The Evil Inclination (Yetzer Hara)

"Inside every man there is a struggle between good an evil that cannot be resolved," exclaims Homer Simpson. This wisdom echoes rabbinic discussions in the Talmud about the יצר טוב (yetzer tov), our good inclination, and the יצר הרע (yetzer hara), our evil inclination. The Jewish tradition teaches us that God imbued humankind with a healthy balance of good and evil. Each proclivity cannot exist without the counterbalance of the other. While we might gravitate to work towards a world bereft of evil inclinations, the rabbis advise us otherwise:

אלולי יצר הרע לא בנה אדם בית ולא נשא אשה ולא הוליד בנים", were it not for the evil inclination, a person would not build houses, would not marry, and would not bear children (Bereshit Rabbah 9:7). 

A world without the yetzer hara's manifestations of competition, jealously, greed, sexuality, and anger also lacks the fundamental components of society: business, government, and procreation. Balance is the ideal, but we should never underestimate the power of the yetzer hara. Despite Homer Simpson's wise words about the coexistence of good and evil, he visualizes his evil inclination (Evil Homer) dancing over the tombstone of his yetzer tov (Good Homer), and shaking maracas singing: "I am Evil Homer, I am Evil Homer." The yetzer hara exists within all of us, and sometimes it flares up to tempt us into sinful action. 

No one is immune from the yetzer hara, not even the most righteous of rabbinic sages in the Talmud. In fact, the rabbis teach that the most prominent figures in society are the most susceptible. "כל הגדול מחבירו יצרו גדול הימנו, the greater the person, the greater the evil inclination (B. Sukkot 52a)." This principle emerges most prevalently in relation to sexual sin. In tractate Kiddushin, the rabbis relate a series of stories about famous rabbis whose evil inclinations for sexual lust nearly or actually overpower their yetzer tov (B. Kiddushin 81a-b). Each tale offers a moral about understanding the yetzer hara within us. 

- Rav Amram the Pious ascends a ladder* to proposition a group of beautiful women. Realizing he is about to give in to his temptation, he screams out "fire in the house of Amram!" By openly declaring his temptation, he is able to subdue his inclination, and create a group to support him in tempering his burning fire of lust. 

- Rabbi Akiva has a tendency to mock sinners (people who give into their yetzer hara), so Satan decides to test him. Satan transforms himself into a beautiful woman atop a palm tree* to lure Akiva. As Akiva begins to climb the tree, Satan releases him from his grip. The story teaches us not to belittle the power of the yetzer hara, for no one is immune from it.

- Chiyah Bar Ashi** would pray for God to save him from his sexual yetzer hara. His wife overhears his prayer. Although a husband is required to provide for his wife sexually every week, the text tells us that he had not done so in a number of years. Chiyah Bar Ashi's wife decides to dress up like the town's famous prostitute Charuta.*** In seducing her husband, she deceives him into believing that he committed adultery; she also teaches an important lesson. Complete repression of the yetzer hara leads to its explosive and sinful manifestation. 

We cannot escape the yetzer hara, nor should we try. God implanted within us both good and evil for a practical purpose. Life should be lived in a healthy balance of good and evil.  Rav Amram (the man on fire) teaches later in the Talmud that no single day can pass without a person considering sinful thought (B. Baba Batra 164b). The important thing is to act in ways that favor our yetzer tov, while letting our yetzer hara remain only as an unfulfilled propensity. 

Learn more about the Yetzer Hara at:

The Yetzer HaTov and the Yetzer HaRa Revisited

*The image of a ladder and the image of a palm tree appear to be sexual euphemisms for arousal. 

**The name used here puns on the yetzer hara being both animalistic and a burning fire. חיה–animal. אש– fire. 

*** The name חרותה, is another play on the idea of the yetzer hara being like fire. An English translation of this name might be "Hottie"

The Yetzer Hara and the Yetzer HaTov Revisited

One of the crowning achievements of Charles Darwin was the work on his theory of natural selection. According to Darwin, all animals in the world compete for resources, and only the fittest survive. Darwin believed that homo sapiens followed this same trend, and that in the struggle to survive, the strongest will always win. In such an arena of survival, ruthlessness  and individualism conquer kindness and selflessness.  But Darwin ran into a problem with applying this model to human beings, that is, all societies value altruism. Humanity esteems virtues of kindness, empathy, generosity, and humility––all vices when it comes to darwinian survival. Without moral virtues, we are just animals; and without primal instincts, we would all perish. 

