hebrew union college — Blog — Rabbi Josh Franklin

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.

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.