The person who wrote this piece is not the same one who is posting it. When I wrote it at the beginning of the week, I knew what I was going to write after just a quick glance at a few verses. Something kept me from posting it right away; maybe I missed the last minute pressure of finishing just before Shabbat, or maybe I felt I really should at least read through the parashah. And then, two days ago, a close friend and colleague told me that his daughter has contracted a multiple sclerosis. And then I finally read chapter 28... this week’s installment is dedicated to Deema bat Doris.
I don’t know if I’ll make it to shul this Shabbat, but if the synagogue I do go to reads the entire parashah, I won’t be able to hear shishi, the 6th reading, too well unless I’m sitting right next to the action (which means far from the women’s section, which creates another problem…). The traditional 6th reading, 28:7-69, is the longest aliyah in the Torah, but it is supposed to be read quickly and softly, so as not to upset the worshippers. Wrapped by eight verses of blessing that precede it, and a summary verse of narrative at the end, the core of the reading, 28:15-68, is a tocheycha (warning), telling Israel in minute detail the consequences it faces if it breaks the covenant. A difficult passage, not one for delicate ears.
This commentary, Netivoteha Shalom (Her Paths are Peaceful, not V’chol Netivoteha Shalom, All Her Paths are Peaceful (Proverbs 3:17), because if that were true, we could all go to the beach, with a lot of sunscreen, or better, long sleeve shirts, etc.) is dedicated to dealing honestly with difficult passages; unfortunately, mainstream Jewish tradition felt no need to shelter the listener from the difficult ones we’ve dealt with these last five weeks. In fact, in the case of ben sorer umoreh, the execution of the rebellious son (21:18-21) and ir hanidahat, the total destruction of the apostate city (13:13-19), where tradition mercifully declared that these cases never happened, nor will they (lo haya/hayta, v’lo atid/atidah lihyot), the only thing left of them is the telling: v’lama nichtav/nicht’va -- So why do we have these texts ? D’rosh v’kabel sachar -- Expound on them, and you will be rewarded. There is supposedly great merit in giving these passages the greatest possible exposure,or…maybe drosh/expound demands special conditions that torah reading as it’s practiced in the synagogue does not fulfill.
The texts that we have struggled with bespeak different values than the evolved Judaism we pride ourselves with today – and therefore we cannot simply sit passively and allow them to be read in the synagogue. We make such demands on our Christian co-religionists, regarding the Passion; shouldn’t we also be cleaning own act up? Reading these texts in a muted voice like a tocheycha would be a start; at least it would give a signal to the attentive listener that it’s not business as usual. But I think it would be better if we exercised our right to choose and simply read around these passages; these are weeks with magnificent Haftarot of Consolation from Deutero-Isaiah, and they could be the focus of the Torah service instead.
As much as I wished these passages didn’t exist, or had been tucked away in an apocrypha by earlier generations, I am not for ignoring or censuring them; they must be seen as a part of our journey and thoroughly and respectfully studied. We cannot afford to hamstring our access to our sources as they weave phrases from difficult passages into midrash (e.g. et biti natati la’ish hazeh in Tractate Kiddushin) and give them new life. And we must be capable and willing to approach others who have different sensibilities regarding these texts and engage them in dialogue. But in our own worship, these texts must not be celebrated, and that’s what torah reading is: pageantry, ceremony, choreography, melody; in short, a celebration.
There are some more difficult passages in Ki Tavo; e.g., while previewing the parashah at shul last week, 26: 18-19 caught my eye – I would not read those verses publicly. But I would definitely keep the tocheycha in the service. This week, if I’m there when and where it’s read, I’ll close my eyes, hold my partner’s hand and be grateful that we’re not reduced to eating placentas (it gets worse). We won’t run away from it -- we’ll rather find the time and the place to read it slowly and appreciate the tocheycha’s sad, sad description of the consequences of human failures (and maybe God’s wrath). They are so close to scenes from the Holocaust (remember, I’m writing from Germany…), but they are also going on in our own day, with the active participation of some of our loved ones and the collusion of our own politicians, to the benefit of our economic empire.
