The value of a human being / Sotah 46a

I have a close friend who does not have children, and who is offended by the rabbinic claim that God commanded procreation. The Rabbis based their claim on Genesis 1:28, God blessed [humanity] and God said to them, “P’ru u’r’vu / Be fertile and increase, fill the earth and master it; and rule the fish of the sea, the birds of the sky, and all the living things that creep on earth.” I have come to believe that the Rabbis’ decision to read this verse as a prescription, rather than descriptive, is mistaken and deeply problematic. Chapter 1 of Genesis is riddled with phrases that are grammatically similar but pertain to land and ocean, plants and animals, none of which can be “commanded” in the sense of a divine obligation. Rather, Genesis 1:28, like all the other similar expressions in the chapter, is describing God’s creation of a self-sustaining universe – which is astounding enough!

The Rabbis knew their claim was problematic. Requiring women to engage in a life-threatening activity runs counter to Jewish law. So they exempted women (Mishnah Yebamot 6:6 is appended to the end of this blog posting). But how many men can reproduce without a woman? Catch 22.

Masechet Sotah, in chapter 10, discusses the eglah arufah, the calf who is decapitated as part of a ceremony required by Torah (Deuteronomy 21) when a person is found murdered, but the perpetrator is unknown. The elders of the city closest to where the corpse is discovered convene in a valley (presumably at the site of the murder) and recite a formula disavowing responsibility for the murder that took place: “Our hands have not shed this blood, neither have our eyes seen it.” The Gemara is quick to reinterpret this to mean not – heaven forbid! – that the elders could possibly have committed the murder, but rather that the elders did not fail to offer the man food, nor fail to provide him an escort through dangerous terrain (Sotah 46b).

You might well be wondering: why decapitate the calf at all? How does this atone for the murder? We find a remarkable answer offered, rejected, and reworked:

R. Yochanan b. Shaul said: Why does the Torah mention that he should bring a heifer into a ravine? The Holy One, blessed be God, said: Let something that has not produced fruit [i.e. has never given birth] be decapitated in a place which is not fertile, and atone for one who was not given [the opportunity] to produce fruit. What “fruit” mean? If I say “offspring,” then according to this argument we should not break a heifer's neck if [the person found dead] was old or castrated. Therefore [we understand “fruit” to mean] commandments. (Sotah 46a)

I find the three parallels (murder victim, calf, location of murder/ceremony) breathtaking. Because the murder victim will be unable to “produce fruit” (i.e. father children), we decapitate a calf that itself has never given birth, and the ceremony takes place in a valley that has born no “offspring” (i.e. where no crops can grow because it is a harsh, rocky environment).

R. Yochanan’s explanation highlights the murder victim’s loss of opportunity to have children, suggesting that this is the most tragic aspect to his death. The emphasis on reproduction – indeed the elevation of reproduction to a divine commandment – jumps immediately to mind. Is this the most important thing lost when a person is murdered? As the biological parent of four children, I certainly appreciate the value of procreativity, but is this capacity (which to my mind is a blessing) the most important aspect of me, or anyone else? One is reminded of the famous mishnah found in Sanhedrin 4:5:

For this reason was a single man created: to teach you that whoever destroys a single soul in Israel, Scripture imputes [guilt] to him as though he had destroyed an entire universe. And whoever saves a single life in Israel, Scripture credits him with having saved an entire universe. (Sanhedrin 37a)

While this homiletical and ethical teaching references procreation – the first man Adam is regarded as the progenitor of all humanity – this is not the same thing as saying that the essential worth of a human being is encapsulated in his/her ability to reproduce. Rather, it expresses the immense worth of a human being.

The Gemara asks this question, as well, by posing a legalistic question: would we dispense with the ceremony if the murder victim were old (and therefore beyond the age of procreativity) or castrated (and hence incapable of reproducing)? It is a rhetorical question because Torah commands the ceremony whenever someone is slain and the murderer is unknown. Gemara’s answer is wonderful. What is lost is the person’s mitzvot – all the good things he would have done, all the divine obligations he would have undertaken, all the ways he would have lived in response to God have been lost irrevocably. An image of God has perished, stolen from humanity and from God, and all that the victim would have done and could have become has tragically been lost. This interpretation of “fruit” raises it to a much higher, more humane, and indeed holier level.

Addendum: for those interested, here is Mishnah Yebamot 6:6. (It is worthwhile to examine the discussion on Yevamot 65b–66a where a significant minority express discomfort with the exemption of women.)

No man may abstain from keeping the law, Be fertile and increase (Genesis 1:28), unless he already has children: according to the School of Shammai, two sons; according to the School of Hillel, a son and a daughter, for it is written, Male and female God created them (Genesis 5:2). If he married a woman and lived with her ten years and she bore no child, he is not permitted to abstain [from fulfilling this legal obligation]. If he divorced her, she may be married to another and the second husband may live with her for ten years. If she had a miscarriage the space [of ten years] is measured from the time of the miscarriage. The duty to be fruitful and multiply falls on the man but not on the woman. R. Yochanan b. Baroka [dissents from this view and] says: Of them of both it is written, God blessed them and God said to them: “Be fertile and increase” (Genensis 1:28).

© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman

Apotheosis (you always wanted to know what it means, right?) / Sotah 14a

“Apotheosis” is one of those words I run into now and then and have to look up each time. It never sticks in my head, but hopefully this posting and this piece of gemara will work like Crazy Glue.

“Apotheosis” comes from the Greek ἀποθεόω meaning “to deify” or “become divine.” The term refers to an individual or group that has been elevated to godlike stature. Historical examples include the Hellenistic leader Philip II of Macedonia and most of the Roman emperors. Here is the famous painting, “The Apotheosis of Homer,” by Jean-Auguste Dominique Ingres (1780-1867).


In Ingres’ imagination, Homer rises above the human realm to join the divine beings in heaven.

The type of apotheosis our Sages have in mind, as reflected in the teaching of R. Chama b. Chanina in Sotah 14a is quite different: one becomes most godlike when one engages in the difficult, uncomfortable, and messy work of caring for those most vulnerable and most hurting here on earth in this world.

The Sages are discussing the location of Moses’ burial site. It has been suggested that it is a magical, mystical place that no human can locate, or perhaps that it is located near Baal-Peor to atone for the egregious sin committed there (see account in Numbers chapter 25). Into this discussion a teaching of R. Chama b. Chanina is inserted because his last (of four) points relates directly to the burial of Moses:

R. Chama b. Chanina further said: What is the meaning of the text: You shall walk after the Lord your God (Deuteronomy 13:5)? Is it even possible for a human being to walk after the Shechinah; for has it not been said: For the Lord your God is a devouring fire (Deuteronomy 4:24)? But [the meaning is] to follow after the attributes of the Holy One, blessed be God. Just as God clothes the naked, as it is written: And the Lord God made for Adam and for his wife coats of skin, and clothed them (Genesis 3:21), so should you also clothe the naked. Just as the Holy One, blessed be God, visited the sick, as it is written: And the Lord appeared to him by the oaks of Mamre (Genesis 18:1), so should you also visit the sick. Just as the Holy One, blessed be God, comforted mourners, as it is written: And it came to pass after the death of Abraham, that God blessed Isaac his son (Genesis 25:11), so should you also comfort mourners. Just as the Holy one, blessed be God, buried the dead, as it is written: And [God] buried him in the valley (Deuteronomy 34:6), so should you also bury the dead.

Four specific behaviors are mentioned:

1. Clothing the naked
2. Visiting the sick
3. Comforting the bereaved
4. Burying the dead

Can we imagine God engaged in the nitty-gritty of these tasks? Perhaps a prior question ought to be: can we image ourselves engaged in these tasks? For many people, these are tasks that place us in contact with people and situations that are unsettling, disturbing, and frightening. These four situations, and the people who are caught in these four situations challenge many of to the core. As the saying goes, “There but for the grace of God go I.” And even if your theology doesn’t match that statement, these are four of the most “messy,” nitty-gritty situations of ordinary life that require loving attention. These are the very situations to which God personally attends. God doesn’t send angels; God does it with (as it were) God’s own hands. When we stand in that spot, attending to those most in need, we stand in God’s shoes and we extend God’s loving hands (our own).

R. Chama b. Chanina teaches us that being godlike does not mean sitting on a throne and having an angel crown us with an olive wreath or elevate us out of this world to the heavenly realm. Apotheosis occurs when, like God, we attend with our own hands those most in need, most in pain. We raise ourselves to heaven when we become most human.

© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman

Amazing Nile Woman / Sotah 12a, b

The women mentioned in the opening chapters of Exodus are extraordinary by any measure. Even a cursory reading of the first two chapters of Exodus reveals that Shifra and Puah (the midwives), Yocheved (Moses’ mother), and Miriam (his sister) are endowed with wisdom, courage, insight, and fortitude in abundance. They collude to undermine Pharaoh, possessed of the quintessential “Us-versus-Them” mentality.

Our Rabbis concur in this assessment and enlarge the view. They tell us that when Pharaoh decreed the death of all Israelite baby boys, Amram (Moses’ father) divorced his wife to prevent births that would give way to deaths:

And there went a man of the house of Levi (Exodus 2:1). Where did he go? R.Yehudah b. Zevina said that he followed the advice of his daughter. A Tanna taught: Amram was the greatest man of his generation; when he saw that the wicked Pharaoh had decreed, Every son that is born you shall cast into the river, he said: “In vain do we labor.” He arose and divorced his wife. All [the Israelites] thereupon arose and divorced their wives.

