor less than the concentration which he lavished on each and every stitch to ensure that it would be good and strong and that the pair of shoes he was making would be a good pair, giving the maximum pleasure and benefit to whoever would wear them. In this way Hanoch achieved union with the attribute of his Creator, who lavishes his goodness and beneficence on others. This was his “mystical union”; he was united and wholehearted in his desire, his single-minded ambition, to attach himself to his Creator’s attributes. Of course, as a natural consequence he was protected from any hint of evil or wrongdoing. There could be no question of his ever deceiving or over-reaching his customers, even unwittingly. His “taking” would never exceed the value of the work he was doing – the measure of his “giving.”155

151 Buber, “Monist,” pp. 28–30. 152 On the meaning of the term yihud (unification) in Hasidism and the two types of yihudim, the upper and the lower, see Wacks, Secret of Unity. On their meaning as regards the woman’s involvement, see Loewenthal, “Women.” Buber, Garden, pp. 95–96, writes in his discussion of this point that the intent of the term in Hasidism is that “all of man’s desires and passions are to be drawn to a unity that moves toward God, is entirely open to the world, and in its unity sanctifies all in existence.” See Koren, Mystery, pp. 240–41. As regards Enoch the stitcher of shoes, it should be noted (cf. above, n. 146) that the great value of labor is already emphasized in the Bible itself, as is indicated by the Bible’s attributing the same activities to Adam and to God: the preparation of garments, and the giving of names; along with additional literary means detailed by Frisch, Labor of Thy Hands, with a brief summary, p. 135 n. 341. 153 The spiritual supervisor in the Ponevezh yeshivah in Bnei Brak, 1947–1954. 154 Founder of the Mussar movement (1810–1883). 155 Dessler, Strive for Truth!, vol. 1, pp. 123–24.

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This understanding now leads us to indicate a possible chiastic reading of the Biblical Creation passage, one of “from where you come and to where you go” (in the formulation of M Avot 3:1), that is a kind of hidden structure in the passage: the Creation of the world begins with a dialogic appeal by God that calls upon Chaos to separate into its opposing components of light and darkness,156 while the goal of the pinnacle of Creation, man, is to recompose the opposing pairs that were separated, and to join together light-and-darkness into a single whole, in order to return. in dialogic fashion, to the perfection at the basis of the Creation. *** All this, obviously, is accompanied by severe birth pangs, since on his tortuous way throughout human history man frequently forgets this great principle and shuts himself up in his egocentrism. Accordingly, in such instances “masculinity” sinks into its obtuseness, and language and law become “God” – a phenomenon that constantly recurs in all religions.157 At such times, “femininity,” with its untouchable mysteries, shuts itself up against masculinity.158 These dark moments in world history cause the element of Eros to retreat, and then dominion is given to aggressiveness and the seeds of death159 – but, nonetheless, there always remains the daring possibility of returning, again and again, to dialogue and creativity, that, according 156 I expanded above on the possibility of such a reading; see especially at n. 79. 157 On this recurring pattern, that moves between the “revival” periods that burst forth upon the rise of a charismatic leader (such as Buddha, Jesus, the Baal Shem Tov, and many others) and the inevitable descent into mere “routinization,” which arrives, without exception, after one or two generations, see Weber, Essays, pp. 245–52 (although it should be noted that when Weber speaks of the “charismatic leader” from his sociological point of view, he does not necessarily mean a spiritual leader of this type, and so, for Weber, Napoleon, for example, could be considered to be a charismatic leader, too). 158 On this mysteriousness, that is unapproachable by language, for in those moments femininity vanishes into the “watery mist,” see Walker, Woman’s Dictionary, p. 1066. Based on the identification of the feminine with the water symbol, Walker also added a tangible explanation: just as water cannot be held in our hands and slips away from our grasp, so, too, the mysteries of femininity. Cf. Eliade, Sacred and the Profane, p. 131; Campbell, Masks of God, pp. 62–64. 159 Freud offered an analysis of the tension between Eros and Thanatos in his famous article, “Beyond the Pleasure Principle.” See Freud, Standard Edition, vol. 18, pp. 7–64.

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to the Hebrew mythos, are at the heart of Creation.160 These trenchant statements, so I believe, trace their origin to the Biblical approach in the passage that begins the entire Bible, and that views the entire world as contrasts that begin in the Genesis story as two poles – the male and the female – that span the entire act of Creation, and the task of reconciliation, that will lead to the fertility that is rooted in good, is incumbent upon Man (both male and female).161 The decisive fact that the masculine side must constantly recall during these times of regression is that the “holy coupling” with the “formless” opening of the woman’s sexual organ provides an opening to the creativity within it that has divine sanctity, and the birth of meaningful matters without a limited “shelf life,” that rather are for eternity.162

160 Buber correctly connected these two elements – the “originative instinct” and the ability to live with the Other as “thou” when he spoke of the ideal fashioning of the dialogic man. Buber, however, emphasized: “There are two forms, indispensable for the building of true human life, to which the originative instinct, left to itself, does not lead and cannot lead: to sharing in an undertaking and to entering into mutuality” (Buber, “Education,” in Between Man and Man, p. 113. 161 Evil, therefore, is not present in the world as a separate element in itself, but rather is to be found in life situations in which the opposing elements are joined in an erroneous way by means of a violent encounter that is founded on viewing the other as “It.” Consequently, the dialogic man does not intrinsically negate things, but only situations. Cf. Buber: “‘No,’ I answered […] ‘for I still grant to reason a claim that the mystic must deny to it. Beyond this, I lack the mystic’s negation. I can negate convictions but never the slightest actual thing’” (Buber, Pointing the Way, p. 28). 162 And to this we should attribute Eve’s uplifting name giving (Gen. 4:1, following the literal translation by Cassuto): “I have created a man [equally/together] with the Lord.” See Cassuto, Genesis, p. 201; Pardes, Countertraditions in the Bible, pp. 40, 43–45.

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Afterword

Afterword In the long journey that the reader has taken with me in our reading of the Rabbinic sources I set forth one aspect of those texts of the Rabbis: their dialogic understanding of the Bible. At the end of this quest, however, I would like to emphasize the concurrent existence of two strata in the world of the Rabbis: a popular culture, and an elite one. In all my writings I seek to present the possibility of identifying in the Rabbinic culture a spiritual elite stratum that sought dialogue. Accordingly, we can identify two voices in the sources that relate to the life of the study hall that express themselves differently regarding women, and we can now understand why there is no fundamental contradiction between the following findings: on the one hand, Adler showed the existence of sources in the Talmudic literature that maintain that whenever a woman sought to enter the world of Torah (that was ruled exclusively by male scholars) she created chaos.1 On the other hand, however, the sources in the Talmudic literature that I cite in my various works that examine the image of women (and the characteristics of femininity) attest that, in many instances, what in a first reading is deemed to be “chaos” introduced into the masculine study hall is rather the narrator’s reproachful voice, that is directed against the male hierarchy and its chauvinist orientation. This hierarchy had difficulty in accepting the religious assumption that the encounter with the divine cannot take place without the connection between the masculine and the feminine.2

1 See Adler, “Virgin in the Brothel.” 2 To base this claim, see also several additional analyses of works from the Rabbinic literature occupied with this in my other books: Kosman, Men’s World, pp. 41–60; idem, Women’s Tractate, 15–26; 83–93.

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242

Index

Index “a”, Sumerian for sperm and water 156 Aarne, Antti 64 Aaron (Biblical Figure) 168 Aaron ha-Levi of Barcelona 40 Abbahu 97, 116, 146, 183, 184 Abdan 76, 134 Aberbach, Moses 115 Aboab, Isaac 61, 91 Abrabanel, Isaak ben Juda 183 Abraham Min ha-Har 112 Abraham, in the Binding of Isaac 151 Abrams, Daniel 49, 84, 157, 165 Abramson, Shraga 134 Abrham Ibn Ezra 50, 182–183, 208 Absalom, slept with David’s concubines 74 Achilles 149 Act that comes from the heart 22, 43, 54 Active-Passive 61, 82–83, 85, 210 Adam Kadmon, in Lurianic Kabbalah 169 Adams, James Noel 49 Addition to Avot de-Rabbi Nathan 76, 81, 95, 100, 105–107 Adehakhei 115 Aderet, Abraham 63, 62, 73, 81 Aditi, the element of light 206 Adler, Rachel 214 Adoil, beget the light 176 Advertisements, portray of woman 159 Advocate-Client 14–15 Aeschylus 150 Agamemnon 150 Aggada 21, 34 Aggadic Narratives 20 Aggressiveness 10 Aha bar R. Josiah 47 Ahadboi 133–153 Ahituv, Yosef 159, 200–201 Akev 51

Akev-Panim 47 Akev-Ukba-Okev 45 a-ki-til, new year festival in Sumer 160 Akiva 56–108 had Akiva a sharp intellect? 96–97 his beginning 60–62 his thoughts about Kalba Savua’s money 105 passive or active? 61, 85 was he handsome or ugly? 97 Akiva-Akev 91 Akov-Akev 54 Albeck, Chanoch 32, 34, 50, 127–128, 152 Alfiyah, Meir 53 Aliyah, immigration to the Land of Israel 114, 119, 122, 131 Altmann, Alexander 191, 207 Am ha-aretz 101 Ambush 34, 37 Aminoff, Irit 103 Amit, Moshe 163 Ammi 115 Anal Sex, as humiliating act 195 Anal Stage 1, 156 Analogous Means 81 Anat, Baal’s mate in the Ugaritic myth 163 Angel of the Sea, in the Aggada 159 Animals 13 Anus, as dark place connected with creativity 156 Aphrodite 163 Apostolos-Cappadona, Diane 120, 149, 153 Apsu, the fresh water 158–159 Aristophanes 118 Aristotle 197 Arkhas, angel of darkness 176 Armor 136, 141, 153 Arrow, shot into the mouth 160