For millennium Judaism has viewed the balance of being virtuous and primal in the dichotomy of our having what it calls a יצר הטוב yetzer hatov, and a יצר הרע yetzer hara. A literal translation of these competing proclivities would be a good inclination and an evil inclination. But the tension within humanity isn’t between good and evil, but rather between our moral inclinations and our animalistic ones. To this end, the rabbis often project the yetzer hara as some kind of animal or beast. One talmudic tale tells of the rabbis who try to subdue the yetzer hara, which comes to them in the form of a fiery lion (גוריא דנורא) from the Holy of Holies (Yoma 69b). In another talmudic parable, a man named Chiyah Bar Ashi חייה בר אשי suffers from a persistent yetzer hara. His very name means “Beast son of Fire (Kiddushin 81b).” Animals are not a metaphor for evil (רע, but for the primal nature of man that is amoral. 

 Our yetzer hatov and our yetzer hara are not just inherent to who we are, but both are blessings of God upon us. The question is asked by Rabbi Nachman ben Shmuel as to how we can possibly call our yetzer hara (our evil inclination) “good.” The answer, is that were it not for the primal inclinations within us, humanity wouldn’t build, marry, procreate, and engage in business. Greed, lust, and ego are potentially harmful forces, but God’s world needs them to endure (Genesis Rabbah 9:7). Similarly, we should not that in the above talmudic tale (Yoma 69b), when the yetzer hara manifests in the form a fiery lion, it emerges specifically from the Holy of Holies. That is, the yetzer hara is a manifestaion of holiness. While we might call these inclinations “evil,” they are necessary evils in this world that, when tempered, drive the success of civilization. When left unchecked by our moral compass, the excess of these qualities breeds crime, fraud, war, inequity, and injustice. What sets us apart from the animal kingdom is that only humans can employ a moral conscience (our yetzer ha tov) to supersede our base instincts (our yetzer hara)

We like to paint individuals––either in real life or in literature––as heroes or villains. Jewish wisdom teaches that we are neither good nor evil, but rather that both a yetzer hatov and a yetzer hara that exists within each and every one of us. When Dr. Henry Jekyll, in Robert Louis Stevenson’s “The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,” figures out how to separate his primal inclination and his moral inclination into two separate beings, he creates a monster on the one hand, and a feeble wimp on the other. Living a purposeful and meaningful life requires that we are driven by a healthy balance between our moral and primal natures. 

Do Looks Matter?

What measures of beauty do Jewish men value when choosing a prospective wife? Some might say that looks matter a great deal. Others might follow the conventional proverbial wisdom that  "beauty is in the eye of the beholder," or that  "true beauty is on the inside!" On Seinfeld, George Costanza's girlfriend Paula, once commented that: "looks aren't important to me." She goes on to tell George that: "You can wear sweatpants. You could drape yourself in velvet, for all I care!" Keeping in mind that beauty is a subjective measure, I would imagine that few men would dismiss physical beauty altogether. 

In the rabbinic world of the Mishnah and the Talmud, the rabbis tend to place particular emphasis on the  role of physical appearance. They exclusively limited beauty to the external body. It is taught in the Talmud that: "שלשה מרחיבין דעתו של אדם, אלו הן: דירה נאה, three things comfort a man, and they are: a beautiful abode, a beutiful bride, and beautiful vessels (B. Berachot 57b)." A beautiful wife, in this case, appears as an extension of a man's house.1 He appreciates her beauty in  the same way that he values the the aesthetic appeal of his property. Rabbi Chiya, a notoriously chauvinistic amora, argues that  women are nothing more than show pieces and baby makers.  

אין אשה אלא ליופי, אין אשה אלא לבנים . . .  אין אשה אלא לתכשיטי אשה . . . . הרוצה שיעדן את אשתו ילבישנה כלי פשתן

A wife is only for beauty, a wife is only to make children . . . and a wife is only for feminine adornments. He who wants to brighten his wife's countenance should clothe her in linen garments (B. Ketubot 59b).

In reading these statements centered on physical attractiveness, we might imagine that husbands chose their wives based almost solely on looks. Defective qualities in a woman included: moles, scars, and irregularities in a woman's breasts (B. Ketubot 75 a-b).2  A woman's character serves little purpose under this mindset. 

When the rabbis detailed their standards for beauty, marriages were arranged by the parents of each party. Men and women who had been fixed up scarcely knew their chosen partner, let alone had the opportunity to converse and get to know the other's inner qualities. This  system necessitated the judgement and consideration of a potential mate based on superficial qualities. For men, a mole mattered more than a kind heart because of the limited opportunity to interact with prospective brides.The culture of arranged marriages set the stage for a society that appreciated superficial and sometimes trivial attributes. 