I’m closer to personal prayer than I’ve been for a long time. But here’s a public one for Ki Tavo: that the horrors that jolt us in sacred texts will not defeat us, and that we’ll find meaningful partnership in a community that has vision, takes responsibility and shares its blessings.
posted for Rabbi Jeremy Milgram
Friday, August 31, 2007
Friday, August 24, 2007
: Netivoteha Shalom on Ki Tetzey: This is a Man's World...
Posted for Rabbi Jeremy Milgrom
I began this series of comments on Parashat Hashavua a few weeks ago while in western Germany, where the closest thing to a Torah commentary in the nearby Saarbruecken synagogue was a translation of the Bible... into Russian! I travel with CD ROM of basic sources, but it’s not that user-friendly, and was delighted to discover the same daf yomi website that Jerry Abrams mentioned a while ago, which included a livestreamed shiur in Haredi singsong that helped me with the Aramaic of Yevamot 78b-79a (on David and the Gibeonites)...I finally arrived this morning at a decent Jewish library in the Berlin JCC, and, after skimming through a good number of volumes, ranging from the Chofetz Chayim to Everett Fox, none of whom were addressing my concerns, I came across The Women’s Torah Commentary (ed. Elyse Goldstein) which hit the spot with Reconstructionist Rabbi Judith Gary Brown’s essay. Her opening paragraph reads as follows:
Parashat Ki Tetzey continues the enumeration of laws for the social well-being of Israel. In general, this parasha deals with laws that are focused on the private, inner workings of the Israelite community – specifically, who can be part of the community and how those within the community should interact with each other. But Ki Tetzey abounds with laws that truly challenge our women’s sensibilities.
Brown’s analysis focuses on 22:13-21, motsi shem ra, (or, to be exact, on the accused, rather than on the accuser). Below, I have outlined elements from this sugya and others in the parashah to show how great the challenge actually is. Meanwhile, allow me to bring Brown’s conclusion:
The rabbis of the talmudic period did progress to a somewhat more complex understanding of the role of women in society. Women were viewed less as objects and more as subjects in society. For example, in the case of rape, although the Bible provided only for the father receiving the bride-price of fifty shekels of silver (Deut. 22:28-29), the rabbis demanded that the rapist must also compensate the woman for her physical and psychological damage (Ketubot 43 a-b). And although, according to our biblical text, the rapist was compelled to marry the woman, under talmudic law, the girl could could refuse to marry the rapist (Ketubot 39b).
If we look to our texts as representative – evidence, if you will – of the development of our current social mores, we would see a progression towards our more balanced understanding of women’s and men’s roles in society. It is in this way that we can most powerfully experience the dynamic nature of our heritage. Our task, then, is to listen to the voice of history as we seek to uncover what the text is trying to tell us, and to honestly acknowledge our reactions to that text. We may not find the answers we want, but we will develop a better understanding of where we have been and how far we have traveled. And perhaps we will discover those who traveled this same path before us.
It is reassuring for me, as well, to discover those who travel the same path as I do.
Shabbat shalom,
Jeremy Milgrom
This is a Man’s World...
Ki Tetze is written for men. Men who go to war, men with their families, men who are executed, men who find their brothers’ lost animals, men in the town and in the field, in commerce and on the farm (and, unfortunately, men who are still being commanded to wipe out a nation, and this time, one that is not described as presenting any danger to Israel, only a bitter memory to her).
It deals with their bodily functions (semen, excretion).