Index

Art, perceived by contemplation 179 True art is a loving art 210 Artom, Elia Samuele 175 Ashkenazi, Bezalel 108 Ashkenazi, Samuel Jaffe 182 Ashkenazi, Tzvi Hirsch 112–113 Ashlag, Yehudah 190 Askupah 49–50 Assaf, David 204 Assi 23, 26, 109–132 his attraction to his mother 117 his biological father 123 his flight from his mother 120–124, 131 Assi and his mother, Episode of 109–131 as lunatic tale 126 Frankel’s hypothesis on 128 tragicomic ending to 130 transformation of the text of 126–131 Assi-Ammi 115 were called “important kohanim” 128 Assi-Yose exchange 127 Associative Thinking 46 Athenaeus 149 Attendants, of R. Akiva 58, 69, 76, 79, 85 Atum 162 Augustine 183 Avi-Yonah, Michael 127 Avraham Ibn Ezra 173 Ayali, Meir 73 Azazel, taught women to adorn themselves 117 Azikri, Eleazar 127 Azulai, Hayyim Joseph David 52, 73 Baal Shem Tov 199, 210, 212 Babylonia 26 as the maternal side in the Episode of R. Assi 120 Babylonia versus Land of Israel 112–114, 118, 120, 126 Bacher, Binyamin Ze’ev (Wilhelm) 34, 104 Bachya Ibn Pakuda 78 Bahya ben Asher ben Hlava 152 Baitner, Azaria 85

243

Balance, between the heroes in the story 93 Bamberger, Joseph 96 Bar Hedya 48 Bar Kappara 179 Bara, Hebrew root 182–183 Baraita 34 Barkai, Yair 21, 58, 65, 70–71, 73–74, 78, 84 Barn 65, 66, 90 Bartal, Israel 204 Barzel, Hillel 110 Barzeli, Gabi 175, 189 Barzilai, David 27 Baumann, A. 49 Beast 57, 75, 85 Beck, Ulrich 205 Becoming 30 Beer, Moshe 32, 51, 71 Beers, William 159 Being 5–9 Beit Midrash see Study Hall Belkin, Shemuel 39 Ben Azzai, spouse of the daughter of Akiva 90 Ben Kalba Savua 57–58, 60–69, 71–73, 78–79, 92–93 as class-monetary oriented 70–72 “Ben Kalba Savua” or “Kalba Savua,”? 60, 102 his character in later versions 102–105 his inheritance 70 tragic description in old age of 104 Ben Zoma 144 Ben-Ari (Federov), S.Z Yaakov 71 Benedetto Croce 110 Benei Elohim 117 Ben-Israel, Goni 66 Ben-Sasson, Haim Hillel 83 Ben-Tzion, Simhah 60, 68 Ben-Yehuda, Eliezer 50, 179, 204 Berachiah (Amora) 184 Bergmann, Judah 41 Bergmann, Samuel Hugo 16, 17 Beri’ah 183, 184 Beri’ah, U-vereta-U-vare 182 Berman, Emanuel 122 Betrothal 57 Bettelheim, Bruno 122

244

Index

Biale, David 153 Bialik, Hayim Nahman 109–110 Bible, study of the 189 Big Bang Theory 172, 150–151 Bin-Gorion (Berdyczewski), Micha Josef 94, 97, 109 Bin-Gorion, Emanuel 64 Birur, work of inner purification 199 Bitman, Irit 2, 4, 11, 12 Blessing 114 goes together with Sanctity 186–190 Blessings, recited every morning on the creation 160 Blidstein, Gerald Jacob 116 Borch-Jacobsen, Mikkel 123 Boyarin, Daniel 21, 29, 60–62, 81, 89–94, 102, 133, 141, 188–189 Bozrah 127, 128, 130 Brandes, Yehudah 47 Brandon, Samuel George Frederick 153 Braslavi (Braslavsky), Joseph 53 Breast, Breasts 8–9, 26 aggressiveness in uncovering 142–144 amputated, as a symbol of martyrology 152 as “lev”, “heart” 142 as symbol common in the various religions 153 beautiful, aroused people sympathy 149 Church as 147–148 “good” versus “bad” 170 not considered always as Sexually arousing 145 of Sotah, publicly bared 145 versus Vagina 145–146 uncovering, 133–153 uncovering, as an “act of madness” 151 uncovering, as a gesture of giving in the Midrash 150 uncovering, as a spiritual expression 146 uncovering, as an act of entreaty 149–150 uncovering, as anti-male protest 144–146

uncovering, as catharsis 152 uncovering, as provocative rebuke 145 Bride, as spring 156 Brod, Menahem 97 Brothel 48 Brown, Norman W. 156, 170, 206 Brown, Peter 199–200 Bruemmer, Vincent 42 Buber, Martin 11, 15–19, 26, 46, 166, 170–171, 177, 187, 190–193, 200, 206–213 emphasized the active way 208 his comments on the Creation passage 192–193 Buddha 212 Buddhism 26 Budge, E. A. Wallis 162 Building, construction on moist sites 179 Burial in the Land of Israel 115 Burrows, Millar 197 Byrne, Brendan 20 Caleb, son of Jephunneh (Biblical Figure) 103 Campbell, John K. 197 Campbell, Joseph 164, 170, 173, 212 Carcass 137 Care Experience 10 Caro, Joseph 36, 124 Cassuto, Umberto 168, 208, 213 Castration 2–5 Cause and Effect 23 Chaos 156, 159, 168–178, 192–193 answers God’s appeal by giving birth 168–178 as water and darkness 156, 159 within man himself 192–193 woman in the Study Hall, creates 214 Charity 32–36, 43 women’s Charity 33 Cherubim 187 Chevalier, Jean 49, 104, 120, 166 Chiastic Reading 212 Children, 148, 195–196 as “monstrous” 195–196 inauguration of 148

Index

Children’s Tales, in an Oedipal context 122 Chingada, Mexican vulgar term 202 Chodorow, Nancy 4–7, 30 Chovav, Lea 96 Christian Theology 42 Clines, David J. A. 49 Clothes 57, 69, 74–75, 80, 107 and impurity 136–137 colorful cloths, for a married woman 75 representative role of 80 Clytemnestra 150 Coat of Mail 135 Coffin, bringing it to the Land of Israel 115, 129–131 Cohen, Aryeh 89 Cohen, Avinoam 33 Cohen, Beth 150 Cohen, Chaim 172 Cohen, Gabriel Hayyim 189 Conflict 10 Confusing Information, as literary technique 119, 121 Cosmologies, begin with the emergence of light 157 Cosmos, as imposing order 163 Covenant of the Pieces 156 Creation Myths 154–193 and Jewish folkloristic readings 177 Egyptian 162 Genesis presents two 165 Greek 163 in feminine and masculine respect 154–193 Jewish 154 reflect the birth from “womb of chaos” 172–182, 214 Creation 154–214 as a dialogic act 167–177, 191–214 as a fragile act 160 as God’s artistic masterpiece 178–179 as spiritually significant direction 192–193 autoerotic aspect of God’s delights in 162 being partner in the 193

245

Ex Nihilo, How Early it can be? 175 Ex Nihilo or Ex Materia? 171–193 from the deep completed with good 191, 206 in Hindu myth, the world as a fallacious illusion 206 in the image of God and Ex nihilo 176 in medieval Christian mystics, and Ex Nihilo 183 in Midrashim, and their relation to the Dialogic Reading 177–193 of earlier worlds 183 of male and female, egalitarian 207 of man, as partner of God in 193 of the world as “very good” 206 performed by Speech 162 reflects parallelism between the work of man and God 208 significance of, by joining together opposites 208, 213–214 Stoic conception of Cyclical 183 study of, forbidden, to prevent exploration of negative roots 181 Creativity 160–214 and dialogic life 192–193, 208–214 as God’s gift to Man 207–208 enabled by giving form to the “deep” 160 reveals true substantiality that hides within the chaos 179 Criticism 26 Cronus, castrated his father Uranus 163 Crown 52 Cure, prepared from the material that caused it 191 Dähnhardt, Oskar 166 Dan, Joseph 153 Darkness 157, 163, 173, 180–181, 184 as masculine element 163 identified with water 181 is exiling “being” or absence of light? 173 the “womb” of 184 Darkness versus Light 158, 180 Dasberg, Uri 84

246

Index

Dasha 48–49 dasha barraita 48 dasha-dush-dishah 47 Daughter 2–4 Daughter of Ben Kalba Sabua 25–56, 57–108 earned wages and sending half to Akiva 95, 107 as “wife” or “mate” of Akiva? 58 was she beautiful? 94–97 why she did not choose someone of her own class? 99 Daughter of R. Hanina ben Teradion 48 David (Biblical Figure) 73–74 David Kimhi (Radak) 50 David-Menard, Monique 116 Davis, K. 71 Day, as feminine element in Greek myth 163 De Rougemont, Denis 83 Deed, true deed as loving deed 210 Degenerate Children 47 Deluge 160 Delumeau, Jean 200 Demiurge 189, 191 Democritus 197 Demsky, Aaron 47 Denial 122–123 Deontological Orientation 23 Derech Eretz Zutta 147 Derusat ish 48 Desire 7 Dessler, Elijah Eliezer 211 Detective Story (Mystery) 34 Deveithu 39 Devekut, adherence to God 140, 148 versus Impurity 140 Dialogue 5, 11, 14–16, 18–19, 21, 208–209 and Creation as a dialogic act 167–214 between God and the humans 192–193 creative 192–193 difference between sexual mundane act and sanctified act of 205–213 in Midrashim 177–186 in the Rabbinic culture, an elite sought 214

(The) Deipnosophists 149 Díez-Macho, Alejandro 166 Di-Segni, Shmuel Riccardo 117 Dismemberment 157 Divine Presence (Shekhinah) 18, 39, 49, 186–190 Doeg the Edomite 87 Doing 5, 7, 9, 13, 25, 30, 54 Don Juan Type 13–15 Door 48–51, 120 as a feminine symbol in art 120 as symbolizing cryptic secret 120 Door-socket 32, 47, 51 Dramas versus Tranquil Experience 25 Dream 48 Dreyfus, Theodore 16 Driver, Samuel Rolls 203 Dualism, Eastern Dualism 191 Dualistic Conception, is it in the Priestly creation Myth? 185 DuBois, Page 49 Durkheim, Emile 140 Dworkin, Andrea 195–197, 201–205 Dychtwald, Ken 5 Earth versus Heaven 21 Eastern religions 26 Ebner, Ferdinand 190 Eden, Garden of Eden as Womb 157–158 Education 19 Edwards, Catherine 117 Efrati, Moshe 96–97 Ego 11–12, 16, 22 Ehrlich, Arnold Bogumil 174 Eilberg-Schwartz, Howard 47, 153, 159 Ekev-Akev 52 Elbaum, Jacob 60–61, 107 Elderly, has no sex desire? 198 Eleazar ben Pedat 114–115, 124–130, 135 Eleazar ha-Kappar 52 Eliade, Mircea 156, 158, 160–161, 163, 169, 184, 195, 205, 212 Eliezer ben Hyrcanus 60, 95, 100, 144 Eliezer ben Jacob 203 Eliezer ha-Kappar 49 Elijah (Biblical Figure) 73, 106 Elior, Rachel 201