Notwithstanding the seemingly antiquated rabbinic perception of beauty, one key story from the Mishnah might offer the modern Jew insight on this subject. In tractate Nedarim there is case of a man who vowed not to marry his niece because she was ugly. The story highlights that Rabbi Ishmael brought the girl into his house, and helped uncover her beauty so that the man would agree to marry her. After Ishmael asks the man whether he really vowed that he would not marry the girl, the man responds "no!" The story continues that: 

בְּאוֹתָה שָׁעָה בָּכָה רַבִּי יִשְׁמָעֵאל וְאָמַר, בְּנוֹת יִשְׂרָאֵל נָאוֹת הֵן אֶלָא שֶׁהָעֲנִיוּת מְנַוָולְתָן.

At the very same hour, Rabbi Ishmael cried out and said that "all the daughters of Israel are beautiful! It's only that poverty can make them look ugly [on the outside] (Nedarim 9:10). 

Rabbi Ishmael teaches us that all Jewish women possess attributes of beauty. These traits may or may not be outward because cultural destitution obscures them. Because Ishmael helped reveal the beauty of Jewish women in the world, we learn that: 

וּכְשֶׁמֵּת רַבִּי יִשְׁמָעֵאל הָיוּ בְּנוֹת יִשְׂרָאֵל נוֹשְׂאוֹת קִינָה וְאוֹמְרוֹת, בְּנוֹת יִשְׂרָאֵל אֶל רַבִּי יִשְׁמָעֵאל בְכֶינָה. 

When Rabbi Ishamel died, the daughters of Israel raised a lament and said: "The daughters of Israel weep for Rabbi Iishmael."

The honor due to Ishmael need not only come from the women of Israel. We might see Ishmael's lesson applied for all of humanity. God created all men and women in the image of God. Every individual is beautiful! While we often fail to see beyond the divides and exteriors that mask God's gifts to us, it is up to each person to help uncover the beauty that hides beneath the surface. In searching for love in the world, we might find beauty on someone's outside, but we should never forget to look deeper.

1. 

In rabbinic literature, a man's wife is, in fact, called "ביתו," his house. We learn in Yoma 1:1 that: "בֵּיתוֹ, זוֹ אִשְׁתּוֹ, when 'his house' is referenced, it refers to his wife."

2. 

Because men generally consider large breasts a mark of attraction, the Gemara asks the question: "ומי איכא כי האי גוונא, can such a thing really exist?" The rabbis answer "yes," and present the following hyperbole to demonstrate how such a condition might appear unattractive: "דאמר רבה בר בר חנה: אני ראיתי ערביא אחת, שהפשילה דדיה לאחוריה והניקה את בנה Rabbah bar bar Chanah reported that: I once saw an Arabian woman who slung her breasts behind her and nursed her son (Ketubot 75a)."

The Breakup (Gittin 90a-b)

The bonds that hold relationships and marriages together may seem strong, but sometimes they are more fragile than we are willing to admit.  In our society couples break up for a variety of well-founded reasons. For example: 

-  people fall out of love

- partners realize they are physically incompatible

- one's mental illness might drive the other away

- an individual might be physically abusive to his or her spouse

- one's addiction to drugs or alcohol might push away a partner

Yet trivial things also cause many relationships to end. We often let minor  traits, habits, and circumstances put a wedge between ourselves and our mates. Nothing demonstrates the nature of this culture better than Jerry Seinfeld, who parts ways from his girlfriends for an array of ridiculous reasons:

 - his girlfriend eats one pea at a time

- his friend George accidentally sees his girlfriend naked

- his girlfriend likes a cotton dockers commercial

- his parents like his girlfriend

- his girlfriend has "man-hands"

- his girlfriend is a "sentence-finisher"

Not surprisingly, Jerry never seems to be able to settle down and find the right woman. In the only instance where he finds a girl with whom he thinks he can spend the rest of his life, he breaks up with her because she is "too much like him!" If we follow Jerry's example of always looking for the better deal, we are likely to end up alone. On the other hand,  if we fail to cut the ties of a caustic relationship, we might become wed to misery. 

