Rashi on Shaving: Ki Teitzei

I used to sit down, every week, in a coffee shop, and read the weekly Torah portion (aka parshah). I'd make notes in a notebook, which I still have, and then write up a blog post with some semblance of my thoughts made coherent. That ritual began when I was living in Washington D.C. in 2006, and it continued well into 2008 before I moved to Connecticut. But when I moved to Connecticut, I got busy with school and my weekly parshah study was replaced largely by my academic probes that translated into personal discovery with Talmudic and midrashic study, as well as Hebrew.

Something Elul has me thinking about and reflecting on is my devotion to weekly, if not daily, Torah study. Or examining the halachos or some other aspect of this Jewish life I carry so proudly. Thus, I give you, some thoughts on just a bit of the upcoming parshah, Ki Teitzei. 

(Deuteronomy 22:5, with Rashi commentary from Chabad.org)

5. A man's attire shall not be on a woman, nor may a man wear a woman's garment because whoever does these [things] is an abomination to the Lord, your God.

ה. לֹא יִהְיֶה כְלִי גֶבֶר עַל אִשָּׁה וְלֹא יִלְבַּשׁ גֶּבֶר שִׂמְלַת אִשָּׁה כִּי תוֹעֲבַת יְי אֱלֹקיךָ כָּל עֹשֵׂה אֵלֶּה:

A man’s attire shall not be on a woman: making her appear like a man, thereby enabling her to go among men, for this can only be for the [purpose of] adultery. — [Nazir 59a]

לא יהיה כלי גבר על אשה: שתהא דומה לאיש כדי שתלך בין האנשים, שאין זו אלא לשם ניאוף:

nor may a man wear a woman’s garment: to go and abide among women. Another explanation: [In addition to not wearing a woman’s garment,] a man must also not remove his pubic hair or the hair of his armpits [for this is a practice exclusive to women]. — [Nazir 59a]

ולא ילבש גבר שמלת אשה: לילך ולישב בין הנשים. דבר אחר שלא ישיר שער הערוה ושער של בית השחי:

because … is an abomination: The Torah forbids only [the wearing of] clothes that would lead to abomination [i.e., immoral and illicit behavior]. — [Nazir 59a]

כי תועבת: לא אסרה תורה אלא לבוש המביא לידי תועבה:

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Okay. What struck me about this particular verse is that it relates that a woman shouldn't wear the article, or as it is understood, clothing item, that belongs to a man, while a man shouldn't wear "a woman's dress" is what it says specifically. Does that rule out bras? I'm joking, of course. The reason for this command, according to the text, is that it is an abomination. Rashi understands this to be because it would lead a man or woman to commit adultery. The modern and commonplace act of wearing pants and button-downs among women aside, how does Orthodoxy understand this?

Women in the Orthodox community wear skirts, by and large, wear skirts, so pants aren't an issue. But what about shirts that could be understood as men's clothing. A button-down, for example. The "boyfriend tee" as many places call it. A simple, classic, professional button-down shirt, skirt or not ... would it make Rashi shudder? 

And how do we view the man who wears a skirt on Purim for kicks and giggles -- is it in the spirit of this simple command not to don the dress of a woman? You won't find too many women in the Orthodox community donning full male attire for Purim (that whole skirt thing, of course), but men. Men wear dresses and skirts and get their hilarity on with ease. What validates this, considering this command from Deut. 22:5? It does seem, at the end, with Rashi, that only if the act of wearing a skirt or men's button-down would lead to "immoral and illicit behavior" is it an abomination. The assumption, however, is that the clothing itself will result in an abomination (no free choice?), so donning it isn't even an option or consideration. Or, rather, it shouldn't be. The point: No good can come from wearing the clothing traditionally worn by the opposite sex, so don't do it. Stam. 

What I'm really taken with, I will say, is the mention of how women remove their pubic and armpit hair. I was always under the impression that this was very much a 20th-century thing to do, a modern insecurity with the hair of our bodies. Now I have to wonder whether this was a normative activity even back in the 11th century. It seems strange to me, considering how difficult it must have been to shave back in the day. There weren't easy-to-use BIC razors, after all. No bikini-line razors and what have you. Definitely no Nair. Does anyone have a good history of shaving (for women, that is, I know Alexander the Great made a big to-do out of being clean-shaven; way to go Alexander!)?