Index

Elitzur, Avshalom C. 194 Eliyahu, Vilna Gaon 116–117 Elqayam, Avraham 210 Elstein, Yoav 96 Elusive Serpent 169 Emanuely, Isaac Moshe 167, 174, 177 Embrace of Unity 17, 23–24 Empathy 86 artistic activity is based on 179 Enki and Ninhursag, 156 Enoch stitching shoes 211 Enuma Elish 158–161 Epstein, Baruch ha-Levi 142 Epstein, Daniel 47 Epstein, Jacob Nahum 114, 128, 134–135 Epstein, Jehiel Michal, Antisexual manifesto 198 Eros 8, 12, 19, 21 and Thanatos 151, 196, 212 as life-force 196 in the Greek myth, represents love and will 163 Eshel, Ben Zion 127 Eternal Thou 17–18, 24, 190 Europa 196 Evans, Dylan 5–7, 116, 123 Evans-Grubbs, Judith 197 Eve, and the original sin 200–201 her name giving 213 Even, Josef 81–82 Even-Shoshan, Avraham 50 Evil inclination, uprooted from the hearts of the Israelites 139 Evil, 109, 185–190, 213 core of the 109 in the creation Myth, according to Knohl 185–190 is not a separate element in itself 213 was not created by God 185–190 Ex materia, 179–184, and Torah as the “matter” from which the world was created 181 in the Rabbinic view, means waters 180–181 one who holds this idea will have to stand in judgment 182 whoever claims that will have his lips “fall silent” 179–184

247

Ex Nihilo, as the foundation of the Torah 182 Exchange Theory 71 Excrement 179 Exodus from Egypt, begins in the middle of the night 157 Exposition versus Emotion 110 External Event versus Inner Event 81–82 External Forms, ritualistic forms of honor 73–83, 110, 134 External versus Internal 123 Exum, J. Cheryl 117 Eyes, as vessel for imparting wisdom 104 Ezra (Kabbalist) 184 Face, showing one’s face 46 Face-Back 51 Face-to-Face 51, 52 face-to-face Meeting 36, 43, 46 face-to-face versus face-back 210 Falk, Jacob Joshua 115 Falling on One’s Face 58, 73 Fano, Menahem Azariah 38 Farhi, Joseph Shabbetai 95–96, 108 Father 1–4, 8 mythic 7 precedes the mother, in the Halakha 117 protects his son from lust 124 Father Figure 120 as a magic shield 124 or Metaphorical Father 125 Feet, Foot, 32–33, 53, 58, 72–73, 85 as a phallic symbol 53 burning 32–33 did Akiva Kiss his mate on her 73, 85 kissed 58, 72 Feldblum, Meyer S. 33 Female 133, 161 characters 133 having the gift of natural creation 161 Female Body, fright caused by man’s looking at 155, 159 Feminine Sexuality 6, 16, 21 Femininity 3–5, 11, 20, 25–26, 29–30,

248

Index

39–42, 48, 53–54, 144, 153–154, 212 “the woman does not exist” 7 Fertility Allusions, in the Bible 153 Filter theory 71 Finkelberg, Margalit 189 Finkelstein, Louis 61, 67 Fly 49 Folkloristic Tales 44 Formless 175, 176 Foucault, Michel 158 Fraenkel, David 127 Fragmentation 17 Frankel, Zacharias 127, 130 Frankfort, Henri 162–163, 167 Freedom, heroes of the Aggadic tales act with 132 Frenkel, Yonah 21, 38, 58, 62, 65, 68, 71, 73, 76–78, 80, 92–93, 110, 132, 134–135 Freud, Sigmund 1–15, 84, 110, 116–117, 122–123, 155, 194, 203, 212 Friedman, Ariela 1 Friedman, Shamma 33–34, 51, 60, 63, 65, 68, 72, 80, 87, 89, 92–94, 108, 134 Frisch, Amos 208–209, 211 Fromm, Erich 9–10, 27, 42, 85–86, 88, 158, 161 Fuchs, Uziel 32 “Fuck”, English vulgarism 202 le-zayen (fuck) in street language Hebrew 204 Furnace see Oven Gaea, the goddess of the Earth 163 Gafni, Isaiah 146 Gamlieli, Devorah Bat-David 201 Gantz, Moshe 84, Gaster, Moses 31, 44, 95, 102, 106–107, 159, 161, 164 Gastfreund, Isaac 58, 72 Gavra, husband 112 Gay, Peter 2 Geb 162 Geertz, Clifford 156 Gelander, Shammai 209 Gellis, Jacob 182 Gemulav, bounties 145

Gevarim-Men-Ligbor-OvercomeGibor-Hero 144 Gheerbrant, Alain 49, 104, 120, 166 Giant, body of a primordial giant 169, 206 Gideon son of Joash (Biblical Figure) 168, 171 Gift 86 in the center of the relationship 85 Gilligan, Carol 10–11 Gilula, Dwora 118 Ginzberg, Louis 34, 117, 127–128, 147, 166, 173, 188, 191 Giving 42, 85, 88, 91 Gluska, Isaac 178 Gnostic Ideas 189 God 45–46, 141, 157–193 and His consort, in early Israel 170, 181 and the Creation 157–193 and the early mythical elements 191 as a “male warrior” 141 as an artist 179 as bachelor, who desires a spiritual match 170 as male clad in armor, setting out to war 153 as nursing 153 calling “He” to him as third-person is anthropomorphic 190 created the human by molding dust 156 does the Bible present a masculine 170 his mother 181 his righteousness 136 in Job, cares for the sea as for an infant 169 requirement from him to possess a phallus 165 God of Israel, with no goddess by His side 169 Goffman, Erving 14, 71 Golan, Ruth 7, 20, 192 Golden Jerusalem, piece of jewelry 62, 65–66 Goldin, Judah 75 Good, God found all that He had made very good 185–186, 190–193, 206

Index

Good Heart, Goodness 20, 30 as mystical union 211 Goodblatt, David 146 Goodison, Lucy 164 Gootfeld, Efrat 75 Gordon, Aaron David 109 Gordon, Peter Eli 144 Goshen-Gottstein, Alon 166, 173, 180–181, 184 Grace 9 Grace after Meals 103, 106 Graves, Robert 156, 161, 163, 165 “Great man in Israel” 68 Great Mother, and the mysteries of the womb 163–164, 212 Greenberg, Benjamin 81 Grudging Eye 3 Guest 3 Guilt 7 Gunkel, Hermann 166 Gynophobia 159 Habad 97 version of the story on Akiva and his mate 92 Habermans, Jorgen 144 HaCohen, Shear-Yashuv 41 Hadad, Mekikitz Yisrael 148 Hair, woman’s chaotic hair flows, to be covered 155 Ha-Kohen, Zadok (Zadok HaKohen Rabinowitz of Lublin) 198–199, 208 Halakhah 18, 52, 109, 110 and relationship with Aggadah 109–110, 132 as a sort of “cover” 110 “four cubits of halakhah” 140 emphasizing its external structure causes inattentiveness 110 of the Messianic era 141 questions that cannot be answered by 121 Halakhic-Religious Garb 118–119 Halbanat Panim, publicly shaming 34–46 Halbertal, Moshe 145 Halevi, Elimelech Epstein 39, 61–62, 75, 78, 102, 117, 124, 144–145, 180, 197

249

Halevi, Judah (Rihal), gave legitimacy to the belief in Ex Materia, 183 Halivni, David 33 Halsha Da’atey, leads to a dramatic turn 137–138, 152 as expression of mental weakness 152 Hama bar Bisa 76 Hamnuna 193 Hana ben Aha 203 Handelman, Susan 189 Handsome Man 112, 118 Hanegraaff, Wouter Jacobus 23 Hanina ben Gamaliel 116 Hardheartedness 104 Harel, Naama 204 Harris, Monford 84 Hasan-Rokem, Galit 152 Hasenfratz, Hans-Peter 163 Hasidism 16 Hauptman, Judith 144 Hazani, Israel 29, 76, 164, 177, 191, 199 Hazelton, Roger 189–190 “He did not create it a waste”, as Legal term in the Halakha 198 Head, the place of wisdom 104 Head of the Study Hall 76, 80 Heart, opening the heart 22, 23, 153 Heart of Stone 139 Heart-Mouth, open-heart versus open mouth 151 Heel 52 and sexual allusion 47–48 and vagina 47 as feminine allusion 51 as humility 52–54 as leitmotiv 45, 47 burnt 45 hidden 46 test 45, 54 treading with the 48 turning the 46 versus face 43 Heidel, Alexander 158 Heinemann, Joseph 164 Heliopolis, theology of 162 Hellinger, Michael 144 Henshke, David 127 Heresy 182

250

Index

Herodotus, narratives of the abduction of famous women 196 Herr, Moshe David 180 Herschberger, Ruth 195–197 Herschler, Moshe 31–32, 37, 41, 56, 60, 66, 75, 106, 108 Herzfeld, Michael 197 Heschel, Abraham Joshua, of Apta 199 Hesed, lovingkindness 191 Hesiod, Creation Myth 163 Hevrony, Ido 49, 120, 129 Hewer of Wood, woodcutter, Akiva, as 60–61 Hibbur Yafe me-ha-Yeshu’ah 78–79, 94, 108 Hierarchy 51, 55 in the Study Hall 29, 76–77, 79, 83, 94 order 20, 87, 90, 94, 144–145 Hill, Philip 15 Hillel 95, 193 Hindu Myths, on transferring the amorphous to the solid 158 Hinge socket 50 Hinshelwood, R. D. 170 Hirshberg, Zeev 79, 108 Hirshman, Marc 55 Hisda 51, 140 his advice to his daughters 145 History of Famous Women (Chinese textbook) 64 Hiyya bar Ammi 140 Hizkuni 182 Hocart, A. M. 169 Holtz, Avraham 83 Holy Coupling 166, 170, 208–214 Holy Dimension 139, 140–141 Homeopathy 191 Homeostasis 13 Homer 149 Homosexuality, prohibition, protecting men’s status 195 Honesty 16 Honor, external honor 73–83, 86, 110, 134 Honoring One’s Parents 112, 116 versus Torah study 127 versus the prohibition to leave the Land of Israel 113, 115, 119, 121 Horney, Karen 3