The Talmudin Gittin  90a-b offers some Jewish wisdom in a debate about what grounds warrant a man to divorce his wife. Hillel and Shamai frame this debate based on the following verse from Torah: 

כִּי-יִקַּח אִישׁ אִשָּׁה, וּבְעָלָהּ; וְהָיָה אִם-לֹא תִמְצָא-חֵן בְּעֵינָיו, כִּי-מָצָא בָהּ עֶרְוַת דָּבָר--וְכָתַב לָהּ סֵפֶר כְּרִיתֻת וְנָתַן בְּיָדָהּ

If a man takes a wife, and he eventually no longer finds her pleasing because of an adulterous matter, he writes her a bill of divorce and puts it into her hand (Deuteronomy 24:1)

The school of Shamai argues for a literal interpretation of the text, and teaches that a man can only divorce his wife on account of an adulterous matter. The school of Hillel, on the other hand, offers a more creative and interpretive reading of the text. Hillel plays on the seemingly superfluous word in the Torah "matter (דָּבָר)." He argues that the text is ambiguous so as to indicate that a man can divorce his wife either on account of adultery (עֶרְוַה), or simply because of any matter at all (דָּבָר). Hillel goes as far as saying that a man can divorce his wife for "burning or over-salting the food that she cooks for him (אפילו הקדיחה תבשילו)!" Seinfeld would appear to be a disciple of Hillel in regard to permissible reasons for ending relationships. 

The discussion in the Gemara ends by relating a parallel teaching intended to shape this whole debate. Rav Yochanan teaches that "שנאוי המשלח, the one who sends away his wife without a compelling reason is despised by God!" This opinion appears as somewhat of a middle ground between Shamai and Hillel. There will be reasons other than adulterous matters (ערוות דבר) that marriages should end, but the grounds for divorce should not be frivolous (like a wife who burns her husbands cooking). 

While Hillel and Shamai refer specifically to cases of matrimonial divorce, we might consider this lesson as a model for all romantic relationships. When we commit ourselves to another person, we invest our trust, our emotions, and our physical selves. Such a covenant leaves both parties emotionally and spiritually vulnerable. When we find it necessary to break up with our partners, let us not forget to do so with a heightened sensitivity to the feelings of our significant others.  Rav Elezar teaches us at the end of this section that"כל מגרש אשתו רשונה אפילו מזבח מורד עליו דמעות, when a man divorces his wife, he causes the Temple altar to be covered in God's tears." The spark of God exists within every friendship and relationship. When we dissolve the bonds that tie two people together, we extinguish that spark. In endingrelationships, we should do so with compassion, and not out of spite and levity. 

Finding Time for our Personal Pleasures

Partners in a marriage often share many activities in common. Mutual interests bring individuals together and forge the bonds of healthy and sustainable relationships. Couples who like outdoor activities grow closer by taking walks, cycling, going to the beach, etc.  Both my wife and I love good food, and we find cooking and fine diningt help strengthen our marriage. Yet couples need not do everything together, and in fact, it seems unhealthy to do so. Each partner has his or her own individual interests and pleasures which are often gender influenced. When one partner suppresses the other's personal passions, or even simple pleasures, the marriage will certainly suffer.

The Talmud discusses several cases in which a husband vows to deprive his wife of things and activities that she might enjoy and feel compelled to do. The Mishnah mandates an eventual divorce in each of these cases: 

המדיר את אשתו:

If one pronounces a vow that:

שלא תטעום אחד מכל הפירות

his wife should not taste any kind of fruit

שלא תתקשט באחד מכל המינין 

his wife should not adorn herself with any kind of perfume (or jewelry)

(B. Ketubot 70a)

שלא תלך לבית האבל או לבית המשתה

his wife should not go to the house of feasting (a wedding) or the house of mourning (to comfort mourners)

(B. Ketubot 71b)

In each of these cases, the husband must יוציא ויתן כתובה, divorce her and pay the sum of money he promised in the ketubah. In other words, such deprivation is considered so abusive that the rabbis instruct that the marriage needs to be dissolved. While the Talmud (written circa 500 CE) could not have imagined a case where the wife would have the power to deny similar pleasures to her husband, we should understand the text to imply a reciprocal mandate for modern times. Just as a husband needs to allow his wife certain pleasures, so too should a wife allow a husband time to engage in activities that nurture his sense of individuality. 

The love of two partners within a relationship hinges on their trust for one another, and support for each other's passions. The Gemara explains that a husband might prevent his wife from going to a wedding because it might be a place where we would find בני אדם פרוצין, promiscuous people. Such a vow against a wife exudes jealously and a lack of trust. We should perceive such a marriage as devoid of love, and therefore in need of divorce. When marriages and relationships are founded on mutual trust, we need not worry about what each individual does in their free time, and we need not be concerned about a wife who adorns herself in perfume (or by extension a man who puts on cologne.)

Aristotle famously commented that "the whole is greater than the sum of its parts." We might translate this to mean that a couple in unison is better than when the individuals who comprise it are single. Yet we should remember that the vitality of a relationship depends on the individuality of each partner. In nurturing our sense of self in a relationship, we strengthen the bonds we have with our partners. 