His daughter [Miriam] said to him, “Father, your decree is more severe than Pharaoh's because Pharaoh decreed only against the males whereas you have decreed against the males and females. Pharaoh decreed only concerning this world, whereas you have decreed concerning this world and the world-to-come [the babies drowned in the Nile will receive a portion in the world-to-come, but those who are never born will not]. In the case of the wicked Pharaoh there is a doubt whether his decree will be fulfilled or not, whereas in your case, because you are righteous, it is certain that your decree will be fulfilled, as it is said, You shall also decree a thing, and it shall be established for you (Job 22:28). He arose and took his wife back [in marriage]; and they all arose and took their wives back. (12a)

The Rabbis attribute to adolescent Miriam the insight, courage, and wisdom her father lacks. She is responsible for the continuation of Jewish life in Egypt.

On the daughter of Pharaoh, the Rabbis lavish equal praise, or perhaps even higher praise. She alone in the royal house of Egypt – indeed, in the entire country – rejects her father’s idolatry and separates herself from his genocidal plans.

And the daughter of Pharaoh came down to bathe at the river (Exodus 2:5). R. Yochanan said in the name of R. Shimon b. Yochai: It teaches that she went down there to cleanse herself of her father's idols; and thus it says: When the Lord shall have washed away the filth of the daughters of Zion… (Isaiah 4:4). (12b)

They hint that her immersion in the river was a conversion, the river serving as her mikveh.

We are not surprised that the daughter of Pharaoh – whom the Rabbis will honor with the name Batya (“daughter of God”) – not only saves Moses, but insists upon doing it with her own hands, rather than through the agency of her servants. The discussion revolves around the possibly ways to parse amatah: it could be understood as “female servant” or “her amah” where an amah (cubit) connotes the arm, which is its basis of length.

And [Pharaoh’s daughter] sent her handmaid to fetch it (Exodus 2:5). R. Yehudah and R. Nechemiah [disagree in their interpretation of amatah]: one said that the word amatah means “her hand” and the other said that it means “her handmaid.”

The one who said that it means “her hand” said this because it is written amatah. The one who said that it means “her handmaid” said this because the text does not say yadah [literally: “her hand”].

But according to the one who said that it means “her handmaid,” it has just been stated that Gabriel came and beat them to the ground! [Just above this passage, we were told that the angel Gabriel beat the servants of Pharaoh’s daughter into the ground because they criticized the princess for opposing her father’s genocidal policy toward the male babies of the Israelites.] He [Gabriel] left her one [servant], because it is not appropriate for a king's daughter to be unattended.

But according to the one who said that it means “her hand,” the text should have been yadah (literally: “her hand”). It teaches us that [her arm] became lengthened; for a master has said: You find it so with the arm of Pharaoh's daughter and similarly with the teeth of the wicked, as it is written: You have broken [shibbarta] the teeth of the wicked (Psalm 3:8), and Resh Lakish said: Do not read shibbarta but rather shirbabta [you have lengthened, or stretched].

R. Yehudah and R. Nechemiah disagree about how to understand the term amatah. We don’t know which sage offers which viewpoint, but one clearly wants us to understand that the daughter of Pharaoh does not relegate the task of saving the child in the Nile to her servant. She boldly reaches into the water and scoops him out herself. What is more, God assists her effort by making her Elastigirl (you did see “The Incredibles,” right?) so that she could maintain her dignity by standing on the shore and reaching into the Nile to retrieve the basket containing Moses. The sage who offers this interpretation relies on a gezeirah shava, comparing Exodus 2:5 to Psalm 3:8 and also reformulating a term in the latter verse to read “lengthen” or “stretch” rather than “broke,” and applying this rereading to Pharaoh’s daughter’s situation at the shore of the Nile.

And if this isn’t high enough praise, the Rabbis continue, questioning the seemingly awkward Hebrew va’tir’ei’hu et ha-yeled in Exodus 2:6:

She (Pharaoh’s daughter) opened it [the basket] and saw the child (Exodus 2:6). It should have said “and saw.” R. Yose b. R. Chanina said: She saw the Shechinah with him.

R. Yose reads va’tir’ei’hu et ha-yeled as “she saw him with him.” The extra “him” who was present was the Shechinah, God’s indwelling presence in the world. So add this to the attributes of the daughter of Pharaoh: she is keenly attuned to the Shechinah.

These are beautiful passages about the power of courage and insight to bring redemption.

© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman

Which Organ Rules? / Sotah 8b - 9b

The Rabbis of the Mishnah articulate a general rule in Sotah 8b:

According to the measure by which one measures, they measure it out for him.