Horwitz, Rivka 17, 190 Hoshen, Dalia 198 House 40 House-Wife 39, 42 Hovering, 166, 185 God, over the waters against Satan 166 Ruach Elohim over the waters 166, 185 Humiliation 72 Humility 10, 17–18, 20–24, 30, 42–46, 52–54, 57, 78 God’s Humility 22, 52 Huna 32, 179, 207 burial of 129 Huna bar Bizna 34 Husband-Wife Relationship 59 Hutz la-aretz, place of nations, impurity 125, 128–129 Hyman, Aaron 32, 37, 60, 73, 98, 112, 127, 138, 148 Hypereides 149 Hyrcanus 61 Hysteria 116 in psychoanalysis 116 women and 25, 160 Id 11 Idel, Moshe 199 Ideology 25 Idra Zuta 165 Iggeret Rav Sherira Gaon 32 I-It 15, 46, 196, 213 Ila, who perverted the ways of his mother 134–138, 145 Ila-Ulla 134 Ilan, Tal 60, 65, 89 Iliad 149 Ilpirra tribe 156 Ima 112 ima zekenah, aged mother 112 Image, of religious importance 51 Imago Dei 176–177, 188, 190, 198, 207–209 Impurity, inner impurity versus legal impurity 141 Inattentiveness (Obtuseness, Blindness) 16, 18, 23, 35, 38, 42, 44, 72, 87, 88, 93, 110 inauguration 148

Index

Incest 112–113, 116, 119, 120–123 Individual Law (Individual Rule) 7, 18 Individual versus Community 193 “Do not withdraw from the community” 193 Maimonides view, the public takes precedence 193 Indo-European myths 169 Infant 144–145, 148 as primal mental state 148 suckling infant who have not been weaned 144–145 Inferiority 4 Infinite 6, 9, 16, 20, 25 Infinite Features, nine categories 21–24 Inguimbertine Library 189 Inner Homeland 124 Inner Miracle 18 Inner Motherland 122–123 Inner versus Outer 14, 24, 38, 53–54, 73–88, 93, 93–94, 97, 109–110, 120, 125, 134, 141 Innovation, as an attack on the norm 161 Inside the World Asceticism 22 Insight, Inner Vision 27 Insult 39, 42–44, 137–138 Internalization 24 Intertextual Allusions 89 Io 196 Ions, Veronica 206 Iranius 201 Irigaray, Luce 155 Irony, as a fundamental Aggadic quality 121 at a certain mechanism of self-delusion 110 in the design of the Episode of R. Assi and his mother 121–122 Isaac (Amora) 22 Isaac ben Eleazar (Amora) 52 Isaac ha-Zaken 112 Ishmael ben R. Yose (Tanna) 134 Ishto ke-gufo, man’s wife is considered as part of his body 41 Isis, mate of Osiris 162 I-Thou 16–18, 21–24, 46, 177, 190–193, 208–209, 213 three spheres, in which arises 177

251

Itrach 128–129 Aramaic, “he waited”, or a command: “Wait!” 113–114 Iwersen, Julia, 157 Jacob (Biblical Figure) 124 and Rachel, Biblical narrative 89 James, Edwin Oliver 163 Jealousy (Envy) 3, 9, 53 Jensen, Robert 200 Jerome (Church Father) 199 Jesus 212 in painting of the Last Judgment 150 portrayed as impotent 165 Jewish Education, attitude to Romantic Love 83 Job, Book of Job 168–169 Johanan ben Nappaha 34, 48, 97, 113–115, 120–121, 124–134, 139, 184 Johanan’s House 120 Joking, in the Study Hall 137 Joseph and the wife of Potiphar 121, 124 Joseph Kara 50 Josephus, Titus Flavius 188 Joshel, Sandra R. 195 Joshua ben Hananya (Tanna) 95 Judah (Biblical Figure) 38 Judah bar Simon (Amora) 48 Judah Minz 36–37 Judah bar Ilai (Tanna) 142, 145–146, 207 Judah the patriarch (Judah ha-Nasi) 49, 116 Jung, Carl Gustav 183 Juno Lucina, creator of the fetus and imparting light 157 Justice 3 Kafri 32 Kagan, Zipora 109–110 Kalba Savua, historical viewpoint 102 Kalmin, Richard Lee 33, 87 Kaminka, Armand 60, 61, 67 Kasher, Menahem 29 Kasher, Shimon 171–172, 183 Katz, Jacob 83

252

Index

Katz, Menachem 45, 53 Kaufmann, Yehezkel, 184–185 Keisar, Tzemah 50, 114 Keli, means item 203 as man’s apparel 203 as modern Hebrew slang for penis 204 Kemmer, Yaffa 62, 68 Kepnes, Steven 27 Kerkoff, A. 71 Keys, Maftehot 50 Kiel, Yehuda 74, 187 Kierkegaard, Søren Aabye 14 Kimelman, Reuven Ronald 113, 123 Kindness 37 Kircher, Athanasius 183 Kiss, Kissing 104, 139 as metaphor, in the Midrash 139 of God’s mouth 139 of the Torah, purifying role of 139 the head, the mouth, the eyes 104 Kister, Menahem 147 Klapisch-Zuber, Christiane 142 Klein, Jacob 159–161, 167 Klein, Jean 9, 14, 16, 17–18 Klein, Melanie 8, 124, 170 Kenesset Israel, the Israelite nation 147 Knohl, Israel 165 against Kaufmann’s reading in the creation myth 185 Koenig, Rene 144 Kohen, Yosef 183 Kohut, Alexander 51 Koidonover, Zevi Hirsch 159 Kolitz, Chaim 60 Komlos, Otto 166 Kook, Abraham Isaac 36, 84 Korban, Hebrew for sacrifice 84 Korban-Kirvah 85 Koren, Israel 187, 208, 210–211 Korman, Abraham 51 Kos 50–51 Kosman, Admiel 7, 16, 19, 20, 22–23, 52, 54, 80, 88, 98, 104, 139, 141–142, 144, 148, 153, 165, 192, 198, 202, 205, 208, 214 Krauss, Samuel 32, 47, 49–51, 71, 179 Krochmal, Nachman 32 Kuhn, Herbert 156

Kuryluk, Ewa 156 Kushelevsky, Rella 95 Kutscher, Edward Yechezkel 47, 134 Labor 208–211 as intimate contact with the material 208–211 as punishment, using alienated material 208–209 Lacan, Jacques 5–9, 14, 15–16, 21, 110, 116–117, 123, 164, 192 Lachs, Samuel Tobias 41 Land of Israel 26 as center, versus Babylonia as periphery 122–126 as mother’s bosom, versus Babylonia as Gentile woman’s bosom 124, 130 is it permitted to leave? 113, 118 to leave in order to greet your mother 113–131 Landau, Ezekiel 115 Langdon, S. 160 Language 14–15, 18, 21, 117–118 Laplanche, Jean 5, 116, 123 Law 117, 120, 131 as masculine, restricts the uncontrolled woman 158 becomes “God” 212 Law of the Father 1, 6–7, 9, 19, 26 Lee, Jonathan Scott 123 Lehmann, Marcus 60–61, 70, 89, 100–102, 104 Leibowitz, Nechama 38 Leon, Udi 21, 58, 65, 70–71, 73–74, 78, 84 Lerner, Myron Bialik 39 Lev, Hebrew for heart 54, 145 Lev Kenaan, Vered 195–196 Levi ben Gershon (Gersonides) 50 Levi (Amora) 103 Leviathan 169 Levinas, Emmanuel 47, 190 Levine Katz, Yael 39, 87, 99 Levinson, Joshua 117 Levi-Strauss, Claude 6 Lewin, B. M. 47 (The) Libation Bearers 150 Liberson, Yosef 149 Licentiousness 100

Index

Licht, Jacob 54, 141 Liddell, Henry George 163 Lieberman, Saul 22, 46, 75, 145, 189 Liebes, Yehuda 53, 148, 162, 165, 170 Life-Principle, in the Rig Veda 205 Lifshitz, David 38 Light 157, 163, 166, 173, 184 as masculine element in the Greek myth 163 as sword 157 in the Creation 157 three ways for understanding the creation of 184 versus darkness 166, 173 Lincoln, Bruce 169 Lips 179 Lipshitz, Abe 183 Living Widowhood 74 Livy (Titus Livius Patavinus), on the beginnings of the Roman people with acts of rape 196 Loewald, Hans 13 Loewenthal, Naftali 211 Lorand, Ruth 7 Lorberbaum, Yair 207 Love 16, 19, 83–88, 93–94, 97, 210 conception of 56 in Sociology, definition of 71 of Akiva and his Mate 63 to one’s fellow as God’s command 190 Luria, David 48 Lurianic Kabbalah, on Eve’s guilt in the original Sin 201 Lydda 61 Ma’akav, Hebrew for pursuit 37 Ma’aseh Book 72, 80, 106–107 Mack, Hananel 49 Madness 112–113, 118, 142, 146, 151 Maggid 124 Maglasiya 50 Maharsha (Samuel Eliezer Edels) 66, 114, 130–131 Maimon, Dov 193 Maimon, Solomon 53 Maimonides 35, 38, 193 on Eve’s guilt in the original Sin 201 on sex 197–198