It's a Must Lie Situation

We grow up learning that honesty always trumps lying. When we begin to mature, we discover nuanced situations where a little white lie is more honorable than the truth. Seinfeld describes this as a "must lie situation," a time when avoiding the truth causes no damage, whereas honesty can come off as offensive or hurtful. In the Seinfeld episode "The Hamptons," Jerry and Elaine meet their friends' baby and find that he is "one ugly baby." When the parents inquire: "isn't he gorgeous?" Jerry and Elaine find that they are confronted by a "must lie situation;" wincing in comical disgust, Jerry fibs: "so very gorgeous!" 

The Torah teaches that we should "distance ourselves from lies (Exodus 23:7)," but what happens when like Jerry and Elaine we find ourselves in a situation where a white lie  is seemingly necessary? Unsure whether the idea of a white lie is even tenable, the rabbis in the Talmud debate whether complete honesty is the best policy. 

Shamai and Hillel––the two classical contending talmudic foes––debate this issue by posing the following question in the second chapter of Ketubot (16b-17a): What do you say to the bride at the time of dancing at a wedding? They add that we are talking about a bride who has some sort of physical defect like a limp leg or a blind eye (הרי שהיתה חיגרת או סומא). 

Shamai says:  כלה כמות שהיא , praise her as she actually is. This is to say that you should avoid mentioning any blemish and try to praise something about her that is worthy of praise (perhaps her shoes)

Hillel on the other hand would be in agreement with Seinfeld in that "it's a must lie situation!"

Hillel says:  כלה נאה וחסודה, in all cases, tell her that she is a beautiful and graceful bride. Brides dress up and adorn themselves in jewelry with the expectation that they will receive praise from their wedding guests;  it is therefore an implicit obligation of those around her to make her feel the way that she wants to feel. In the same way, Jerry and Elaine saw it fitting to answer the parents of the ugly baby with an answer that they wanted to hear. 

The discussion about this scenario centers on two values which appear at odds with one another: honesty and graciousness. In the end, the rabbis (as per usual) side with Hillel and prefer that one tell a white lie to be gracious rather than tell the truth and be rude. The sages conclude that:  לעולם תהא דעתו של אדם מעורבת עם הבריות, a person's mind should always be attune with people. Giving someone an unfitting compliment about a quality that they see in themselves should be considered an act of compassion. But in the end, whether or not it's  appropriate to do so depends on the person and the situation. 

The In-Laws

Why was the Garden of Eden called Paradise? Because neither Adam nor Eve had in-laws!

Growing up watching sitcoms, I observed that the biggest nemesis to a sitcom spouse is his or her mother in-law. These yentas  always find ways to crawl under the skin of their sons and daughters in-law, criticizing cooking, making off-color comments, and suggesting that they are not quite good enough to be in the family. The main take away from this culture: stay as far away as possible from your in-laws' house! The Talmud advises otherwise!

In chapter five of Masechet Ketubot, the topics focus on vows that a husband might make concerning his wife; in Ketubot 71b, the Mishnah describes the scenario of המדיר את אשתו שלא תלך לבית אביה...  A husband who vows that[he and] his wife will not go visit his in-laws

The Mishnah condemns any such statement, and encourages a husband to permit his wife to visit her parents at least once a month if they live in the same city. And if they reside in different cities, at least on one of the three annual festivals (Shavuot, Sukkot, and Passover). 

The legal discussion seems to be driven by the age-old aversion of husbands to see their in-laws. Despite a husband's protest, the Jewish tradition here emphasizes the importance of a wife being allowed to visit her parents on a regular basis. The rabbis viewed  prolonged deprivation of familial love as a cruel act that warrants divorce. 

The issue of parental visitation might not serve as grounds for divorce nowadays, but it surely matters in regard to healthy relationships. As a recently married couple, Stephanie and I have already worked out a system for splitting up the holidays. We visit her family for Thanksgiving and Hannukah (and whenever we happen to be in the Boston area), and my family for Passover, and for regular dinners (we live about 25 minutes away). Despite our seemingly workable system, visits to our respective in-laws can be emotionally taxing. 

Stephanie and I both enjoy our own respective family dynamics, but it's sometimes hard to fully appreciate each others. In my own life, my parents have proven that in-laws become an important part of their partners' lives. I watch as my mother treats my paternal grandfather Poppi with the same love and care that she treated her own father. This is the kind of ideal relationship to which I think the Mishnah is hinting!  

Family Time (Ketubot 62b)

Family Time (Ketubot 62b)

We live in a world today where professionals spend more time at the office than at home with their families. Some of us may at least have weekends with our loved ones, while others dedicate even the hours of Shabbat to their work. This epidemic of distance from the people we ought to be with most often is nothing new. While at one point in time, the work days were shorter, finding family time has always been an issue. As I transition from rabbinical student to rabbi, I too will be confronting the issue of family time more deeply. Any congregation that I may serve will demand a great deal of my day. Designating time with my family will need to be one of my utmost priorities. 