It protects their genitals from being seized by an opponent’s wife
It addresses their sexual desires (eshet y’fat to’ar)
It regulates their treatment of their wives and children:
a. protecting the rights of inheritance of their first born sons;
b. establishing their control over their children’s behavior (even to the point of death, for boys, ben sorer umoreh, and for girls, if, upon marriage, it is discovered that they lost their virginity while still living at home)
c. setting a monetary value, to be given to their fathers, for the reputation of their daughters, if their daughters are unjustly defamed
d. setting a monetary value for their daughters’ virginity, to be paid to their fathers by the man who takes their virginity
e. establishing their right to get rid of undesirable wives for whatever reason – ervat davar
f. establishing, if they die without male heirs, their right to continuity by giving their widows to a yavam
Women are objects: a woman belongs either to her father or to her husband. They are given by their fathers to their husbands; when a man „takes“ her without her father’s permission, she must remain in this man's permanent possession. Women are acquired by sexual intercourse/rape. They are captured as booty in war. When a woman encounters her husband in a fight and tries to help him by grabbing his opponent’s testicles, her hand is cut off (her husband would not suffer this punishment). In each relationship that women find themselves, their tenuous status is underlined by concluding statements indicating under what circumstances they can be gotten rid of: if she is acquired according to procedure, she can be gotten rid of at whim, otherwise, only death, his or hers, will set her free.
In this parasha, women exist only in conjunction with their husbands and/or as sexual partners.
Whoops, there is one cause for celebration:
g. The parashah expects newlywed men to bring happiness to their wives for one year (good ol’ Deuteronomist!)
This is a man's world, but it wouldn't be nothing, nothing without a woman or a girl.
He's lost in the world of man (yesh omrim: in the wilderness); he's lost in bitterness.
James Brown/B. Newsome
I began this series of comments on Parashat Hashavua a few weeks ago while in western Germany, where the closest thing to a Torah commentary in the nearby Saarbruecken synagogue was a translation of the Bible... into Russian! I travel with CD ROM of basic sources, but it’s not that user-friendly, and was delighted to discover the same daf yomi website that Jerry Abrams mentioned a while ago, which included a livestreamed shiur in Haredi singsong that helped me with the Aramaic of Yevamot 78b-79a (on David and the Gibeonites)...I finally arrived this morning at a decent Jewish library in the Berlin JCC, and, after skimming through a good number of volumes, ranging from the Chofetz Chayim to Everett Fox, none of whom were addressing my concerns, I came across The Women’s Torah Commentary (ed. Elyse Goldstein) which hit the spot with Reconstructionist Rabbi Judith Gary Brown’s essay. Her opening paragraph reads as follows:
Parashat Ki Tetzey continues the enumeration of laws for the social well-being of Israel. In general, this parasha deals with laws that are focused on the private, inner workings of the Israelite community – specifically, who can be part of the community and how those within the community should interact with each other. But Ki Tetzey abounds with laws that truly challenge our women’s sensibilities.
Brown’s analysis focuses on 22:13-21, motsi shem ra, (or, to be exact, on the accused, rather than on the accuser). Below, I have outlined elements from this sugya and others in the parashah to show how great the challenge actually is. Meanwhile, allow me to bring Brown’s conclusion:
The rabbis of the talmudic period did progress to a somewhat more complex understanding of the role of women in society. Women were viewed less as objects and more as subjects in society. For example, in the case of rape, although the Bible provided only for the father receiving the bride-price of fifty shekels of silver (Deut. 22:28-29), the rabbis demanded that the rapist must also compensate the woman for her physical and psychological damage (Ketubot 43 a-b). And although, according to our biblical text, the rapist was compelled to marry the woman, under talmudic law, the girl could could refuse to marry the rapist (Ketubot 39b).
If we look to our texts as representative – evidence, if you will – of the development of our current social mores, we would see a progression towards our more balanced understanding of women’s and men’s roles in society. It is in this way that we can most powerfully experience the dynamic nature of our heritage. Our task, then, is to listen to the voice of history as we seek to uncover what the text is trying to tell us, and to honestly acknowledge our reactions to that text. We may not find the answers we want, but we will develop a better understanding of where we have been and how far we have traveled. And perhaps we will discover those who traveled this same path before us.
It is reassuring for me, as well, to discover those who travel the same path as I do.
Shabbat shalom,
Jeremy Milgrom
This is a Man’s World...
Ki Tetze is written for men. Men who go to war, men with their families, men who are executed, men who find their brothers’ lost animals, men in the town and in the field, in commerce and on the farm (and, unfortunately, men who are still being commanded to wipe out a nation, and this time, one that is not described as presenting any danger to Israel, only a bitter memory to her).