I'm sure there are plenty of interesting and curious aspects of this simple verse from this week's Torah portion that I'm missing, so feel free to share what you see in it, or what you think about this whole "women dressing as men" and "men dressing as women" command. It's such a strange and unusual concept to us in the 21st century, even within the Orthodox community where women wear skirts and head coverings and men sport suits on their way to shul. I wonder what this verse will mean to us in 100 years? 500 years? What happens when we all go Star Trek and wear body suits? 

Thoughts a'plenty over here!

Rashi's Daughters, revisted.

Okay, okay. Let me explain myself.

In this post, I issued my irritation at the perpetuation of Rashi's daughters as a true, factual set of events in history, whereas in truth it is merely a legend developed with no factual documentation beyond it's first appearance in the 18th century. However, I never said that there are no factual instances of women donning tefillin or studying Talmud or being learned in the ways of halakah or Judaism.

There are many instances of this, including that Michal, daughter of King Saul, donning tefillin. In Eruvin in the Talmud there is also notation that "Michal daughter of Kushi wore tefillin and the sages did not protest." Likewise, the wife of Chaim ibn Attar and the Maiden of Ludmir (19th century) also were known to have practiced this mitzvah.

To be sure, tefillin is not prohibited for women. You see, it's a time-bound mitzvah to which women are not held. However, this does not necessarily mean it is prohibited. Some sages, including Rashi and the Rambam said that it was completely acceptable, but that women were not to say the b'racha (blessing), because the "who has commanded us" would not apply. Specifically, the Rambam says, "Women, slaves, and minors are exempt from tzitzit from the Torah ... women and slaves who want to wrap themselves in tzitzit may do so without a berakha. And so too with other such mitzvot from which women are exempt: if they want to perform them without a berakha, one does not protest" (Hilkhot Tsitsit 3:9).

My point in all of this is that there is a difference between historical documentation of women -- plain or semi-important or even great women -- donning tefillin or writing responsa or studying Talmud and Rashi's daughters doing these things. Why is this? Well, Rashi is perhaps one of the greatest Jewish thinkers of all time, and I don't think anyone would disagree with me there. There is much more weight, as such, put into the stories of his daughters being this great liberating, free thinking women of the 11th century than of perhaps any other women of the 11th century doing these things. It's about influence, reputation.

In all things we seek out the best, most reliable source of information if we are preparing to do something. It is why there is a ladder, so to speak, in just about every aspect of life. We seek out the most reliable mechanic on how to fix our cars, we go to the best doctors we can find to seek the best treatment for our ailments, we take our ques from those with the best reputation and we rely on them to not lead us astray.

Hopefully this makes sense. I am not rallying for or against women donning tefillin, really. It isn't for me, but I appreciate that it is completely permissible for women to do so. I just think that when the debates arise about women studying Talmud or doing nontraditional (for women) mitzvot, it shouldn't always come back to "Well, Rashi's daughters did it!" because we know that this has no factual history to it before the 18th century -- hundreds of years after the fact.

I do agree, though, with those supporters of the Rashi's daughters legend, that Rashi's daughters are important and significant in the history of Jewish women, it gives us inspiration and hope, but I just want it to be clear in the same vein, that this is a legend and like all great legends, there is room for error.

As David Mikkelson, who runs snopes.com, once said, "...our willingness to accept legends depends far more upon their expression of concepts we want to believe than upon their plausibility."

A tiny kvetch.

I just found out there's another Rashi's daughter book coming out, this time it's for children ages 9-12. It's just perpetuating this unproven myth of Rashi's daughters. I mean, sure it's empowering, but it's also falsely used all the time as a reason for various things.

Why does it rub me the wrong way so much? No clue. I mean, shouldn't I be all about woman empowerment and women studying Talmud and donning tefillin? I suppose I should. I just wish people would stop using Rashi's daughters as the almighty truth and proof of such things when there isn't a single shred of evidence that they did any of those things.