In previous discussions, I have pointed out that the rabbis of old suggested that wives prefer intimate time with their husbands over a higher paying career. I also mentioned that for students of Torah who recieve their wives' permission to go off and study,  Rav Yochanan (30-90 CE) recommend that they spend two months at home for every month that they are away. In Ketubot 62b, the Gemara goes onto suggest another point of view. Despite the wise advice of Rav Yochanan, Rav Adda bar Ahava (c. 300 CE)  rebuffs that students of Torah in his time can spend two or three years away from home when they have their wives' permission (1).  Commenting on this work-centered mentality, the Gemara adds an interesting note:  

ועבדי עובדא בנפשייהו

We might translate this literally to mean: "They did this on their own accord (ועשו מעשה בעצמם)." Yet Rashi offers a compelling explanation of the word בנפשייהו based on the subsequent aggadah (lore) that follows. Rashi suggests that "והוא בא להם ליטול מהם נפשות, שנענשים ומתים, they went and did this at the expense of their own lives, knowing that they would be punished with death." Essentially, students of Talmud in Babylonia put their work before their families knowing that they or their loved ones might receive a death sentence.  

To illustrate this, the Talmud recounts aggada (lore)  that teaches us about the repercussions of putting our work before our family.  In the first instance, a scholar puts off sexual relations with his bride so that he can become a learned scholar; his punishment is coming home to a wife too old to have children. The punishment of death is thus rendered on the life of his potential child. In another story, Rav Chananya the son of Chachinai studies for twelve years in the academy without returning home. When his wife finally lays her eyes on him, her excitement causes her heart to give out. Rav Chama bar Bisa, who similarly went away to study for twelve years, happens to sit and study with his son Rav Oshaya at the yeshiva without recognizing the grown face of his boy. 

The gist is simple and clear: despite our cultural tendencies towards being overworked, we ought to remember that family comes first! If we fail to find time for our family, we may not be punished with death, but we may find our relationships fractured, our families less healthy, and our lives bereft of love. 

(1) While the Vilna Shas notes that this is said in the name of Rav, the texts of Rosh and Ran omit the word   אמר רב (in the name of Rav). Further evidence that the original text was likely not in Rav's name can be found earlier in the Gemara, where Rav recommends that for every month away at study, a student should spend one month at home. 

Intimacy versus Wealth

Amidst a discussion about the frequency in which a man must be intimate with his wife, the Gemara in Ketubot 62b introduces a scenario that seems relevant to modern marital issues. Recalling my previous post, the required amount in which a man is required to satisfy his wife depends on his occupation. A sailor, who leaves home on long voyages must be with his wife once every six months, as opposed to a common worker, who is prescribed a biweekly trip into the bedroom (once a week if he commutes to a different locale). Rabbah bar Rav Chanan poses the case of a donkey driver (חמר) (required to be intimate once a week) who wants to change his profession and become a camel driver (גמל) (required to be intimate with his wife only once a month). While a camel driver makes significantly more money than a donkey driver, the change in profession would cause the husband to be away from his wife for more extended periods of time. This situation would decrease the frequency of conjugal cohabitation that she is used to. So, asks Rabbah bar Rav Chanan, what should the husband do?

Chris Rock, one of my favorite comedians, actually answers this question in one of his standup routines. He generalizes in his typical vulgar yet comically astute way, that "men cannot go backwards sexually, while women cannot go backwards in lifestyle." In an illustration similar to an aggadic tale, Rock instructs his female audience to consider the following in their lives: "Remember the first time you dated a guy with a car? You were leaving the club, your girlfriends got on the bus . . . and you were like 'I'm getting in this warm-@&& car.'" From that moment on, Rock says, you will never date another guy unless he has a car (This is a much cleaned up account of the story he tells). Women, according to Rock, are reluctant, or flat out unable to, tone down their lifestyles once they have become accustomed to luxuries. It is men, he goes on to point out, that cannot go backwards in their habits of sexuality. 

Abaye (ca. 278 C.E. – 338 C.E.), a Babylonian sage, understands the desires of women differently than Rock. In Abaye's view, women value תִּיפְלוּת (tiflut)–– a word that Rashi describes as the act of a man being intimate with his wife––over material goods. He surmises that: 

רוצה אשה בקב ותיפלות מעשרה קבין ופרישות

A women would prefer one kav  (an implied measure of material wealth) and intimacy over ten kabin and being separated from their husbands. 

Accordingly, women can not go backwards intimately. A man should avoid changing his profession to one that will keep him away from his wife, even if he would make more money.  

