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 Vows That We Make

More than a millennium has passed since the act of vowing engendered significant religious obligations and consequences in the Jewish world. As early as the seventh century, Rav Yehudai Gaon, one of the prolific rabbinical scholars of the time, highlights the lapsed trend of vowing by declaring: "we do not study Nedarim  [the talmudic tractate that deals with vows], nor do we know how to rule strictly or leniently in this area."  In modern lingo, a vow has become a way to express emotions of anger, exasperation, annoyance, and aggravation, while often lacking sincerity.  "I swear to God, if the Yankees don't win this game, I'm going to kill myself!" On the other hand,  some people will only make a vow––especially in God's name––if they really mean it, or not make any declaration at all. When we look back at the tradition of making a neder  (a vow) within the Hebrew Bible and within rabbinical literature, we find that vowing was a not only a common Jewish practice, but that Jews did it with a stringent binding force and severe legal consequence. 

In addition to the dedication of an entire tractate in the Mishnah and the Talmud called נדרים on the legal implications of making vows, we find circumstances in other sections of the Talmud that also deal with making a neder. Parts oftractate Ketubot deal with vows that a husband might make against his wife. In these cases, a husband makes a neder  prohibiting his wife from pleasures, property, intercourse, and rights in which she is granted in her ketubah  (marriage contract).  Such cases deal with a husband who abuses his wife through spitefully vowing away her pleasures and her legal rights. Because of this abuse, the rabbis demand that such marriages be dissolved unless the neder can somehow be annulled. The Mishnah supposes the following the scenarios: 

הַמַּדִּיר אֶת אִשְׁתּוֹ מִלֵּהָנוֹת לוֹ, עַד שְׁלֹשִׁים יוֹם, יַעֲמִיד פַּרְנָס. יָתֵר מִכֵּן, יוֹצִיא וְיִתֵּן כְּתֻבָּה

If one pronounces a vow prohibiting his wife to derive benefit from him for up to thirty days, he must set up a steward to support her. If it is more than thirty days, he must divorce her and pay her ketubah (Ketubot 7:1). 1

הַמַּדִּיר אֶת אִשְׁתּוֹ שֶׁלֹּא תִטְעוֹם אֶחָד מִכָּל הַפֵּרוֹת, יוֹצִיא וְיִתֵּן כְּתֻבָּה

If a husband pronounces a vow on his wife to the effect that she should not taste any type of fruit, he must divorce her and pay the value of the ketubah  (Ketubot 7:2). 2

הַמַּדִּיר אֶת אִשְׁתּוֹ שֶׁלֹּא תִתְקַשֵּׁט בְּאֶחָד מִכָּל הַמִּינִין, יוֹצִיא וְיִתֵּן כְּתֻבָּה

If one pronounces a vow on his wife that she should not adorn herself with jewelry or perfume, he must divorce her and pay the value of her ketubah  (Ketubot 7:3).

הַמַּדִּיר אֶת אִשְׁתּוֹ שֶׁלֹּא תֵלֵךְ לְבֵית אָבִיהָ, בִּזְמַן שֶׁהוּא עִמָּהּ בָּעִיר, חֹדֶשׁ אֶחָד יְקַיֵּם. שְׁנַיִם, יוֹצִיא וְיִתֵּן כְּתֻבָּה. וּבִזְמַן שֶׁהוּא בְּעִיר אַחֶרֶת, רֶגֶל אֶחָד יְקַיֵּם. שְׁלֹשָׁה, יוֹצִיא וְיִתֵּן כְּתֻבָּה

If one pronounces a vow prohibiting his wife to go to her father's house when they are in in the same city, the vow is acceptable if made for up to one month. If it is made for two months, then he divorces her and pays the value stated in the ketubah.

If the father is in a different city, then a vow for the term of up to one festival is acceptable, but if the duration of the vow is for three festivals or more, then he must divorce her and pay the value of the Ketubah (Ketubot 7:4). 3

הַמַּדִּיר אֶת אִשְׁתּוֹ שֶׁלֹּא תֵלֵךְ לְבֵית הָאֵבֶל אוֹ לְבֵית הַמִּשְׁתֶּה, יוֹצִיא וְיִתֵּן כְּתֻבָּה, מִפְּנֵי שֶׁנּוֹעֵל בְּפָנֶיהָ

If one pronounces a vow prohibiting his wife to go to the house of mourning or to the house of feasting (a wedding), then he should divorce her [immediately] and pay the value of the ketubah. This is because by doing so, he locks the door in front of her [so to speak] (Ketubot 7:5). 

הַמַּדִּיר אֶת אִשְׁתּוֹ מִתַּשְׁמִישׁ הַמִּטָּה בֵּית שַׁמַּאי אוֹמְרִים, שְׁתֵּי שַׁבָּתוֹת. בֵּית הִלֵּל אוֹמְרִים, שַׁבָּת אֶחָת

If one pronounces a vow prohibiting his wife from conjugal relations with him, the house of Shamai says that if the term of the vow was up to two weeks, he need not divorce her. The house of Hillel says that if the term was no longer than one week, then he need not divorce her (Ketubot 5:6). 

These discussions on abusive vowing might not directly translate to the modern world in which vowing holds little bearing. Notwithstanding, we can draw out key values from the texts that offer us sound advice for fostering healthy marriages. It might seem difficult to abide by the legal code set out in tractate Ketubot, but we can abide by the spirit of the law. 