Legends and myths are powerful things. Word of mouth has given us some of the most beautiful pieces of literature and history and religion that we know. But meh. This one just irks me since no one seems to know that it's all legend and no fact.

On the Way into Work.

I'd like to think that my morning was my "Big Fat Jewish Morning."

I got on the train and after being thrown around by this woman with too many bags with too many things protruding from them. At about the third stop a man gets on, full beard and had, and my initial instinct was that he was probably Orthodox or the like. I notice a few stops later that he's reading a little maroon book that says "RASHI" on the cover with some Hebrew. I really wanted to strike up a conversation, but I didn't really know what to say to him. I didn't want to sound like a moron -- "Oooh! I love Rashi, too!" Obviously he is a learned man, reading Rashi on the El. So I sort of tried to figure out what he was reading and kept looking over his shoulder. I'm sure he caught me staring, but it was the ONE morning I wish I had had one of my many Jewish texts with me that I'm in the middle of. Instead, I had a book of NYT crossword puzzles, inspired by the movie "Wordplay." What he had, as I have searched tirelessly to discover, is the Sapirstein Edition of the Torah with Rashi's commentary (in the softcover, though). So guess what Chavi wants and is now going to try to locate? You betcha. I never did talk to the guy, despite sitting next to him later on the bus. I did, however, pull up this week's portion on my BlackBerry and as I sat there reading it, thought: It's like two very different generations of Jews right here on this bus on the south side. One with a long beard, black hat, and a paperback copy of the Rashi commentary and a brieface, and a girl with a short, spiky cut wearing a T-shirt, jeans and chucks and reading Torah online.

Then I got to campus and no kidding it seemed like every third person I walked past had on kippot and tzitzit.

I tried to take it as a sign that I needed to find my zen moment as I approached work. The bliss of being surrounded by Jews and Judaism quickly turned though and I now feel sick to my stomach.

The horror of this job never ends. I feel like I should write a tell-all article and submit it to some major publication to express how horrible the person I work for truly is -- that it isn't just a rumor. But I know how horrible that would be of me. Believe me, I'll pray for the person who has to take over this job.

I give you, the fish.

Here's the fish (the photo is cloudy for some reason). For some reason he is lingering at the bottom of the tank. I checked the water temperature, and it's solid, so I'm not sure what's going on, but I wanted a happy active fish, and this fish is not happy active. Part of me wonders if the filter's stream is too powerful, though I even have it on low. At least he's not dead yet!

Oh, and his name? Well, no one guessed it ... but several frequent readers didn't even offer up a guess! But oh well. I tell you now, that my little fishy's name is RASHI! This, of course, is in honor of the great sage Rabbi Isaac ben Salomon, a medieval scholar who I'm absolutely fascinated with. And that's that! Here be the fishy.


Also, I want to say thank you to everyone who has posted on my last entry. I haven't had the oomph to answer any of the queries or thoughts yet, but again I thank you for the sincerity and take on the situation.

Shalom!

We're taking our time.

I haven't disappeared. I haven't stopped reading Torah or going to synagogue or being who I am.

I have many drafts written that haven't been posted. Many of them become outdated and sit in my blogger account. I had one about the parshah Emor and how if you flip the letters around you get Omer! How appropriate for Emor to be during the Omer. And other things. Important things. Pertinent things.

I find myself reading a lot more. I'm trying to get through Rashi by Maurice Liber. I've been reading a variety of articles and just finished one about the reception of Rashi's take on Adam having "intercourse" with all the beasts before the advent of Eve. I'm poking around at a paper about Maimonides and another about reading R. Gershom. The bonus to working at a university is the free access to billions of journals and texts online :) I'm horribly spoiled!

Ian and I are filling out the papers to join a temple here in Chicago. It will be my first "paid" membership to a synagogue. In Lincoln my membership to B'Nai Jeshurun (South Street Temple) was taken care of because I was (a) a student and (b) did the temple newsletter. It's strange to actually become a card carrying member of a synagogue, especially one that is so incredibly large. The sanctuary is THE most beautiful one I've ever been in. The building is built in the same style as B'Nai Jeshurun, which is a relief. I "grew up" in the byzantine style, which I find the most beautiful and Jewish. The temples that are built in the style of churches put me off, and this is the first place I've ever felt at home. The thing I'm looking most forward to? Volunteering! Adult education! Activities! Community!