It deals with their bodily functions (semen, excretion).
It protects their genitals from being seized by an opponent’s wife
It addresses their sexual desires (eshet y’fat to’ar)
It regulates their treatment of their wives and children:
a. protecting the rights of inheritance of their first born sons;
b. establishing their control over their children’s behavior (even to the point of death, for boys, ben sorer umoreh, and for girls, if, upon marriage, it is discovered that they lost their virginity while still living at home)
c. setting a monetary value, to be given to their fathers, for the reputation of their daughters, if their daughters are unjustly defamed
d. setting a monetary value for their daughters’ virginity, to be paid to their fathers by the man who takes their virginity
e. establishing their right to get rid of undesirable wives for whatever reason – ervat davar
f. establishing, if they die without male heirs, their right to continuity by giving their widows to a yavam
Women are objects: a woman belongs either to her father or to her husband. They are given by their fathers to their husbands; when a man „takes“ her without her father’s permission, she must remain in this man's permanent possession. Women are acquired by sexual intercourse/rape. They are captured as booty in war. When a woman encounters her husband in a fight and tries to help him by grabbing his opponent’s testicles, her hand is cut off (her husband would not suffer this punishment). In each relationship that women find themselves, their tenuous status is underlined by concluding statements indicating under what circumstances they can be gotten rid of: if she is acquired according to procedure, she can be gotten rid of at whim, otherwise, only death, his or hers, will set her free.
In this parasha, women exist only in conjunction with their husbands and/or as sexual partners.
Whoops, there is one cause for celebration:
g. The parashah expects newlywed men to bring happiness to their wives for one year (good ol’ Deuteronomist!)
This is a man's world, but it wouldn't be nothing, nothing without a woman or a girl.
He's lost in the world of man (yesh omrim: in the wilderness); he's lost in bitterness.
James Brown/B. Newsome
Friday, August 17, 2007
Netivoteha Shalom on Shoftim: Not Leaving Well Enough Alone!
I'm happy to report that my week started well when I found the following piece in the weekly posting of My Jewish Learning, one which fits quite nicely into our effort:
But nothing could keep me from writing my own...
Shabbat shalom,
Jeremy Milgrom
Tzedek zedek tirdof is on everyone's short list of feel-good biblical quotes , running neck-and-neck with another Deuteronomic favorite, Uvaharta bahayim. Our verse goes there as well: l'ma'an tihyeh, and beyond, v'yarashta et haaretz asher Hasem elohecha noten lach. Justice, life, inheritance, God's beneficence, the land -- the complete package; who could ask for more?
Of course, this last phrase about the land, which God gives you, is shorthand for what has been spelled out over the last few weeks. A slighty fuller version would read, "which Hashem takes from them and gives you (a la R.Yitzhak's polemic quoted in Rashi's opening comment on Genesis 1:1 -- thank you, Stephan Parnas, for reminding me of it). And here the completeness of the blessing begins to unravel. The absence of the other is not just a matter of style: Deuteronomy states clearly that not only must he disappear in order for you to inherit the land; God makes your own survival, l'ma'an tihyeh, conditional on his disappearance. As opposed to Va'etchanan and Ekev, our parasha spares us the gory details, and employs the phrase the land which God gives you. This formulation (which appears frequently in Deuteronomy) lets us imagine that God will take care of things so that we won't have to get our hands dirty*.
One short phrase from the opening verse establishes the framework and sets out the goal of the entire parasha: v'shaftu et ha'am mishpat tzedek. That this is God's justice is clear from the mixture of juridical instructions and ritual matters in which the prohibition of idolatry is dominant. It is an uncompromising justice, in which the death penalty recurs almost like a refrain. Human beings are referred to here as ha'am, a collective which mostly connotes the mass that must be ruled via intimidation, v'chol ha'am yish'm'u v'yira'u, lest it become unruly. And it is exclusive to the extreme: ha'am means Israel but astonishingly covers everybody -- because the indigenous amim don't exist any longer.