253

Makor, Biblical Hebrew for water and womb 156 Malachi, Zvi 83 Male, as sterile, produces with his thought 161 Male Mouth, versus female breast 139–142, 152–153 Malul, Meir 45, 53 Man, as dialogic entity 177 Mannoni, Maud 5–6 Mar (appellation) 32, 51 for the descendants from the Davidic line 51 Mar Ukba 20, 25, 29–46, 51–55 and his wife 29–31 his greatness 38 “to make oneself Mar Ukba” 51 was he Exilarch? 32 Mar Zutra bar Tobiah 33 Marcus, Ivan G. 148 Marduk 159–161 created the world with his speaking 167 killing Tiamat, as symbolic act of penetration 160 killing Tiamat, creates the world from her body 158–159, 167–169, 178, 194–198, 204 his creative ability and his being the king of the gods, linkage 161 Margalioth, Mordecai 32, 38, 112, 114, 125 Margolin, Ron 22, 24, 78 Margoliot, Moses 127 Margaliot, Reuben 38–39, 51, 112, 125 Marriage 14 abduction marriage 97, 196 as filth 200 proposal, definition in Sociology 71 rejection, in Christianity 200 women in, as sexually or aesthetically alluring 75 Married woman, loses her sexual desire? 113 Marx, Dalia 155, 157, 160 Mary, baring her breasts to obtain mercy for sinners 150 Masculine 21, 25–26, 29–30, 39–42, 48, 51, 54, 141

254

Index

Masculine (Culture) versus Feminine (Nature) 158, 161, 205–206 Masculine-Feminine Relationship 167–185 Masculinity 4, 7, 11, 13, 20, 144, 153–154 and feeling guilt for having vulgar structure 197–213 and prohibiting men from primping 203 and toying with instruments of killing 203 as controlling one’s urges, to direct himself to the Torah 144 Maskil 100 Masochism 37 Masters in Yavneh 70 Masturbation, as an act of Creation 162 Matan ba-seter (“giving in secret”) 35, 41, 54 Material versus Spirit 39 Maternal emotion 149 Maternal Thinking 10 Mattana (Amora) 146 Maybaum, Ignaz 84 Mayim Me’arerim (the water of bitterness) 145 Mazor, Lea. 169 Measure for Measure 23 Meat, expressions taken from, transferred into sexual field 204 Medea 196 Meeting 22 Meir (Tanna) 125, 49, 116 Mekatzetz ba-netioth (alienated from God) 152 Menahem ha-Meiri 37, 41 Menahem Mendel of Shklov 55 Menstruation, as “leaking” body 155, 201 as filth of the Sitra Ahra 159 as impurity accompanied by demonic aspects 159 Merchavia, Chenmelech 189 Meshagesh (disturbing) 134 Metzalei-Tzel 32 Metzora (someone suffering from a skin disease) 134–135, 140 cured of his affliction, examined by the priest 136

Microcosmos versus Macrocosmos 23 Midrash, based on intertextual technique 188–189 creative, freedom of the Rabbis 188–189 Milk and honey 148 Mills, Jane 195, 203 Mimekor Yisrael 94 “Mine and yours are hers” 58, 79, 85–88, 91, 93 original meaning of the saying 77 Minz, Judah 36 Miracle 24, 33, 42–43, 52 as reward for performance of a commandment 44 inner 53 Miriam bat Tanhum, and her seven sons 150–152 Mirkin, Moshe Aryeh 144 Misogyny 200–201 Mist, watery mist 212 Misunderstanding, in the discussion of R. Johanan and R. Assi 114 Mitzrayim (Egypt), as metaphor for birth canal 157 Mitzrayim (Egypt)-Tzar (Narrow) 157 Modern Orthodoxy 96 Monks, avoiding speaking with Women 200 Monotheism 158, 192–193 dualist approach versus Jewish 192–193 quashed the existence of the primal goddess 158 Monotheistic Concept 16 Montefiore, Claude Goldsmid 41 Moon 184 Moral Conscience 3 Moses (Biblical Figure) 139 spirit of divine inspiration possessed by 147 Moses and Aaron, 147 as women with breasts who nurse the Rabbis 147 equal in knowledge of the Torah 147 Moses ha-Darshan 124 Moses of Kobrin 133 Mother 1–4, 7–8, 12, 26 and Hysteria 116

Index

and love to her Son 116–117 and son, relationships 116, 119 archetype, in Jungian perspective 122 depicted in the Talmud as close to insanity 142 her body 26 in the life of the infant, according to the Jungian school 170 mother-matter 21, 39 versus father 110, 123–126, 129, 131 Motherhood 10 Mother of R. Ahadboi 33, 133–153 was she R. Sheshet’s wet nurse? 138 Mother of R. Assi 110–132 Mother of the Biblical God 181 Motherland 124 Mouth 142 speaks words of wisdom 104 versus breast 139 Movement, in the narrative 81–83 Mualem, Shlomy 15 Mualem, Zahava 137–138 Much or Little, are the same, provided one directs his mind to Heaven 70 Muffs, Yochanan 36, 46, 53, 167, 189 Mummu, means both womb and creator 159 Murdoch, Iris 10 Murstein, Bernard 71 Muteness 138, 142, 152 Myerowitz Levine, Molly 58 Mystic’s Negation 213 Mystical Divine Unity 16 Myth, as a mirror to masculine-feminine relationship 156 Na’al (Shoe), feminine associations 50 Nacht, Jacob 47–50, 53, 120, 181, 195 Nahman 207 Nahmanides (Moses ben Nahman) 124, 136, 171 on Sex 198 Nakedness 74 Name, 25, 45, 125 addressing Rabbi by his 125

255

addressing student by his 125 calling a person by his father’s name, “son of X” 125 of the Hero 25, 45 Nameless 52 Narcissistic Energy 13 Nathan ben Jehiel 32, 45, 47, 49–50, 127 Nathan de-Zuzita 32 Nationalistic spirit 101 Nature, technological mastery of nature 205–206 Neck-Face 43 Nedava, Joseph 67, 97 Negative Theophanies 161 Nehemiah (Tanna) 139 Nekhbet, worshiped as a form of the primeval abyss 163 Nephthys, mate of Set 162 Neshikah-Meshik-Shokek-ke-Mashak 139 Neumann, Erich 155, 163, 170 Neusner, Jacob 32 Niehoff, Maren 46 Nietzsche, Friedrich Wilhelm 110 Nigal, Gedalyah 34 Night, as the beginning of the day 157 as feminine element in the Greek creation myth 163 Night and Day 157, 163, 184 Aggadic myth of the moon and the sun 184 Nissim (Rabbenu Nissim) 78–79, 94, 108 Nonviolent Communication 19 Nothingness 182 Novella 67 Noy, Dov 29, 44, 167–168, 178 Nursing, until when? 151 Nut 162–162 O’Neill, John 157, 206 O’Neill, John Cochrane 175 Oath 95 Object Petit a 16 Oedipal Conflict 1–3, 122–123 Olal (Infant) 145, 148 Old Age, and witlessness or madness 112, 126

256

Index

Old Man, in the story on Akiva and his mate 57, 68, 74, 79, 85 his character 106 his identification as prophet Elijah 73, 106 turned to be an “old woman” 106 Old Woman, amorous, as a humoristic element 117 Opposites, significance of Creation in joining together opposites 208, 213–214 Oral Block 152 Oral Law 142 Oral Stage 1 Ordeal 46 Orenstein, Avraham 115, 130 Orestes 150 Orgasm 13 multiple orgasm 6 Original sin, in Christian and Jewish sources 200–201 Ornaments 112, 126 as causes destruction 117 for married woman 117 Orr, William F. 20 Ortner, Sherry B. 158 Oseh Pele 95, 106–108 Osiris 162 “Other” 5, 18, 21–25, 30, 42, 80, 208–209, 213 Outside the World Asceticism 22 Oven (furnace) 32, 43 as womb 49 entering an 49 expresses doubt, “cooking” in the depths 49, 52 jumping into 34, 38, 42–44, 49, 55 Pagels, Elaine 157–158, 181, 201 Palace, in a place of garbage 179–180 Panim (Face) 46 “Panim ve-Panim” (Face to Face), Buber’s interpretation 210 Pants, women may not wear 202–203 Pappos ben Judah 49 Papus, as a friend of Kalba Savua 100 Pardes, Ilana 124, 213 Parody 35

Paronomasia 135 Patai, Raphael 156, 161, 163, 165 Paul 20–21 Paz, Octavio 202 Pedaya, Haviva 124, 164 Pendulum Movement, in the narrative 82–83, 87 Penis 1–8 as a knife 195 Penis Envy 3 Perry, Menahem 85 Persecuted versus Pursuer 37 Persona 14 Perutah 35 Petah-Delet-Vagina 49 Phallic Energy 13 Phallic Expansion 21 Phallic Pleasure 5, 12–16 Phallic Sexuality 6 Phallic Stage 1–2 Phallicism 11, 20–21 Phallus 3, 5–7, 9, 25 as center for powers of all the supernal organs 165 as a weapon 203 as sword 202, 204 exposing phallus as an aggressive act 203 penetrates the feminine Chaos for making order 155, 164, 202 Pharaoh (Biblical Figure) 168 Philo 3, 39, 78, 175, 188 Philosopher, conversation with Rabban Gamaliel 178–180, 188–191 Philosophy, true philosophy is a loving one 210 Phinehas ha-Levi 40 Phryne, the courtesan 149 Physical Strength 141 Pictorial-Linguistic associations 45 Piekarz, Mendel 199 Pindar 180 Pipe-hole 48 Piron, Mordechai 182 Pit, symbolize both graves and vagina 164 Plato 38, 189–191 on God as desires to create the best possible world 189–191 Platonic concept, of the world of Ideas

Index

preceded the material world 176 Platonic versus Dionysian 109–110 Pointon, Marcia 144 Pontalis, Jean Bertrand 5, 116, 123 Poor Neighbour (Pauper) 31–39, 42–46, 49–54 Poor Person 36, 38 Popular Culture, entails apprehension of the Chaos 164 Pornographic Movies 202 Posen, Rafael Binyamin 80 Potah 50 Poth-Pothhen 50 Potiphar’s Wife (Biblical Figure) 50 Poverty, in learning the Torah 148 Power, transferred after a bloody Fight 163–164 Prayer 138, 142, 152 as a supplicant 153 gates of prayer were not closed to women 152 Priam and Hecuba, Hector’s parents 149 Pride 180 Priest, vestments of 188 Priestly Creation Myth, 155–156, 165–191 differs from the pagans’ in two features 169 as revolutionary 167 provides basis for the Israelite Sabbath 190 reflects the birth from “womb of chaos” 155–156, 165–191 Priestly School, dating of 165 Prostitute, rejected a pupil of R. Akiva 199 Pseudo-Jonathan 74 Psychoanalysis 11 Ptah 167 Punch Line 85 Pure-Impure, as central distinction in religious life 140 Quintilian 149 Quispel, Gilles 170 Qumran Sect, emphasises purity of the spirit over the purity of the flesh 141