Spousal abuse comes in many forms. While we are most apt to consider physical battery as a determining qualifier, abuse can be emotional and verbal. Abuse also need not be aggressive, but can manifest in passive aggressive forms. Today, abusing a loved one through vows may be a difficult concept to grasp. Jewish men no longer make prohibitory vows like the ones we see in the Mishnah. But we do find similar types of abuse in our time; and it is not just the husband who abuses his spouse. When an individual spitefully deprives his or her spouse of any type of physical, material, social, or familial pleasure, divorce may certainly be warranted. Love is about fostering these pleasures with each other, and not about depriving one another from them.

To understand the rabbinic legacy with which these texts leave us, we need only reword the rabbinic vows to become the promises that we make to each other. Vowing can enrich our covenantal relationships with each other and with God when we vow with intentionality and with love. No longer should we see vows in the light of prohibition or dedication, but rather with commitment to our partners. Reimagining the Mishnah for the modern Jew, our tradition might read:

When couples vow to enrich each others lives with the benefits of love; when they vow to commit to healthy intimacy with each other; when they vow to enjoy food together; when they vow to adorn each other with gifts; when they vow to love and support each other's families; when they vow to celebrate the joys in the lives of their friends and families together; and when they vow to join together to support their communities in times of mourning; then with the blessing of the the One who ordains love in the world, their marriage will know love, companionship, happiness, and tranquility.

1.  The Mishnah goes onto cite the opinion of Rabbi Yehuda that: "ר' יהודה אומר: בישראל, יום אחד יקיים, שנים יוציא ויתן כתובה, ובכהן, שנים יקיים, שלשה יוציא ויתן כתובה. In the case of a regular Jew, if the duration of the vow was for only one day then he should keep her as his wife, but if it was for two days or more he must divorce her and pay the value of her ketubah. For a Kohen, if the term of the vow was for two days he should keep her, but if it was for three, then he must divorce her and pay the value of her ketubah

2.  The Mishnah continues by citing the opinion of Rabbi Yossi that:"בעניות שלא נתן קצבה, ובעשירות שלשים יום. In the case of a poor women, he must divorce his wife only if he did not give a certain time limit for the duration of the vow; whereas in regard to wealthy women, the maximum term is thirty days." This is because a wealthy woman would be accustomed to adornment, and the vow would simply be to deprive her something she is used to. For a wife who is rich, this vow would be equivalent to a vow in which a husband makes in the first part of the Mishnah to prohibit her from deriving benefit from him. But if the couple is poor, then effect of the husband vow is different because the husband would not be able to afford adornment at all. In the case of a poor couple, the effect of the husband's vow would be similar to the case of tasting any type fruit in the second part of the Mishnah. That is to say that he is vowing to deny her a simple pleasure, an act of spousal cruelty.

3.  The Mishnah further speculates that "טוען משום דבר אחר רשאי, if the husband claims that he pronounced the vow because of something else, then he is permitted to make this vow without the consequence of being forced to divorce her." The Gemara clarifies that the husband would forbid her to go to the house of mourning and feasting because of a legitimate claim that there are בני אדם פרוצין שמצויין שם, promiscuous men found there.

The Value of Human Life Amidst Conflict in Israel

נברא אדם יחידי, ללמדך שכל המאבד נפש אחד מעלה עליו הכתוב כאילו איבד עולם מלא, וכל המקיים נפש אחד מעלה הכתוב כאילו קיים עולם מלא

Man (Adam) was created singly in order to teach that whoever destroys a human life, scripture teaches that it is as if he destroys an entire world, and whoever saves a human life, scripture teaches that it is as if he saves an entire world! (Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 37b)

Generations of Jews have quoted this talmudic teaching to emphasize the value that our tradition places on each human life. The Talmud explains that just like Adam, the father of humanity, every individual possesses the potential to give life to an endless string of generations. The teaching also continues by noting that because we all come from the same ancestor (Adam), no individual ––Jew, Muslim, Christian, etc.––should ever be able to claim that his or her life is worth more than that of another. 

I keep this teaching close to my heart to remember that even in times when the Jewish people are threatened at home or abroad in Israel, every individual life––Jew and non-Jew–– matters. The current escalation of violence between Israel and Hamas causes me a great deal of heartache because of the enormity of destruction to human lives. Regardless of who started it, who caused more damage to the other, or who is in the right, each human life lost in the conflict pains me. 

I say this while simultaneously believing that Israel must defend herself when her civilians and her security are threatened. Israel holds a special place in my heart and soul. It is the land of our people, the land of our heritage, and the land that protects the safety and continuity of the Jewish people; yet support  for Israel and our universalist value for human life are not mutually exclusive ideas! 

In recent days I have been reading many alarming comments from my friends on Facebook. When the existence of the Jewish people is threatened, many Jews tend to devalue the lives of the threatening entity. I read one comment that heartlessly declared in Hebrew: "the time has come to burn Gaza to the ground!" This phenomenon of devaluing human life during times of danger has occurred throughout our history, even to the point of amending the fundamental talmudic dictum above. At some point in Eastern European History, a scribe who reproduced the Talmud shifted the emphasis upon all human life to: "whoever destroys  the life of a Jew (נפש אחת מישראל) scripture teaches that it is as if he destroys an entire world, and whoever saves a Jewish life, scripture teaches that it is as if he saves an entire world!"* Many Talmud manuscripts still carry this insular message. 

My support goes out to Israel, but my prayers go out to all those afflicted by the horrors of this conflict between Israel and Hamas. In recognizing the value of every human life, I hope that you all will join me in wishing for a speedy end to this current conflict. May it be God's will that Israel and her neighbors will find a peaceful way to coexist. 

*The earliest manuscripts of this text from Italy, the Kaufmann and the Parma Di-Rossi manuscripts of the Mishna, preserve the universalist reading of the text. The later Vilna edition of the Talmud (from which most major current editions derive their text) uses the particularist reading. 

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.