Clearly, there are two ways of incorporating these verses in our lives: we can either stick to the ethnocentricity of the p'shat, and claim privilege, as some do, or we can claim the privilege of embracing and furthering the development of the ideas of justice and compassion which have been the pride of Judaism for the rest of us. Slowly (too slowly for many of us) but surely (an overstatement, without a doubt), the rabbis moved us away from absolutist, violent intolerance to humane, peaceful coexistance, as they:
-- understood that Joshua boldly modified the herem pronounced in our parasha (20:10-18) against the indigenous Canaanites;
-- cancelled the herem completely because of how Sennacherib shuffled the nations;
-- virtually eliminated the death penalty that was anyway not being applied;
-- and recognized Islam and Christianity as sister monotheistic religions.
These are just some of the stations along a road that has led us to a Judaism that is not set on warring against the world but rather believes in being a part of the human family.
Recognizing that tzedek tzedek tirdof was once less inclusive Jewishly than it is today means more than just adding a footnote on the page. It demands that we be aware of the natural tendency of human societies to wear blinders that cause us not to see the other, that limits our own beneficence to those most like ourselves. While it is painful for us to find such deficient notions of God in our sacred texts, it is sobering to realize that despite our superior perspective, we are no less likely to continue to maintain, in practice even if not in theory, a sad inheritance: the tradition of exclusion.
-------------------------
* interestingly, in Zionist parlance, "getting your hands dirty" can carry positive connotations: "The Zionist ideal was for Jews to return to the land. This didn't simply mean living in the land to extend the rule of their home countries (as colonists did across the world), it meant returning to the land in a far more literal sense - actually farming it and getting their hands dirty in person". (); I recall hearing a member of Peace Now speaking proudly of armed self-defence as a rightful act of getting ones hands dirty.
But nothing could keep me from writing my own...
Shabbat shalom,
Jeremy Milgrom
Tzedek zedek tirdof is on everyone's short list of feel-good biblical quotes , running neck-and-neck with another Deuteronomic favorite, Uvaharta bahayim. Our verse goes there as well: l'ma'an tihyeh, and beyond, v'yarashta et haaretz asher Hasem elohecha noten lach. Justice, life, inheritance, God's beneficence, the land -- the complete package; who could ask for more?
Of course, this last phrase about the land, which God gives you, is shorthand for what has been spelled out over the last few weeks. A slighty fuller version would read, "which Hashem takes from them and gives you (a la R.Yitzhak's polemic quoted in Rashi's opening comment on Genesis 1:1 -- thank you, Stephan Parnas, for reminding me of it). And here the completeness of the blessing begins to unravel. The absence of the other is not just a matter of style: Deuteronomy states clearly that not only must he disappear in order for you to inherit the land; God makes your own survival, l'ma'an tihyeh, conditional on his disappearance. As opposed to Va'etchanan and Ekev, our parasha spares us the gory details, and employs the phrase the land which God gives you. This formulation (which appears frequently in Deuteronomy) lets us imagine that God will take care of things so that we won't have to get our hands dirty*.
One short phrase from the opening verse establishes the framework and sets out the goal of the entire parasha: v'shaftu et ha'am mishpat tzedek. That this is God's justice is clear from the mixture of juridical instructions and ritual matters in which the prohibition of idolatry is dominant. It is an uncompromising justice, in which the death penalty recurs almost like a refrain. Human beings are referred to here as ha'am, a collective which mostly connotes the mass that must be ruled via intimidation, v'chol ha'am yish'm'u v'yira'u, lest it become unruly. And it is exclusive to the extreme: ha'am means Israel but astonishingly covers everybody -- because the indigenous amim don't exist any longer.