In other words: Heaven (“they”) exacts retribution for evil in a manner that both identifies and reflects the sin committed. The subsequent Mishnah, on daf 9b, spells this out with examples that reinforce the notion of measure-for-measure retribution. Here’s the mishnah on 9b:

Samson went after his eyes; therefore the Philistines put out his eyes, as it is said, The Philistines laid hold of him and put out his eyes (Judges 16:21). Absalom gloried in his hair; therefore he was hanged by his hair. And because he cohabited with the ten concubines of his father, he was stabbed with ten lances, as it is said, Ten young men that bore Yoav’s armor encompassed him (II Samuel 18:15). Because he stole three hearts – the heart of his father, the heart of the court of justice, and the heart of Israel, as it is said, So Absalom stole the hearts of the men of Israel (II Samuel 15:6) – therefore three darts were thrust through him, as it is said, He took three darts in his hand and thrust them through the heart of Absalom (II Samuel 18:14). [This principle] is the same in connection with the good. Miriam waited a short time for Moses, as it is said, And his sister stood afar off (Exodus 2:4); therefore Israel waited for her seven days in the wilderness, as it is said, The people did not journey onward until Miriam was brought in again (Numbers 12:15). Joseph earned merit by burying his father and there was none among his brothers greater than he, as it is said, Joseph went up to bury his father… and there went up with him both chariots and horsemen (Genesis 50:7-9). Who is greater than Joseph? No less than Moses, who occupied himself with [Joseph’s] burial. Moses earned merit through the bones of Joseph and there was none in Israel greater than he, as it is said, Moses took the bones of Joseph with him (Exodus 13:19). Who is greater than Moses? No less than the Omnipresent was occupied [with his burial], as it is said, He buried him in the valley (Deuteronomy 34:6). Not only concerning Moses did they said this, but concerning all the righteous, as it is said, Your righteousness shall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your reward (Isaiah 58:8).

The examples offered us on the negative side of the ledger are Samson (who went after his eyes) and Absalom (who gloried in his beautiful mane). On the positive side of the ledger stand Miriam (who patiently waited to see that her brother would be saved by the daughter of Pharaoh) and Joseph (who buried his father, Jacob). Evil is requited with evil; goodness is repaid with goodness.

All four examples affirm that our mind – our consciousness –is our dominant organ. Samson’s eyes may have led him astray, but his mind was in complete collusion. Absalom was enamored of his gorgeous locks because he indulged in vainglorious thinking. Miriam and Joseph kept their priorities clear – their minds were locked onto appropriate targets and hence their actions were meritorious.

The Rabbis speak often of the Yetzer Ra (inclination to do evil) and the Yetzer Tov (inclination to do good). No one would deny the power of our physical desires in our lives. The Rabbis seem to be suggesting, however, that our minds are both the mitigating factor and the final arbiter. We see, hear, smell, taste, and touch what is in the world, but it is our minds that construct a narrative that determines how we will respond. In other words, physical experiences are powerful, but the mind can overpower them and rule the roost – both for good and for evil.

While there are many strains of Buddhism today, all subscribe to the teachings of Siddhartha Gautama (~563 – 483 B.C.E.), the Buddha who taught that the mind – human consciousness – is the most powerful organ of all, and that when our minds completely overpower our bodies we can access ultimate reality. For Buddhists, detachment from the physical world is an essential skill for achieving nirvana. Detachment means that physical experiences are denied the power to control our lives.

Judaism generally favors full engagement with the physical world and sees the capacity for physical sensation as a blessing from God, even if it can lead us in the wrong direction. The Rabbis even tell us that if we don’t enjoy the pleasures of life, we will be held to account in olam haba, the world-to-come, for foregoing God’s gifts. Moreover, Yoma 69b records that once the Rabbis captured the Yetzer Ra and imprisoned it in a barrel for three days. During that time, no one worked and even chickens stopped laying eggs. The Rabbis conclude that without the impetus of the Yetzer Ra, “no man would build a house or marry a wife” and no constructive work would be done.

Yet our minds are meant to be mediators and gatekeepers in control of our bodies’ responses to the physical world. When we need strength, we can draw on God through prayer, study, and meditation. But whence the God we draw on, but deep within ourselves, the divine spark burning in our souls, at the core of our minds?

For Buddhists, the goal is to detach from the physical universe and sever its control over us, to overcome desire and achieve release from the narrow confine of self-interest that torments us endlessly. For Jews, in contrast, the goal is to channel desire constructively and achieve righteousness in this physical world, whose value we affirm and whose beauty we celebrate. Samson and Absalom failed, but Miriam and Joseph succeeded gloriously.

© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman

Measure for Measure? (Sotah 8b - 9b)

In Measure for Measure, Shakespeare asserts, “Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall” (Act II, Scene 1). In an ideal world goodness is rewarded, but sin is not.

In contrast, the Mishnah on Sotah 8b claims that not only is sin severely punished by God, but punishment is meted out precisely measure for measure; that is, according to each aspect of one’s sin, one is punished:

According to the measure with which one measures [out one’s actions], it is measured out to him. She [the sotah] adorned herself with sin; the Holy One blessed be God made her repulsive. She exposed herself to sin; the Holy One blessed be God held her up for exposure. She began the sin with the thigh and afterward with the belly; therefore she is punished first in the thigh and afterward in the belly – and the rest of the body does not escape.