257

Rab 34, 50 Rabad (Abraham ben David of Posquieres) 113, 131 Rabba 133, 135, 147, 152 Rabban Gamaliel, his conversation with the Philosopher 178–180, 188–191 Rabbenu Tam 71 Rabbinic Culture, spiritual elite stratum that sought dialogue 214 Rabbinic Literature, as continuation of the Biblical myth 154, 214 Rabbinovicz, Raphael Nathan Nata 134 Rabbis (Khazal) 21, 28, 59, 62, 84, 180, 189, 109–110, 116, 133, 139, 147, 153, 188–189, 214 against Pauline ideas 21 and Aggadic critique of the 28, 109–110 and romantic love 59, 84 as olalim 153 hate of the 62 in the study hall, represent dimension of sanctity 139 nursed by Moses and Aaron 147 their awareness of the simple meaning of Scripture 188 their conversations with Romans 180 their dialogic understanding of the Bible 214 their frankness on sexual topics 116 their struggle against Gnostics, Christians and pagans 189 their Study Hall, composed solely of male scholars 133 Rabbis (Middle Ages), against teaching the Bible to the masses 189 Rachel (Biblical Figure) 124 Rachel, means ewe in Hebrew 89 Rachel, is it the name of Akiva’s Mate? 60, 89–91 Rachman, Yosefa 159 Racism, closely linked to sexuality 205 Rape, raping a woman 195–197 and the glorified rapist motif in ancient histories 195–197 as motif, a man forcibly takes a wife by 195–197

258

Index

as murder, or “taking of woman’s soul” by 197 Rashash (Samuel Strashun) 120–121, 131 Rashi (Shlomo Yitzhaki) 33, 47–51, 74–75, 114, 121, 136–138, 142, 145 Ravitzky, Aviezer 193 Raz, Simcha 61, 96–99 Reality Principle 12 Real versus Symbolic 164, 192 Red Sea, 157 as blood 157 and the crossing by the Israelites 157 and the original Biblical Hebrew Yam Suf 157 Regev, Eyal 141 Rehumi (Talmudic Figure) 21 Reign of the Phallus 9 Reischer, Jacob 131 Religion versus Religiosity 19 Remote Supervision 10 Repetition, three times, as childish effect 112 Repression 7, 11–12, 116 of emotions 121 Resh Lakish (Simeon ben Lakish, Amora) 47–48, 134, 184 his meeting with R. Johanan in the Jordan River 141 Return of the Repressed 124 Revelation 52 Rich, Adrienne Cecile 5 Rig Veda 156 some resemblance to the Jewish Creation myth 205 “Righteous man knows the soul of his beast” 57, 75, 80–81, 107–108 Righteous Person 57 Ringgren, Helmer 166 Ritba (Yom Tov ben Abraham Ishbili) 36–37 Rofe, Alexander 165 Roheim, Geza 156 Romance, definition 66 Romantic Love 59–60, 63–67, 83–85, 89–90, 94–102, 105 absent from the Rabbinic sources 86 and Jewish education 83

as selfish 88 definition 65 Romantic Love Story 83 Rosenberg, Marshall 19 Rosenson, Yisrael 45 Rosenthal, David 113 Rosen-Zvi, Ishay 152 Rotenberg, Mordechai 24, 205 Rouse, Edward Clive 150 Routinization 212 Rovetzet (Crouching), for a beast 166 Rovner, Jay 112, 115, 121, 125, 129–131 Ruach Elohim 166 Rubenstein, Jeffrey 34 Rubin, Jeffrey 36 Rubin, Nissan 73, 80 Ruddick, Sara 10, 52 Ruether, Rosemary Radford 20 Rushin, Irit 5 Sabbath, 285–189, 207 and Halakhah, did not prohibit sex on Sabbath 207 and Sanctity, end of the Creation passage 185–193, 207 as a day of perfection and harmony 207 as passive element, but not contradict creativity 207 Sacrifice 150–151 Sadism, against women, as part of the act of intercourse 195–213 Safrai, Chana 133 Safrai, Samuel 63, 67, 60–62 Salanter, Israel Lipkin 211 Samuel (Amora) 50, 207 Samuel the Son of R. Isaac (Amora) 127 Sanhedrin, as eyes of the congregation 104 Sarah, suckled Isaac in public view 145 Sarfatti, Gad Ben Ami 136 Sartori, Paul 50 Satlow, Michael L. 47, 59, 75, 84, 86 Savoraim 33–34 Savoraitic Redaction 33 “Saying”, in Biblical Hebrew 171 does it refers to God’s will? 171 means also reaching a conclusion 171 Schalit A. 188

Index

Schatzkes, Moses Aaron 66, 148 Schechter, Solomon 60 Schechter, Yoseph 10 Schechterman, Deborah 200–201 Schiffman, Lawrence H. 141 Schiller, Friedrich 179 Schnabel, Eckhard J. 181 Scholarly Version, of the story of Akiva and his mate 95, 101–102 Scholem, Gershom 53, 193 School 19 School of Hillel 52 Schopenhauer, Arthur 206 Schremer, Adiel 200 Schultze-Gallera (Aigremont), Siegmar von 50 Schussman, Aviva 48 Schwarzbaum, Haim 64 Schweid, Eliezer 209 Science, True science is a loving science 210 Sea, rebellious sea 168 Sea-monster 159, 169, 182 Seeing versus Blindness, as leitmotiv 72 Seeing versus Hearing 78 Seeligmann, Isaac Leo 78, 81 Sefer ha-Hinukh 40, 202, 203 Sefer ha-Ma’asiyot 95–96, 102–104, 106 Sefer Hasidim 3, 51 Segal, Hanna 8 Segal, Yocheved 72, 95–97 Self-abnegation 91 Self-adornment, married woman’s adorning herself, as a norm 75 not adorning as a sign for stopping sexual relations 75 regarding Menstruant woman 75 Self-Image 13, 44, 54 Selfishness, Egocentrism 30, 39, 212 Self-Sacrifice 25, 43, 44–55, 74, 77, 86–88, 91–92, 94 Semen, renders a person impurity 136 Sermon on the Mount 41 Serpent, seen in a dream 138 Twisting Serpent 169 Set 162 Sex, 116, 156, 170, 194–213 and desires, are to be drawn to a unity 211

259 and frankness of the Rabbis regarding sexual topics 116 and Halakhah, did not prohibit sex on Sabbath 207 and Holy Coupling 166 and Holy Coupling in Hindu myth in the Rig Veda 170 and Holy Coupling in the Biblical text 170 and humiliation, in the sexual act 194–213 and Marduk-Tiamat Fight, symbolizes male conquer of woman 194–196 and sadistic elements 195–213 and the rabbinic antisexual manifesto 198–199 and “to drink the vagina” as euphemism 156 and woman, attracted to the sexual relationship 196 and woman, feels as being used as an object 195–213 and woman, humiliated in 194–213 as an epileptic madness 197 as attraction of men to women because they are “dirty” 201–202 as conquering masculine act against the chaotic feminine 194–213 as “ownership” over the woman 196 as dialogic act 194–213 as disgusting, creating misogyny 200 as disgusting, in Judaism and Christianity 199 as inter-vaginal masturbation 196 as mundane act versus sanctified dialogic act 205–213 as need to “dirty” the other 201–202 as the crudest expression of the interpersonal sphere 200 as chauvinistic archetype 165 as splitting, in street language 194–196 as two possibilities of 170 does martyr’s death expunges the “dirt of marriage”? 200

260

Index

expressions taken from the field of meat transferred into sexual 204 for scholars, to perform on Friday night 207 hate of 199 identification of drinking with 156 Sextus Empiricus 149 Sexual attraction 59 Sexual Energy 13 Shaddai, divine name, connected to shadayim (breasts) 153 Shahar, Shulamith 160 Shame 34–35 Shaming another person 36–37, 44 Shapira, Avraham 15, 209 Sharpe, Eric J. 160 Shazal, Ben Yehudah 95–96, 98–100 Shekhinah (Divine Presence) 18, 39, 49, 186–190 and identification with manifestation of Divine grace 187–190 as a Kabbalistic vaginal image 49 Shelom bayit 84 Shemesh, Yael 156, 196 Shepherd 57, 60–61, 63, 65, 71 his inferior standing in Society 71 Modest Shepherd as Mesopotamian topos 72 Shepherd-ewe relationship 89–90 Sherira Gaon 51 Sheshet (Amora) 133–153 and his character, as “hard as iron” 152 was blind 138 Shifrah, S. 159–161, 167 Shin’an, Avigdor 34, 37 Shoes 50, 211 and feminine Associations 50 Shu 162 Shulvass, Moshe Avigdor 83 Shvantz, in Yiddish, also refers to the Penis 204 Sight (“Seeing”) 16, 26, 38, 65, 68, 77–81, 84–93 mentioned seven times in the Priestly Creation myth 209 seeing “without eyes” 78 Silent versus Screaming 142 Silman, Yohanan 23 Simeon bar Nahman (Amora) 203

Simeon ben Yohai (Tanna) 34 Simeon ben Zemah Duran 160 Simeon the Pious 34 Simon Magus 157–158 Simon, Uriel 166, 207 Simple Person 20 Simplicity 42–43, 53–54 Sinai 139 Singer, Irving 42 Sinzheim, Joseph David 130 Skulski S. 96–97 Slipper 52 Smith S. H. 45 Social conscience 3 Socrates, was dangerous to the public according to Maimonides 193 Sofer, Abraham Reuben Hoeshke haKohen 53 Sokoloff, Michael 47, 50, 65, 85, 134, 145, 179 Son 1–7 Song of Songs, as a dialogue between Israel and God 189 Son-God-Father Relationship 24 Sophia 181 Sorcery, women as sorcerers 160 Sotah, her breast are publicly bared 54, 145 Speiser, E. A. 159–161 Sperber, Alexander 50 Sperber, Daniel 36, 147, 164 Spiegel, Yaakov S. 73 Spindle, weaving on a 64 Spinoza, Buber’s arguments against 207 Spirit of God 166 Spiritual Love 59, 87, 85 definition 85 spreads in circles, from individuals to the collective 88 Spirituality 20–23, 26–30, 35, 38–41, 44, 52, 69, 77–83, 93–94 and spiritual maturation 192–193 Springtime 98 Stability versus Mobility 81–84, 87 Stahl, Abraham 145, 53, 75, 83, 117, 148, 151, 159, 194–195 Stammaim (Stammaitic Stratum) 33–34, 37, 44, 55 Stammaitic Period 33