Clearly, there are two ways of incorporating these verses in our lives: we can either stick to the ethnocentricity of the p'shat, and claim privilege, as some do, or we can claim the privilege of embracing and furthering the development of the ideas of justice and compassion which have been the pride of Judaism for the rest of us. Slowly (too slowly for many of us) but surely (an overstatement, without a doubt), the rabbis moved us away from absolutist, violent intolerance to humane, peaceful coexistance, as they:
-- understood that Joshua boldly modified the herem pronounced in our parasha (20:10-18) against the indigenous Canaanites;
-- cancelled the herem completely because of how Sennacherib shuffled the nations;
-- virtually eliminated the death penalty that was anyway not being applied;
-- and recognized Islam and Christianity as sister monotheistic religions.
These are just some of the stations along a road that has led us to a Judaism that is not set on warring against the world but rather believes in being a part of the human family.
Recognizing that tzedek tzedek tirdof was once less inclusive Jewishly than it is today means more than just adding a footnote on the page. It demands that we be aware of the natural tendency of human societies to wear blinders that cause us not to see the other, that limits our own beneficence to those most like ourselves. While it is painful for us to find such deficient notions of God in our sacred texts, it is sobering to realize that despite our superior perspective, we are no less likely to continue to maintain, in practice even if not in theory, a sad inheritance: the tradition of exclusion.
-------------------------
* interestingly, in Zionist parlance, "getting your hands dirty" can carry positive connotations: "The Zionist ideal was for Jews to return to the land. This didn't simply mean living in the land to extend the rule of their home countries (as colonists did across the world), it meant returning to the land in a far more literal sense - actually farming it and getting their hands dirty in person". (); I recall hearing a member of Peace Now speaking proudly of armed self-defence as a rightful act of getting ones hands dirty.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Netivoteha Shalom on Re'eh: help complete the search for diamonds in Ir Hanidahat's rough
Mercifully (the parasha demands it) Short:
1. Sanhedrin 71a rules out the destruction of a Jewish city corrupted by idolatry when it declares:
עיר הנדחת לא היתה ולא עתידה להיות ולמה נכתבה? דרוש וקבל שכר
"Ir Hanidahat lo hayta v'lo atidah lihyot, v'lama nich't'va? drosh v'kabel sachar" ( v'idach, zil negotiate...)
2. God's promise to have mercy on Israel after they destroy the errant city (Deut. 13:18) is one of three verses that provide the basis for the statement in Yevamot 79a:
שלשה סימנים יש באומה זו: הרחמנים והביישנין וגומלי חסדים
רחמנים, דכתיב: ונתן לך רחמים ורחמך והרבך
ביישנין, דכתיב: בעבור תהיה יראתו על פניכם
גומלי חסדים, דכתיב: למען אשר יצוה את בניו ואת ביתו וגו
which establishes mercifulness, God-fearing bashfulness and generosity as Israelite/Jewish qualities
3. The passage in Yevamot deals with the story of David and the Gibeonites. I understand that Moshe Halbertal taught this sugya at the Hartman Institute a few weeks ago; does anyone have notes on his sessions?
Shabbat Shalom,
Jeremy Milgrom
1. Sanhedrin 71a rules out the destruction of a Jewish city corrupted by idolatry when it declares:
עיר הנדחת לא היתה ולא עתידה להיות ולמה נכתבה? דרוש וקבל שכר
"Ir Hanidahat lo hayta v'lo atidah lihyot, v'lama nich't'va? drosh v'kabel sachar" ( v'idach, zil negotiate...)
2. God's promise to have mercy on Israel after they destroy the errant city (Deut. 13:18) is one of three verses that provide the basis for the statement in Yevamot 79a:
שלשה סימנים יש באומה זו: הרחמנים והביישנין וגומלי חסדים
רחמנים, דכתיב: ונתן לך רחמים ורחמך והרבך
ביישנין, דכתיב: בעבור תהיה יראתו על פניכם
גומלי חסדים, דכתיב: למען אשר יצוה את בניו ואת ביתו וגו
which establishes mercifulness, God-fearing bashfulness and generosity as Israelite/Jewish qualities
3. The passage in Yevamot deals with the story of David and the Gibeonites. I understand that Moshe Halbertal taught this sugya at the Hartman Institute a few weeks ago; does anyone have notes on his sessions?
Shabbat Shalom,
Jeremy Milgrom
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