So who's right, Chris Rock or Abayye? It seems to me that אלו ואלו דברי אמת, both words have truth to them. Whenever there are two things that appear to contradict each other, the Gemara make sure to explain how לא קשיא, there is no contradiction. Here too, it seems, לא קשיא, there is no contradiction. Chris Rock's comical observations possess truth, but lack depth.  In speaking to the יצר הרע, the evil inclinations within us, he makes us laugh. The יצר הרע for  women is the material world, whereas for  men it is sexuality. Rock's comedy speaks to our thoughts, but not the way we act, or at least not the way that we ought to act. 

Abaye, to the contrary, speaks words of wisdom. He directs his comment at our יצר טוב, our good inclinations. True and sustainable happiness in his view comes not with wealth, but with intimacy. A woman might be entertained by money, but she is only satisfied fully with the love and attention of her husband.

Traveling Away For the Sake of Torah (Ketubot 61b-62a)

The discussion in the section of Talmud that I read this week (Ketubot 61b-62a) centers on a rather sexually explicit subject. In preparing to study this page of text with my father–– who is my

chevrutah

partner––I felt catapulted back into the days of yore whenhe attempted to impart upon me his words of wisdom concerning the birds and the bees. Thankfully our analysis and debate concerning the text was a little less awkward. 

In my last post, I discussed the responsibilities that a wife has to her husband. They included: nursing, making the bed, working wool, grinding (flour and corn), baking bread, washing clothing, and cooking. This week, the rabbis begin by describing the responsibilities that a husband has to his wife. The Mishnah starts by laying out his sexual obligations. It is important to note that it seems rather clear that we are talking specifically about sexual pleasure, and not about sexual reproduction.  There is, of course, some disagreement as to how often a man is obligated to be intimate with his wife. The House of Hillel (the dominant strand of rabbinic learning) says that in general, a man has the obligation to fulfill his sexual duty weekly. The House of Shamai (the weaker strand of rabbinic learning) argues that he need only satisfy her every other week. Depending on one’s profession, however, there are exceptions to the rule:

- טיילין (those who are unemployed)- every day, or more likely suggesting every time his wife desires him

- פועלים (workers)- twicea week

- חמרים (donkey drivers)- once a week

- גמלים (camel drivers)- once a month

- ספנים (sailors)- once every six months

Students of Torah, the Mishnah proclaims, can leave for up to a month without the permission of their wives. During that time, we can assume that a student of Torah would have no sexual obligations to his wife. The frequency of sexual relations listed in the Mishnah appears to suggest more than carnality. The type of jobs that enable a husband to extend his sexual absence from his wife are also the careers that implicitly cause him to be physically displaced. Intimacy is about being present  emotionally as much as, if not more than,  it involves intercourse. 

It just so happens that this summer I have traveled down to Philadelphia for seven weeks in order to work at Congregation Rodeph Shalom. I left my bride-to-be for the sake of professional development in the field of Torah! As a rabbinical student (I think I would fall under the category of student of Torah ), I am permitted to make such a trip of professional development with Stephanie's permission.  

The discussion in the Gemara concerning such a leave from a wife seems all too relevant in my case (even though I am not yet married). The choice to leave for seven weeks in the summer leading up to our wedding was not an easy one. Even Jewish law would suggest that such a trip violated my duties to my future spouse if I failed to obtain her permission. Of course, I would not dream of making such a deicison without Stephanie's blessing. Yet even the Gemara recommends that certain steps be taken when one has his wife's permission, so as to ensure that the relationship remains healthy. 

The rabbis pose the question: "ואורחא דמילתא כמה, how long is it proper to leave if he has her permission?" Rav, one of the most famous rabbinical authorities, states that with his wife's permission, he should spend one month home in between every month that he is away. Rav Yochanan goes one step further in suggesting that he should spend two months home in between every month that he is away. The Gemara notes that the latter opinion should be taken as the norm, whereas the opinion of Rav only in cases of necessity. According to this cycle, Torah should never take a student away from his wife for more time than he is at home.

After all, intamcy between a man and his wife is more than just sex, and cannot be accomplished through periodic visists home.

The rabbis elevate the importance of healthy relationship even over the study of Torah. 

Shortly after Stephanie and I started dating, I moved to Cincinnati while she remained in New York. We maintained a long-distance relationship for about a year before I moved back. This was no doubt a trying time in our relationship, especially because it was so young at that point. Had the 600 mile buffer between us extended past that academic year, I'm not so sure that our relationship would have lasted.  This time, we are taking the advice of the rabbis and trying to maintain the distance by periodically visting each other on the weekends. In my life, my resonsibilitiy to upholding our relationship takes precidence over my professional career as a future rabbi (Torah student).