The Gemara on 9b supplies an example of measure-for-measure punishment in a remarkable midrash on the story of the serpent in the Garden of Eden:

We thus find with the primeval serpent [in the Garden of Eden] that set its eyes on that which was not proper for it: what it sought was not granted to it and what it possessed was taken from it. The Holy One, blessed be God, said: “I declared: Let it be king over every animal and beast; but now, Cursed are you beyond all cattle and beyond every beast of the field (Genesis 3:14). I declared, let it walk erect; but now it shall crawl on its belly. I declared: Let its food be the same as that of humans; but now it shall eat dust. It said: I will kill Adam and marry Eve; but now, I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her seed (Genesis 3:15).” (Sotah 9b)

We already know from the Torah’s telling that the serpent was cursed for enticing Eve to eat the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge. The Rabbis here suggest that its punishment is not in the least arbitrary: it is a one-for-one reflection of his overstepping proper boundaries. In each manner that the serpent seeks and takes too much, he correspondingly loses something.

My chevruta, Rabbi Rieser, pointed out that this midrash supplies motivation for the serpent to entice Eve that is absent from Torah’s account: the serpent desires Eve as his sexual partner. Rabbi Rieser’s point is well made, but I would add that as Torah tells the tale, the serpent’s motivation is his desire to manipulate and control, an attribute we all possess to one degree or another and which can lead us down dangerous paths. (We might compare the serpent to Anansi the Spider of West African and Caribbean folklore: he is a trickster endowed with a certain degree of wisdom and the power of speech; similarly, Coyote in Native American tales.) The power to influence the behavior of others is real power that inflates the ego; this is sufficient motivation.

Returning to the Gemara’s claim about divine punishment, I find three aspects troubling.

1. The first is the claim itself, which stands in stark contrast to the reality we experience. Yet we find it so ingrained in rabbinic thinking that we even find a passage in Ta’anit 21a in which Nachum Ish Gamzu explains to this students that the horrors and sufferings that have befallen him were not only deserved, but he actually requested them and God confirmed them as just (Nachum could hardly have brought these punishments on himself; God must have approved and acted in accord with his wish):

It is related of Nachum of Gamzu that he was blind in both his eyes, his two hands and legs were amputated, and his whole body was covered with boils… his disciples said to him, “Master, since you are wholly righteous, why has all this befallen you?” And he replied, “I have brought it all upon myself. Once I was journeying on the road and was making for the house of my father-in-law and I had with me three donkeys, one laden with food, one with drink, and one with all kinds of dainties, when a poor man met me and stopped me on the road and said to me, ‘Master, give me something to eat.’ I replied to him, ‘Wait until I have unloaded something from the donkey.’ I had hardly managed to unload something from the donkey when the man died [from hunger]. I then went and laid myself on him and exclaimed, ‘May my eyes which had no pity upon your eyes and become blind, may my hands which had no pity upon my hands be cut off, may my legs which had no pity upon your legs be amputated,’ and my mind was not at rest until I added, ‘May my whole body be covered with boils.‘” Thereupon his pupils exclaimed, “Alas! That we see you in such a sore plight.” To this he replied, “Woe would it be to me did you not see me in such a sore plight.” (Ta’anit 21a)

2. The second troubling aspect is that throughout Sotah we find the pervading presumption that the suspected adulteress is guilty. We know that the bitter waters can exonerate her, but the humiliation she is subjected to (daf 8 spells it out in graphic and disturbing detail) seems to presume that she is guilty until proven innocent to a far greater degree than Numbers chapter 5 suggests.

3. Should we truly aspire to seeing the guilty punished severely? I can understand the desire that those who grotesquely overstep boundaries lose accordingly – the Kenneth Lays and Bernie Madoffs, not to mention the Hitlers, Pol Pots, and Stalins – because it is a human response. In a truly ideal world, we would follow the teaching of Beruriah, the daughter of R. Tarfon and the wife of R. Meir:

There were once some robbers in the neighborhood of R. Meir who caused him a great deal of trouble. R. Meir accordingly prayed that they should die. His wife Beruriah said to him: How do you justify [that such a prayer should be permitted]? Is it because it is written (Psalm 104:35) Let chatta'im cease? Is it written “sinners”? It is written chot'imchatta'im “sins”! Further, look at the end of the verse: and let the wicked be no more. Since the sins will cease, there will be no more wicked people! Rather pray for them that they should repent, and there will be no more wicked. He did pray for them, and they repented. (Berakhot 10a)

While many who perpetrate evil are not open to repentance and rehabilitation, others are. Hopefully, we can aim higher than human revenge and divine retribution.

© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman

Expecting the worst usually results in fulfilled expectations (Sotah 7a)

So often what you expect is what you get. Do we expect people to be at their best, or do we assume that they’ll behave immorally and get away with as much as possible? And how do our expectations influence their choices?

The Torah’s account of the Sotah ritual is confusing. It’s difficult to imagine how it would take place, what it would look like. The Rabbis wonder too. In the Mishnah on daf 7a they present a disagreement: The Rabbis assign two escorts to accompany the man and his wife to Jerusalem; R. Yehudah says this is not the case.