So yes, things are starting to come together. Baruch HaShem!

Some additions to Yitro.

I neglected to consult Rashi yesterday re: the parshah. So I was poking around on Chabad.org today (they do this really nice split screen bit with Rashi's commentary and the parshah). Of course Etz Chayim included some Rashi commentary, but not the GOOD stuff.

For example, I queried why the first portion of Yitro expresses multiple times that Jethro is Moses's father-in-law. As if one or two times weren't enough, it's restated five times in the first seven verses. Rashi's commentary:

Moses’ father-in-law. Here Jethro prides himself on [his relationship to] Moses, [saying,] “I am the king’s father-in-law.” In the past, Moses attributed the greatness to his father-in-law, as it is said: “Moses went and returned to Jether, his father-in-law” (Exod. 4:18). ... the text is speaking of Jethro’s praise, that he lived amidst the greatest honor of the world, but his heart prompted him to go forth to the desert wasteland to hear words of Torah. ... As a token of honor, Scripture refers to him as the king’s father-in-law [and not by his name].

So Rashi is saying that there is an emphasis on the greatness viewed by Jethro of Moses and vice-a-versa. The emphasis isn't to say "yo, did you forget? Jethro is Moses's father-in-law!" But rather, to emphasize their special, mutually respected relationship.

Rashi's take on the verse "on that day" to mean quite the same as many other sages, indeed.

on this day. On the New Moon (Mechilta, Shab. 86b). It could have said only, “on that day.” What is the meaning of "on this day"? That the words of the Torah shall be new to you, as if they were given just today.

This is why each year we cycle through Torah, refreshing our minds and seeing the text anew. I cannot imagine approaching Torah any other way, and I look forward to the future years in which I wil read and reread the parshah as I read them in this year, 5767. It's like watching a movie over and over, your eye always catches something new and different. Additionally, reading Torah as if it were just given today allows one to feel constantly refreshed by the text and constantly renewed in Judaism.

I sometimes wonder what it would do to Judaism for each of the Jewish people to spend a little time everyday with Torah. It would make the faith and culture more alive than before. I now understand yeshiveh and the dedication of true Torah scholars. I strive to become as one someday, someday soon.

Va-Y'hi: And he lived (but he died in the end)

This week's parshah is the final one for Bereshit (Genesis), and concludes the history of the Patriarchs, leading to Exodus, which tells the history of the nation of Israel. Israel dies, Joseph dies. And so we begin.

+ In Gen. 48:16, Jacob is blessing the two sons of Joseph (Manasseh and Ephraim), who has adopted as his own. In the blessing, he says "In them may my name be recalled, / And the names of my fathers Abraham and Isaac, / And may they be teeming multitudes** upon the earth." The commentary in Etz Chayim on this passage interprets this as "May G-d bless them as long as they call themselves by traditional, biblical names. The most valuable legacy we can leave our children and grandchildren is bequeathing to them the faith that stustained us (Shneur Zalman of Lyady)." Zalman being the Elder Rebbe, the first rebbe of Chabad. I don't know that I particularly understand how this can be derived from the blessing. I think Zalman takes the "my name" too literally. Rather, I see this as "the memories" of Jacob, his fathers, etc. be recalled. Thus, Jacob's blessing is merely that in the nation of Israel, may the memories of the Patriarchs be recalled.

** Now, an alternative (and what I consider more accurate) translation of the end of that blessing says may they multiply "like fish" (Hebrew: dag). Not sure why Etz Chayim doesn't use this translation, considering that's what the Hebrew says. I'm sort of irritated that the translation got away from this, mostly because of Rashi's interpretation of the importance of this phrase: "[Just] like fish, which proliferate and multiply, and are unaffected by the evil eye." Why are fish free from the evil eye? Talmud states that this is because they are under water. If you recall the flood, fish really were the only animal free from the effects of the flooding because they were water creatures. Additionally, it makes me wonder why the quip isn't "multiplying like fish" and instead is "multiplying like rabbits." The nation of Israel is being blessed to not be affected by the evil eye. Brilliant!