Questions for Thought and Commenting Upon:

How have you preserved the intimacy in your relationship in times of physical seperation?

How frequently do you think a couple needs to see each other in order to maintain their relationship?

Does a man have more responsibility to his wife's sexual needs than she does to his? 

A Woman's Responsibilities in Marriage (Ketubot 59b-60a)

In less than four months, I will be a married man! The thought of this serious life change both excites me and scares me. In many ways, I think my relationship with my fiancée Stephanie will remain the same. After all, we already have lived together for about two years. Yet the spiritual bond that will link us as we "tie the knot" will transform both of us in ways that I can only imagine. Our marriage will bring not only a Facebook status change, but a spiritual, social, and legal changing of our identities. We will each have new responsibilities toward one another, and toward our family unit (which will hopefully grow).

Today I studied the rabbinic perception of a woman's responsibilities toward her husband. To put it mildly, times have changed, especially for progressive Jews like myself who view a woman's role in a marriage as more or less equal (but perhaps different) to that of her husband. Talmudic viewpoints (ranging in this discussion from about 100 CE to 500 CE) offer a more "traditional" model for the functions of a woman. I would deem the views of some of sages as chauvinistic to say the least. Rabbi Hiyya, for example, suggests that wives function merely as showpieces for their husbands. In disagreeing with the majority, he argues "אין אשה אלא ליופי, women are only for their beauty." To this end, the woman's role visa vis her husband is only to gladly recieve the jewlery that her husband adorns her with. Yet just as modern American Jews tend to frown on trophy wives, so too did the rabbinic sages reject Hiyya's relegation of woman as mere objects of beauty. The main part of the talmudic discussion focuses on the active role woman should play in a marriage.

The Suggya (passage) in Ketubot 59b opens with a discussion from the Mishnah (compiled in about 200 CE), an early Jewish legal compendium upon which later sages (200-500 CE) will comment. The Mishnah lists seven primary responsibilities a woman has toward her husband:

• טוחנת- grinding (flour or corn)
• אופה– baking bread
• מכבסת– laundering the clothing
• מבשלת– cooking
• מניקה nursing the children
• מצעת לו המטה – making the bed
• עושה בצמר– working with wool

Clearly, I will not be expecting Stephanie to grind her own flour. Even the later rabbinic sages appear surprised to think that would be a realistic responsibility. They exclaim: "טוחנת סלקא דעתך, Can it even enter your mind that a wife actually grinds grain?" By the same token, we would likely not expect wives today to work with wool and make clothing for their grooms. The issue of nursing raises a rabbinic debate that resembles the recent shocking Time Magazine cover asking "Are You Mom Enough?," and explicitly showing a five year old child sucking from his mother's breast. Like the provocative article, the rabbis discuss the age at which it becomes inappropriate to continue nursing. Rabbi Eleazar suggests that "an infant can continue nursing until 24 months." Anything after that, he declares שקץ (sheketz), an abominable thing. Rabbi Yehoshua, by contrast, argues that a child can be nursed up to four or five years!  The debate about breastfeeding evokes a heated debate among the rabbis. They continue to quibble over the finer points of permisssability and social acceptability of all sorts of nursing issues. Reflecting on back on all the conversations that Stephanie and I have had together, I don't think we have ever once discussed whether she will breast feed our children, and the appropriate amount of time to do so (God willing we have a few). Is this a normal conversation for couples to have before they enter into a marriage? Will the topic spark as much debate within our household as it does in the Gemara? The Shulchan Aruch, the definitive code of Jewish law (written by Joseph Karo in the 16th Century), decrees that we should follow Eliezer's suggestion of two years, and continue up to four or five as Yehoshua rules, only if the child is sick (Yoreh Deah 81:7). This sounds like a rather reasonable proposition.


The one task on the list of rabbinicly perscribed wifely responsibilities that I will delegate exclusivly to Stephanie is the making of the bed. Since we first started dating, I have been keenly aware that Stephanie requires  perfectly made up sleeping quarters. Every morning she ornatly makes hosptial corners on the sheets, lines the blanket and comforter up perfectly, and stacks the pillows in a very specific arangement. Since we moved in together, I have attempted to make the bed several times only to find that she would remake it. My efforts to learn her bed-making routine have been to no avail. I have given up in this regard, and will leave her to this rabbinically mandated responsibility.

While only women posses the biological capability to nurse children, in todays time the remaining list of duties can be shared or delegated to a third party. We can and should reinterpret this list of responsibilities as contemporary discussion points for the roles and obligations we carry into our relationships.