How does [the husband] deal with her? He brings her to the court where he lives and they assign him two disciples of the Sages [to accompany him and his wife to Jerusalem] lest he cohabit with her along the way. R. Yehudah says: her husband is trusted with her.

Torah says nothing about chaperones. Numbers 5:11-15 tells us only that if a man is overcome by a fit of jealousy and believes his wife to be unfaithful, but there are no witnesses to support his suspicion, the man shall bring his wife to the priest (verse 15).

How, then, does the Gemara explain Mishnah’s assertion that escorts are required? Gemara quotes R. Yehudah in the name of Rav as teaching that escorts are assigned only if the husband does not live in Jerusalem and must travel a distance to the Temple with his wife.

But what is the purpose of the escorts? Two suggestions are offered:

… on a journey there must be three, in case one of them should have need to relieve himself and consequently one of them will be left alone with [the possibility of] immorality! No. Here the reason is that they should be witnesses against him.

The Gemara first suggests that two disciples of the Sages accompany the man and his wife so that there will be two men in her presence at all times, because were there one escort, when the husband excused himself, the single escort might engage in inappropriate sexual activity with the wife. The Gemara next suggests that the escorts are there to supervise the husband, so he will not cohabit with his wife. But in the first case, two men alone with a woman is no guarantee against sexual activity – even ten escorts is no guarantee – and the Rabbis realize this. Therefore the escorts are there to patrol the husband.

[The Rabbis] did not teach [that a woman may be in the company of two men] except in the case of pure men. In the case of dissolute men not even with ten. It once happened that ten men carried a [live] woman [out of the city] in on a bed [to violate her]. No. Here the reason is that they will know to warn him.

The circle of high level of suspicion surrounding sexual behavior has broadened to encompass the husband himself. It’s a curious thing to imagine that this husband, who has accused his wife of adultery and is about to impose on her a humiliating ordeal, would be interested in intimacy. We might imagine his sexual intentions rather more dangerous than intimate, thought the Rabbis do not voice this concern.

The Rabbis next turn to the claim that R. Yehudah makes in the Mishnah that escorts are unnecessary because the husband can be trusted not to cohabit with his wife – who is in a state of tum’ah (ritual impurity) – on the way to Jerusalem. What follows is a fascinating back-and-forth concerning a kal va’chomer (a fortiori) argument offered by R. Yehudah to prove that the husband can be trusted to bring his wife to the Temple without escorts. The discussion that ensues both establishes the inherent weakness of many kal va’chomer arguments – they can be argued as effectively backward as forward – and the fact that the entire matter rests on a foundation of presumptions concerning the psychology of the husband.

R. Yehudah says: By kal va’chomer (from minor to major, a fortiori) reasoning [we deduce] that a husband is trusted. If a husband is trusted in the matter of his wife during menstruation where the penalty [for sexual contact] is karet (excision, which the Rabbis generally understand as an early and untimely death brought about by heaven), how much more so in the matter of his wife under suspicion in connection with which there is merely a prohibition [but no penalty].

[How do] the Rabbis [respond]? The same reasoning establishes [their viewpoint, which is that the husband is not to be trusted to be alone with his wife on the trip to Jerusalem]: in the case of a wife during menstruation where the penalty is karet (excision), since it is so severe, the husband is trusted; but in the case of a wife under suspicion where [cohabitation] is a mere prohibition, since there is no severe [penalty] for him, he is not trusted.

Having turned R. Yehudah’s kal va’chomer around, they now offer an entirely different justification from R. Yehudah: in fact, they tell us, he bases it on Scripture (Numbers 5:15) which makes no mention of escorts, and the Rabbis simply declare on their authority that chaperones are assigned.

Gemara offers another round of kal va’chomer arguments. The first is attributed to R. Yosi and as we shall see, it is identical to R. Yehudah’s kal va’chomer. However, when the Rabbis unravel it, they reverse it in a new and inventive manner.

R. Yosi says: By kal va’chomer (a fortiori) reasoning [we deduce] that a husband is trusted with her. If a husband is trusted in the matter of his wife during menstruation where the penalty is karet (excision), how much more so in the matter of his wife while under suspicion in connection with which there is a mere prohibition.

[The Sages] replied to him: No. If you argue [that the husband is trusted] in the case of his wife during menstruation who will be permitted [to him when she is no longer a menstruant], will you argue so in the case of his wife under suspicion when he might never have a right to her! It further states: Stolen waters are sweet, etc. (Proverbs 9:17).

The proof text cited by the Rabbis deserves to be quoted in its entirety and its context considered. Chapter 9 of Proverbs speaks of Wisdom personified as a woman inviting wayfarers to a grand feast of understanding and insight, the first course of which is yirat Adonai (awe or fear of God – verse 10). The author of Proverbs (presumptively King Solomon) then compares her with a stupid woman who sits in her doorway beckoning to travelers and saying, “Stolen waters are sweet, and bread eaten furtively is tasty.” The Rabbis, in assuming that the husband will cohabit with his wife on the way to Jerusalem, presume he will sip stolen waters and eat bread furtively.