Index

Statement, in reference to thought, in the Bible 171 Steinsaltz (Even-Yisrael), Adin 32, 113, 115 Stern, Dinah 49, 122 Street Language, 194–196, 202–203 and male erotic vocabulary, composed of military terms 203 describes the penetration as splitting 194–196 reveals what culture conceals 202 Study Hall (Beit Midrash) 21, 26, 32, 43, 55, 57, 78, 84–85, 90–95, 118, 133, 140–142, 145–146, 153 as sacred place, replaced the Temple 140 as sanctum sanctorum 146 refers to a certain architectural structure? 146 Sublimation 3, 13 Substantia humana versus Substantia rerum 208 Subversive Component, in the Talmud 54 Suckling 26, 147–148, 151 Suliyah 22 Sun 184 born each day from the primeval waters 162 hidden as a fetus within the waters 206 Superego 2 Superiority and Inferiority 51–54 Suzuki, Shunryu 147 Swarming Thing 136–137, 141 renders a person impurity 136–137 Sydie, Rosalind Ann 158 Symbolic System 6 Symptom 124 Tabernacle, 187–193 and the vessels of the 188 as testimony for Israel 188 Creation myth parallels the construction of the 187–193 Moses finished setting up the 188 represents the manifestation of God’s Presence in the world 187–193 represents the universe 188

261

Taboo 12 Tadmor, Yeshayahu 10 Taking, never should exceed the giving 211 Talleyrand, Charles-Maurice de 15 Talmid Hakham (Pupil-Sage) versus Hakham (Sage) 147 Talmud Study, as primary 189 Talmudic Humor 38 Talmudic Literature, as subversive corpus 30 Talmudic Text, copied and moved (Haavara) 33 Tamar (Biblical Figure) 34–38 Tarfon (Tanna) 116 Targum Onkelos 202–203 Tartarus 163 Ta-Shma, Israel Moshe 40, 51 Tautologic Position 23 Tefnut 162 Tehom (deep) 159, 166–193 and fear lest it envelops the entire world 164 and the picture of primordial waters 164 as female creature 159 as feminine form in Hebrew 166 as the primordial waters 172 as transformation of the Babylonian Tiamat 166–168 God speaks to the 168–193 its relationship to Tohu vavohu (unformed and void) 172 the structure of the 174 Tension versus Denouement 85 Territory, conquest of new, as a repetition of the Creation 165, 178, 205 Tetragrammaton 147 used to save the world from flooding 164 Thanatos 8, 12 Theodicy 185–186 Theodor, Julius 124 Thirty-six Tzaddikim 24, 53 Thompson, Stith 64, 155, 166 Thornton, Bruce S. 116 Thou, the text as “Thou” 27 Threshold, as feminine symbol 48 Tiamat, the primordial sea whose waters are salty 158–159, 161

262

Index

as the “Mother” 159 as typically feminine 160 Tiflut (Vanity or Licentiousness) 144 Tikkun Olam (Mending the World) 210 Tiron, in the world of the Zen masters 147 Tishby, Isaiah 39, 173 Tohu vavohu (Unformed and Void) 159, 166, 173–175, 178–185, 191–193, 209 Tolerance 19 Torah 25, 38, 41, 78–79, 139, 181 as “breasts” 146–148 as feminine, and in relation to erotic images 181 as “primordial matter”, preceded the creation of the world 181 as the “matter” from which the world was created 181 first received by Moses by “suckling” from God 148 kissing as giving the 139, 148 love of the 78–79 Torah scholars 101, 147 as arrogant 101 as initial state of suckling infant 147 and the seclusive policy of the sages 101 hatred against them 101 pride of 51 Torah Study 29, 61–64, 70–73, 89–93, 100, 144, 152 as a gift 63, 66–67, 85–86 as a spiritual symbol 85–93 as hermeneutical tools serving as weapons 140, 153 as impersonal 140 as means to get closer to God 139 as mother’s milk 147 expels the evil inclination 139 for women 89, 100, 133, 144, 152, 214 permission for a priest to incur impurity in order to study 141 Torath ha-Giglgulim (Metempsychosis) 38 Torczyner (Tur-Sinai) N. H. 50 Toref 47

Tosafot 71, 73, 115, 124, 136, 182 Tosafot ha-Rosh 101 Tosafot Rabbi Yitzhak ha-Zaken 112 Tosafot Rid (Isaiah diTrani) 136 Touch, sense of touch is a shame according to Aristotle 197–199 Trachonitis 127 Treading, the groom, on the bride’s foot 53 Treivish, Dov Ber 157 Treviso 36 Trompf, G. W. 157 Tsuriel, Moshe Yehiel 113 Turner, Victor 164 Tvastar, created heavens and earth from the primordial waters 205 Twelve Years 57, 68, 85 Twisting Serpent 169 Tyrer, Hayyim ben Solomon, of Czernowitz 199 Tzayar, means not only a painter, but maker of form 178–179 Tzayet (Aramaic: to obey) 85 Tzedakah, charity to the poor, 136 as linguistic innovation of the Rabbis 136 as justice 136 Tzerurot 74 Tzinora de-dasha 47–49 Tzuth (Aramaic and Hebrew: compliance with an order) 85 Uffenheimer, Benjamin 167, 171, 192, 207 Ukba-Ukva 45 Ulla 140 Ull-Foal 134 Unconscious 14 Uncritical Eye 53 Unity, is not a property of the world but its task 211 Uranus, the heavens, as masculine element in Greek myth 163 impregnates Gaea, and hates his offspring 195–196 thrust his offspring into the bosom of Gaea 163 Urbach, Efraim Elimelech 134, 141 Utitz, Emil 179

Index

Vagina 47–50 as amorphous 155 as cave, connected with creativity 156 as filthy 199–200 fright caused by man’s looking at 155 Latin for scabbard 195 Vagina Dentata (Biting Vagina) 155 Valler, Shulamit 29, 33, 58, 63, 89, 116, 119–120, 126–130, 133, 142, 160 Va-yekhulu (and they were finished) 193 Victory 13 Vow 57–58, 72 invalidated 58 Wacks, Ron 199, 211 Waldenberg, Eliezer Judah, 198 Walker, Barbara G. 49–50, 153, 155–158, 170, 212 Walther, James Arthur 20 Washofsky, Mark 33 Waters 156–162, 174, 180–181, 212 as abode of demons 160 as god Nun, primeval 162 as “mothers” In the Rig Veda 156 as symbol 212 as symbol of forces of Chaos 181 femininity and giving birth, connected associatively to 156 identification of coupling with drinking 156 identification of the feminine with 212 identification of the darkness with 181 independent existence in Gen. 2 of the 174 recurring pattern of walking on dry land after splitting 157 Waves of Opposition, against the connection between Akiva and his mate 69–77 Wealthy men of Jerusalem 61–62 Weaponry 141 as male ornament 203 Weber, Max 22, 212 Weinberg, Jehiel Jacob 34 Weinfeld, Moshe 45, 169–170, 190

263

Weisberg, Dvora E. 20 Weiss, Abraham 32–33 Weiss, Isaac Hirsch 32, 98, 112 Weissman, Gaby 84 Welcoming 9 Wellhausen, Julius 172–173, 183 Werblowsky, Raphael Jehudah Zwi 124, 157 Widowhood 57, 68, 73 Wife, opinions in regard to keeping her at home 49 her advice 3 ideal Jewish wife 89 Wife of Mar Ukba 20, 25, 32, 35, 39–46, 51–55 Wife of R. Hiyya bar Ashi 25 Wisdom 22 belonging to God, reflected in His acts 181 versus humility 52 Wittgenstein, Ludwig 15 Wolfson, Elliot Reuben 162, 191 Woman, 20, 29, 62, 89, 133, 142, 149, 165, 196–205 and misogyny 200–202 as a demon 165 as a pitcher full of filth and blood 198 attracted to heretical sects 201 directed by the life-force and concern for growth 196 every sexual object is 205 her place in the Babylonian Talmud 29, 62, 133 her place in the Land of Israel 29, 133 her position 20 her place in Torah study 89, 214 her spiritual Place 29, 133 in the Study hall, creates Chaos 214 may not wear man’s garments 202–203 screaming 138, 142, 149 was created only for procreation 198 Womb 9, 49 Womb imagery, combines elements of water and darkness 173 Womb of chaos 156–157

264

Index

Womb, as kever in the Rabbinic tradition 164 Womb-Temples 49 Women Neighbours, in the story on Akiva and his mate 57, 69, 74–76, 79–81 character of the Conversation of Akiva’s mate with 107–108 Woolf, Jeffrey R. 83 Wordplay 32, 47 “World of Speech” 55 Wright, Elizabeth 122 Yaakov-Akiva 89 Yaari, Abraham 138 Yada, knew 78, 81 Yahalom, Joseph 50 Yalkut Paris 189 Yalom, Marilyn 8–9, 144–145, 147–148, 150, 153 Yannai (Amora) 35 Yanuka (a “suckling”) 145 Yarom, Nitza 116 Yaron, Idan 205 Yassif, Eli 32, 67, 108 Yehi, as a dialogic appeal 167–168, 177 Yeridah, immigration from the Land of Israel 114, 121, 128–129 Yihud (Unification) 211 in Hasidism 211 two types of yihudim, upper and lower 211 Yisraeli-Taran, Anat 60, 102

Yose (Yasa) (Amora) 127 Yosef, Ovadiah 36, 130 Zach, Nathan 88 Zadok, Ran 45 Zakkai (Amora) 112 Zakovitch, Yair 37, 45, 78 Zayin, Hebrew letter and Hebrew root 202–205 and le-zayen in street language Hebrew 204 as abbreviation for zanav, tale 204 as letter, alludes to the male sexual organ in Kabbala 204 as letter, is wedge-shaped. 205 as taboo word in Israeli street language 204 as weaponry 203 its origin in the letter-abbreviation zayin 204 Zeno the Emperor 200 Zereg, Hebrew slang for penis 204 Zer-Kavod, Mordechai 81 Zeus, overpowered his father, Cronus, and ruled the world 163 as a painter or great artist 180 Zimmerman, David 63, 66–86 Zimmerman, Shoshana 110, 140 Zipor, Moshe A. 172, 175–176, 183 Zivan, Gili 188–189 Ziyun, see Zayin Zizek, Slavoj 164 Zuri, Jacob Samuel 63, 96, 99 Zuz 32, 35, 38