(Note: I'm curious about this and may pursue it further. How does water keep the evil eye away?)

+ Jacob/Israel calls together his sons so "that I may tell you what is to befall you in days to come" (Gen. 49:1). Israel goes on to discuss each son's character and special gifts, not so much their future, though. Naftali of Ropshitz suggests that Israel saw into the future and was so distraught at what was to come, the spirit of prophecy disappeared, as it cannot dwell where there is grief and sadness. Thus, the commentary says that "The modern reader may understand the passage to mean that a person's future depends on his or her character. There is no preordained script that we are fated to follow." This, of course, got me thinking about preordainment in Judaism. I've heard a variety of things, the most fascinating idea being Rabbi Akiva: "all is forseen, yet choice is given" (Pirkei Avot). One rabbi suggests that free will must exist for religion to matter, and I can understand how this conclusion can be drawn.

Those who fail to believe in free will are sort of kidding themselves, especially if those people are the type to believe in heaven or hell. If there are two possible destinations in life, and you are predestined without free will, then what's the point in living? You will -- regardless of good works, etc. -- end up in either heaven or hell. So why try? These also are the individuals who likely will say "My husband died because it was part of G-d's plan" or "The hurricane came because it was part of G-d's plan." It sort of makes my face hurt when people say stuff like that.

Jewish philosopher Hasdai Crescas resolved the free-will/predestination argument by saying that free-will doesn't exist. A person's actions are predetermined from the moment of birth, and their judgement in the eyes of G-d is effectively preordained. HOWEVER, this is not a result of G-d predetermining one's fate, but rather that the universe -- by nature -- is deterministic. In essence, Crescas denies free-will and predestination in relation to G-d. Rather, because nature is deterministic, it just works out that way. Of course, Crescas's views were welcomed with vehement opposition.

Chabad believe in both -- free-will and predestination at G-d's will -- and accommodates the contraditions by saying that man is unable to comprehend the existence of both. G-d and man live in different realities, of course, and thus contradictions are apparent and not able to be understood. This goes back to Rabbi Akiva's statement, too.

To further muddle up whether Jews believe in either/or, Jewish historian Josephus claimed that the "Pharisees held that not all things are divinely predestined, but that some are dependent on the will of man; the Sadducees denied any interference of God in human affairs; while the Essenes ascribed everything to divine predestination."

It's an ages-old debate that seems -- among most Jewish groups -- to be answered by the conclusion that there is no such thing as predestination, that free-will and our decisions are what decide our fate. This, of course, is why tikkun olam is so important in Reform Judaism and in all of Judaism. Good works are what lead us to obtain a position closer to G-d (in a completely nonliteral sense).

However, you'll be hard pressed to find a religious Jew who would deny that G-d is omniscient. This, of course, is not -- in Judaism -- synonymous with predestination.

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Okay, so I got pretty sidetracked there with the predestination bit. I think it's an interesting concept, and everyone handles it quite differently. Aside from Va-Y'hi being the conclusion of the history of the Patriarchs, I didn't come up with much else to write on. It could be the fact that I'm pretty preoccupied with other floaty brain things. Or it could be that the coffee shop is particularly noisy today with lots of people having lots of conversations. I've got my headphones on, and it still isn't enough.

And the crowd asks, "Why not study at home, Amanda!?" And my answer? I'm not sure. Once I began college, I grew unable to really concentrate or wrangle my thoughts. Sort of a stir-crazy kind of thing. I go elsewhere to study, because I find it easier to settle myself down in surroundings that don't involve a bed or television or kitchen. It isn't that I fall asleep, watch TV or eat a lot at home all the time ... it's just a state of mind.

Next week, for the first parshah of Exodus, I'll be working from an alternate location in an alternate time zone in an alternate reality. Stay tuned ...

EDIT: It would appear I am a minor celebrity, as a girl at the coffee shop stopped to ask me if I make YouTube videos. Evidently she found this video and recognized me and BAM! Instant celebrity. I'm pretty proud :)