The Rabbis often seem to presume the worst in human behavior. The Sotah is treated as guilty until proven innocent. The husband cannot be trusted to escort her to Jerusalem alone. There is a presumption that only fear of punishment motivates self-control. Parents who expect the worst from their children make poor choices and bad behavior a self-fulfilling prophecy. I always found that expecting the best from my children worked beautifully and powerfully to elicit good behavior and appropriate choices. Would it not work with adults, with ourselves? I wonder if focus on presumption of bad behavior doesn’t miss an opportunity to encourage people to look for the best within themselves.

© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman

Inflation: when it hits souls, not shekels (Sotah 4b)

The Talmud’s discussion of the Sotah and adultery in marriage, has thus far assumed that blame for a failed marriage lies primarily with the wife. While the Rabbis acknowledge that, at least in theory, it’s as difficult to make a good match as it is to part the Reed Sea (Sotah 2a), the prevailing assumption on the first two dapim is that women are responsible for the quality of the marriage. The turning point comes on 4b where the Sages explore the meaning of a verse from Proverbs:

What is the meaning of the verse, and a married woman ensnares a precious soul (nefesh y’karah) (Proverbs 6:26)? R. Chiyya bar Abba said in the name of R. Yochanan: Any person who possesses a haughty spirit in the end will stumble [into the sin of committing adultery with] a married woman, as it is said, and a married woman ensnares a nefesh y’karah (Proverbs 6:26).

R. Chiyya conveys R. Yochanan’s teaching that the “precious soul” of the lover that is ensnared by a married woman may be understood as the “haughty soul” of the lover that ensnares him, and as a result he becomes involved with a married woman. In reading nefesh yekarah as “haughty soul” rather than “precious soul” he opens the door to recognizing that the lover shares responsibility. Rava makes this point more explicitly:

Rava said: [but it reads] nefesh y’karah (“precious soul”); it should have said nefesh g’voha (“haughty soul, or spirit”); and also it should have said “it ensnares” [rather than “ensnares [the married woman]”]. Rather, Rava said, anyone who has sexual intercourse with a married woman, even if he has studied Torah, about which it is written, it is more precious than pearls (peninim) (Proverbs 3:5) – [that is] more precious than the Kohen Gadol who enters the innermost sanctum (lifnai v’livnim) – she ensnares him into the judgment of Gehinnom (purgatory).

Rava holds that it is the lover’s own arrogance (his haughty soul) that ensnares him, not the woman. The “she” in Proverbs 6:26 is understood by Rava as the nefesh gevoha (haughty soul).

Jungian psychologist James Hollis, in his book Why Good People Do Bad Things: Understanding Our Darker Selves asks: why do otherwise good, decent people, do unexpected bad things? Drawing on Jung’s concept of the Shadow, Hollis points out that we think our egos reign over our psyches, but in fact our psyches are driven by discrete energies and an agenda we are barely aware of, and need to bring out into the open, into the light of day, so we can deal with the pain fueling them.

In a sense, the gemara says something similar when the passage continues, comparing arrogance to idolatry:

R. Yochanan said in the name of R. Shimon b. Yochai: Any person who possesses a haughty spirit is like an idol worshiper, because here it is written, Every haughty person is an abomination to the Lord… (Proverbs 16:5) and there it is written, And you shall not bring an abomination to your house (Deuteronomy 7:26).

R. Yochanan himself said: It is as if he denied God’s existence altogether, as it is written, And your heart will become haughty and you will forget Adonai your God… (Deuteronomy 8:14).

Robert L. Moore (author of Facing the Dragon: Confronting Personal and Spiritual Grandiosity) argues that the deep structures of our minds harbor narcissism and spiritual grandiosity that can erupt to cause havoc and wreak destruction. Moore writes, “There is a healthy narcissism that results in self-esteem and a healthy exhibitionism, in contrast to pathological narcissism, which results in an oscillation between arrogance and terrible self-hate” (p. 100). Destructive narcissism is arrogance on steroids. For the Rabbis, as in Torah, idolatry is uniquely dangerous and always destructive of human life – spiritually and physically. Moore, who promotes a healthy spirituality and recognition that we are not God, would agree.

© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman

The "spirit" of jealousy (Sotah 3b)

Rabbi Rieser wrote, “The very idea of the Sotah ritual is repugnant.” In this posting, I want to address the Sotah ritual itself and a passage in the gemara that questions what kind of “spirit” inspires a husband to feel the sort of jealousy that sets this all in motion.

The ninth commandment forbids coveting. It’s unusual for Torah to command or prohibit an emotion (how is it even possible?) yet jealousy is so insidious that Torah makes the effort. How do we dissipate a toxic emotion when there is a risk it can boil over into violence?