265

Index of Sources

Index of Sources Gen. 1:1 p. 172, 182, 187, 206 1:2 p. 167, 173, 182, 184–185 1:3 p. 157, 171, 173 1:1–4 p. 166 1:3–6 p. 172 1:6 p. 187 1:6–7 p. 175 1:9 p. 187 1:10 p. 206 1:10–11 p. 171 1:12 p. 206 1:14 p. 174, 187 1:16 p. 175 1:18 p. 206 1:20 p. 174, 187 1:21 p. 182 1:24 p. 174 1:25 p. 174, 206 1:26 p. 176, 207 1:27 p. 177, 188, 207 1:27–2:3 p. 207 1:28 p. 207 1:31 p. 185, 190, 206 2:1–2 p. 188, 190 2:1–3 p. 185 2:3 p. 171, 188, 208 2:6 p. 156 4:1 p. 81, 213 5:2 p. 207 6:4 p. 117 7:10–24 p. 160 8:21 p. 19 15:12 p. 157 39:11 p. 124 44:28 p. 171 45:25 p. 166 Exod. 2:15 p. 171

4:28 p. 147 6:26–27 p. 147 7:9 p. 168 12:29ff. p. 157 20:3 p. 139 25:20 p. 187 26:7 p. 187 26:33 p. 187 30:18 p. 187 38:21 p. 188 39:32 p. 188 Lev. 11:40 p. 137 14:9 p. 136 18:6 p. 198 19:3 p. 117 22:4–5 p. 137 22:28 p. 151 Num. 7:1 p. 188 Deut. 7:12 p. 48, 52 13:7 p. 117 22:5 p. 202–203 22:28–29 p. 197 30:19 p. 188 32:11 p. 167 33:13 p. 166 38:25 p. 34 41:10 p. 53 Josh. 17:15

p. 182

Jud. 6:29 p. 171 6:39 p. 168

I Sam. 12:1–10

p. 89

II Sam. 20:3 p. 74 I Kings 7:50 p. 50 19:11–12 p. 56 Isa. 1:3 p. 48 3:17 p. 50 33:4 p. 139 45:7 p. 180 45:18 p. 198 57:15 p. 36 59:17 p. 135 59:17 p. 135 66:11 p. 147 Jer. 2;27 p. 43 16:19 p. 171 Ezek. 23:47 p. 182 36:26 p. 139 Joel 2:16

p. 146

Amos 4:13 p. 180 Ps. 26:8 p. 187 31:19 p. 179 33:6 p. 178 33:22 p. 168 49:6 p. 48

266 51:19 p. 36 87:2 p. 140 103:2 p. 145 104:2 p. 187 104:5–9 p. 184 111:10 p. 52 113:9 p. 151 148:4–5 p. 180 148:5 p. 178 149:6 p. 203 Prov. 5:15 p. 156 8:13 p. 199 8:24 p. 175 8:28–29 p. 159 12:10 p. 56 13:24 p. 19 22:4 p. 52 29:7 p. 80, 108 31:30 p. 105 Job 3:10 p. 49 29:13 p. 36 29:16 p. 36 Lam. 1:16 p. 151 Eccl. 2:14 p. 104 7:29 p. 19 Song of Songs 1:2 p. 139 4:5 p. 147 4:11 p. 151 4:12 p. 156 4:15 p. 156 8:1 p. 147 8:8 p. 148 8:10 p. 147 Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha Wisdom of Solomon 11:17 p. 175

Index of Sources

II Macc. 7:28 p. 175 2 Enoch (version J) 24:2 p. 175 26:2 p. 176 30:1 p. 176 30:7 p. 176 M (=Mishnah) Ketubot 1.7 p. 48 Sotah 1:5 p. 142 Sotah 1:6 p. 145 Sotah 3:4 p. 100 Gittin 4:5 p. 198 Avot 2:5 p. 193 Avot 3:1 p. 212 Avot 4:1 p. 144 Menahot 13:11 p. 70 Keritot 6:9 p. 117 Kelim 11:1 p. 50 Oholot 7:4 p. 164 Nega’im 14:2 p. 136 Tohorot 10:6 p. 101 Niddah 8:1 p. 47 T (=Tosefta) Ketubot 7:8 p. 75 Sotah 5:9 p. 49 Bava Kamma 11:6 p. 43 Kiddushin 1:11 p. 75 PT (=Talmud Yerushalmi) Berakhot 3:1, 6a–b p. 126 Shevi’it 6:2, 36c p. 126 Shabbat 1:3, 3c p. 52 Shabbat 6:1, 7d p. 60 Taanit 4,2, 67d p. 103 Sanhedrin 10:2, 29b p. 145 Horayot 2:5, 46d p. 124 Nazir 6:1, 56a p. 141 Nazir 7:1, 56a p. 126 BT (=Babylonian Talmud) Berakhot 5b p. 69 Berakhot 8a p. 140 Berakhot 10a p. 145

Berakhot 24a p. 41 Berakhot 43b p. 33 Berakhot 56a p. 48 Berakhot 57a p. 138 Shabbat 10a p. 193 Shabbat 34a p. 73 Shabbat 54b p. 51 Shabbat 62b p. 50, 117 Shabbat 64b p. 75 Shabbat 78a p. 145 Shabbat 109b p. 33 Shabbat 119b p. 193 Shabbat 152a p. 198–199 Pesahim 49a p. 62 Pesahim 87a p. 147 Sukkah 49b p. 35 Sukkah 52a p. 199 Taanit 23b p. 33 Megillah 22a p. 128 Moed Katan 25a p. 129 Moed Katan 28a p. 113 Hagigah 5a p. 35 Hagigah 15a p. 125 Yevamot 105b p. 76, 134 Ketubot 8a p. 209 Ketubot 62b p. 21, 25, 76, 207 Ketubot 62b–63aff. p. 56 Ketubot 67b p. 25, 31 Nedarim 20a p. 47 Nedarim 50b p. 58, 60ff. Nazir 55a p. 47 Sotah 10b p. 33 Sotah 17a p. 18 Sotah 36b p. 124 Gittin 56a p. 103 Kiddushin 30b–31a p. 117 Kiddushin 31b p. 27, 111ff. Kiddushin 49b p. 148 Kiddushin 81b p. 25, 116 Bava Kamma 119a p. 43 Bava Metzia 58b p. 34 Bava Metzia 59a p. 33 Bava Metzia 84a p. 134, 141 Bava Metzia 87a p. 3

267

Index of Sources

Bava Batra 9a–b p. 26, 35, 133ff. Sanhedrin 31b p. 32 Shevuot 47b p. 47 Avodah Zarah 18a p. 48 Menahot 95b p. 152 Hullin 6a p. 73 Niddah 31a p. 193 Niddah 58a p. 47 New Testament Matt. 6:1–4 p. 41 John 10:9 p. 120 Romans 12:8 p. 36 I Corinthians 11:3 p. 20 I Corinthians 11:7–12 p. 20 Philo On the Confusion of Tongues, 140 p. 78 Moses, Book II, 88 p. 188 Hypothetica 11.14 p. 3 Josephus Ant 3:179–180

p. 188

Small Tractates Avot de-Rabbi Nathan, version A, chap. 6, pp. 28–30; p. 60ff. version B, chap. 12, pp. 29–30. p. 60ff. version A, chap. 6, p. 32 p. 103 version A, chap. 26, p. 83 p. 49 MIDRASHIM Midrash Halakha Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael Masekhta De-Vayassa 7, p. 175 p. 29 Masekhta de-Amalek 2, p. 196 p. 193 Masekhta Ba-Hodesh 8, p. 232 p. 116

Sifra End of Metzora, 9:12, 79c p. 75 Kedoshim 1:9 86c p. 117 Sifrei Numbers Sifrei, Numbers, Beha’alotekha 99, p. 98, ll. 5–8; p. 75 Sifrei on Deuteronomy para. 226, p. 258 p. 203 MIDRASH AGGADA Gen. Rabbah 1:5, p. 3 p. 179 1:9, p. 8 p. 178, 180 3:4, p. 22 p. 184 3:7, p. 23 p. 183 9:2, p. 68 p. 183 53:7, p. 564 p. 145 87:11, p. 1072 p. 124 96:30, p. 1240 p. 124 98:24–25, p. 1270 p. 124 Lev. Rabbah 2:1, p. 36 p. 49 16:1, p. 345 p. 50 27:8, p. 642 p. 48

Midrash Tehillim 18:26 p. 178 Pirkei de-Rabbi Eliezer 30, 68a p. 48 39, 92b p. 124 Midrash Tannaim on Deuteronomy 23:15, p. 148 p. 52 Seder Eliyahu Rabbah “Ha-Yeridot,” p. 51 p. 124 chapter 20, p. 112. p. 147 Seder Eliyahu Zuta Chapter 22, p. 39 p. 199 Yalkut Shimoni on Genesis, para. 44 p. 117 on Genesis, para 145 p. 124 Midrash Zuta Song of Songs, para. 8, 39 p. 147

Cant. Rabbah 1:9 p. 52 1:12 p. 139 1:16 p. 203 4:12 p. 147

Lekah Tov vol. 1, on Gen. 1:3, p. 8 p. 173

Lam. Rabbah para. 1, p. 85. p. 151

Midrash Schemchasai und Asael p. 127 p. 117

Eccl. Rabbah 2:5 p. 104 12:1:14 p. 35 Tanhuma Pekudei 2. p. 188 Beha’alotekha 5 p. 173

Maimonides, Mishneh Torah Hil. Talmud Torah 1:13 p. 144 Hil. Matnot Aniyim 10:4–5 p. 36 10:7–8 p. 38

268 Hil. Mikvaot 11:12 p. 141 Hil. Mamrim 6:10 p. 113, 131

Index of Sources

Sefer Yetzirah 2:5 p. 181 Zohar 1:39b p. 184

1:222a p. 124 2:103a p. 165 3:43a p. 207