People in the ancient world did not enjoy the benefits of police, an extensive court system, legal restraining orders, locking doors, and home alarm systems. If a man became overcome with jealousy and believed his wife to be involved in an illicit affair, he could be a real danger to her. I googled “jealous husband kills wife” and found an alarming number of articles chronicling horrific examples – and in some cases there were restraining orders. Anger given over to rage is perilous, and the anger of presumed betrayal in an intimate relationship can explode and become homicidal.

What does one do with a man whose jealousy is boiling over yet there is no evidence that his suspicions are valid? I would contend that the ritual of the Sotah is a valve for releasing pent-up jealous rage, hopefully before violence ensues.

…If any man’s wife has gone astray and broken faith with him in that a man has had carnal relations with her unbeknown to her husband, and she keeps secret the fact that she has defiled herself without being forced, and there is no witness against her – but a fit of jealousy comes over him and he is wrought up about the wife who has defiled herself; or if a fit of jealousy comes over one and he is wrought up about his wife although she has not defiled herself – the man shall bring his wife to the priest… (Numbers 5:11-15)

The ordeal of the Sotah involves elements that are unquestionably demeaning to the woman: her dress, her hair, the concoction she must drink, the whole manner of the ritual. With a defined course of action and priests overseeing the entire ritual, which is held in the Mishkan (Tabernacle) or Mikdash (Temple), there are several layers of control in place so that the jealous husband is less likely to attack his wife.

Most importantly, the “decision” is out of all human hands; it is in God’s hands alone and thus cannot be questioned once rendered. The woman drinks a potion containing a bit of ink, some dust, and water. Perhaps not nutritious, but unlikely to cause serious harm. (Have you heard the saying, “You have to eat a peck of dirt in your life”?) The horrific consequence of drinking the potion if guilty of adultery – that her genitals will fall out – is unlikely to occur. Rather, the ritual would most likely exonerate the woman. Moreover, if she had indeed been engaged in an adulterous affair, and if she were pregnant by her lover, the ritual covered that exigency, too. The Sotah who underwent the ritual and survived was rewarded with fertility – a special gift of recompense from God. This child would be considered her husband’s – no question of paternity. This precludes branding an innocent child a mamzer.

The entire ordeal is public, and this too is important. Everyone now knows that the husband’s jealousy overcame him and that he put his innocent wife through a horrendous ordeal. This alone could serve as a check on future emotional outbursts and behavior. I would imagine that a husband who put his wife through such an ordeal only to see her both exonerated and pregnant would be a man with a fair stock of guilt to work off and a long road to walk to make up to his wife what he had put her through. Perhaps this was the best-case scenario in a world without police, locks, and marriage counselors, for promoting reconciliation. Far from perfect, but possibly effective.

The Rabbi, interpret kin’a as “warning” rather than the pshat, “jealous fit.” Jealousy can lead to chaos and violence; a warning might lead to repentance and reconciliation. But on what basis is a warning issued? Somebody must have seen something; there must be a witness. Yet Torah says that there were no witnesses. While the simple meaning of the text is inescapable, picturing the reality of the situation is far more difficult for the Rabbis as it is for us.

The Rabbis wonder about the “spirit of jealousy” that overcomes the husband. The word ruach generally has positive connotations, but not always:

A tanna of the academy of R. Yishmael taught: A man does not warn his wife unless a spirit enters him, as it is said: And the spirit of jealousy came upon him and he became jealous of his wife. What is the meaning [of the word] “spirit?” The Rabbis identify it as a spirit of impurity, but R. Ashi says it is a spirit of purity. It is logical accordingly to the view of the one who declares that it is a spirit of purity, because it was taught (in a baraita): and he became jealous of his wife lends the husband permission. These are the words of R. Ishmael. But R. Akiba says it is an obligation. It is well if you say that it means a spirit of purity, then everything is right; but if you say that it means a spirit of impurity, [can there be] permission or an obligation for a man to bring a spirit of impurity into himself?

Rashi tells us that the source of the “spirit of impurity” is satan who incites the husband to accuse his wife. The spirit of purity inspires a similar warning, but with the intent of insuring her decency. Did the Rabbis see these “spirits” as from without (good angels and satan) or from within (the yetzer tov/good inclination and the yetzer ra/evil inclination)?

R. Ashi of the academy of R. Yishmael, holding that it is a good spirit that inspires the husband, tells us that the husband thereby has permission to warn his wife, but not an obligation. R. Akiba, however, holds that the husband is obligated to warn the wife. The Rabbis point out that if the impetus could come from an impure spirit, then the man ought not have permission, let alone be obligated by it. R. Akiba, for whom no word is extraneous, will eventually argue (on 3b) that the double use of the root kuf-nun-aleph in Num. 5:14 makes the act of warning an imperative.

It appears that the Rabbis would like to ascribe to the man good motives, but leave open the possibility that he was truly overcome by a “fit of jealousy.” Yet, having defined kin’a as “warning” in order to place a layer of control (safety) on the process, they feel constrained to presume it was a spirit of purity. The hole dug by jealousy and even sincere attempts to curtail its consequences grows deeper and deeper, messier and messier. No wonder we have the ninth commandment!

© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman