FOUR

Gender and Sexuality

In the past few decades, scholars (e.g., Boyarin 1995; Kraemer 2011; Satlow 1995) have begun to investigate rabbinic assumptions about gender and sexuality. These topics are intertwined, since the social performance of gender informs conversations about “proper” sexual practice, and vice versa. Discussions of both topics show how cultural constructions associated with gender and sexuality create communal norms that privilege certain identities (especially those of elite men). Over time, and in line with a general trend in academia, these investigations have moved from the periphery to the center; that is, it is no longer considered cutting-edge or controversial to assert that rabbinic literature, like almost all ancient literature, was written by men, for men, and about men. In fact, when I taught about gender in an undergraduate Religious Studies theory seminar at the University of Wisconsin in the fall of 2015, one student expressed surprise that there was even a need to devote an entire class session to this topic; after all, she argued, this is so obvious that everyone knows it! What was seen as innovative when I was an undergraduate in the late 1990s is viewed by many of my students today as the trite scholarship of an older generation.

Nevertheless, it is worth taking a moment to justify the logic of this chapter. After all, much of the material contained herein could have been located in other chapters (and, indeed, some of it appears elsewhere too). Consideration of gender and sexuality deserves its own chapter for several reasons, most of all because in some instances, the pendulum has swung too far in the opposite direction: namely, in correcting for what “goes without saying” scholars sometimes treat this material as so obvious that, once again, it “goes without saying.” Yet, without a firm grasp on some of the basic principles of how gender and sexuality operate within this corpus, one cannot truly understand rabbinic literature.

Just as we learned in the previous chapter that Jews and non-Jews are not fungible in rabbinic literature, we need to realize that neither are men and women; “When a woman appears in a rabbinic story, her appearance as a woman is almost never incidental; her character is not interchangeable with a male one” (Satlow 2002, 226, original emphasis). For example, in a famous tale, a student hides under his Rabbi’s bed, in order to learn proper sexual decorum between a husband and wife. Understandably upset that his private conjugal moment has turned into office hours, the Rabbi demands that the student leave. “It is Torah, and I must learn it!” the latter exclaims (b. Berakhot 62a; for discussion, see Biale 1997, 53; Boyarin 1995, 122–25). The genders of the characters in this tale are not interchangeable. First, the rabbinic practice of Torah study is gendered as male (Satlow 1996). Second, while both student and Rabbi are named (Rav Kahana and Rav, respectively), the wife’s name is never revealed. She is just a literary foil. One cannot imagine a scenario in which a named female student hides under the bed of her named female Rabbi while the latter has sex with her unnamed husband. This asymmetry points towards larger assumptions about gender and sexuality, many of which appear in texts that modern readers might find challenging and/or difficult to read.

Many readers will feel excluded from the heteronormative, male perspective of rabbinic literature. I cannot presume to speak for them, but I want to offer at least one suggestion for reading these texts that I personally find compelling. Discussing how feminist Jewish readers might engage with and connect to the similar rabbinic texts discussed in her own book, Elizabeth Shanks Alexander asserts:

When feminists in our day follow the rabbinic arguments and exegesis that I have re-animated in the pages of this book, they can be seen to be participating in the ritual Torah study that is prompted by the ancient texts. Feminist readers of the text reenact the work of organizing, analyzing, ordering, and mastering tradition that, in antiquity, was central to the social and religious formation of rabbinic sages. By implicating themselves in the scholastic afterlife of rabbinic texts, feminist readers paradoxically participate in a beit midrash [rabbinic study academy] from which they are excluded. It is intriguing to consider the fact that feminists can report something they find to be very discouraging (that women cannot participate in Torah study that has the effect of reproducing the covenantal community) even while they perform the exact opposite. . . . When feminists re-animate the exercises that constituted ritual Torah study in the ancient beit midrash, they constitute themselves de facto as the next generation in the covenantal community forged by Torah study. (2015, 249)

This chapter asks what rabbinic conversations about beer, wine, breast milk, bitter waters, and magical potions teach us about ancient rabbinic presumptions about gender and sexuality. When modern readers—whatever their own assumptions, interpretations, and identifications—engage in the very practice of rabbinic text study, they are able to perform that practice in multiple ways that can reproduce and/or reshape ancient rabbinic practice. In doing so, they too can declare: “It is Torah, and I must learn it!”

RAV HISDA ADVISES HIS DAUGHTERS: THE ASYMMETRIC PERFORMANCE OF GENDER

One area where we can detect assumptions about gender is in regard to advice about decorum. Decorum is a performative category—it relates to social rules regulating proper action. It tells us not to pick our noses in public; not to talk with food in our mouths; and not to discuss religion, sex, or politics at the dinner table. It also tells us what it is “appropriate” for one to wear, act, or say, often along gendered lines. So examining rabbinic advice on decorum is fruitful for our present purposes.

Like a lot of advice, our example comes in the form of parental admonition: Rav Hisda instructing his daughters in social propriety. But before we get to what Rav Hisda says to his daughters, we encounter a series of statements addressed to rabbinic scholars, mostly by Rav Hisda. These young men are his students. But more than that, they are his academic children, sons not by birth but by reason of study (see Eilberg-Schwartz 1990, 229–34). He tells them how to act when poor and when rich, but mostly when poor. To give a flavor of this general advice:

And Rav Hisda said: One who is able to eat barley bread but [instead] eats wheat bread transgresses on account of “You shall not destroy” [Deuteronomy 20:19].

And Rav Pappa said: One who is able to drink beer but [instead] drinks wine transgresses on account of “You shall not destroy.” (b. Shabbat 140b)

The biblical verse cited above prohibits those besieging a city to chop down fruit trees, “for you may eat from them” (Deuteronomy 20:19). The Rabbis develop this into a broader principle of not being wasteful. Rav Hisda is advising his poor students to not waste their money buying more expensive food (wheat bread) when cheaper ones (barley bread) are available. Rav Pappa chimes in and suggests that one who drinks wine when beer is available is similarly wasteful (see Geller 2004, 239). We should be a little more suspicious of this second statement. First of all, Rav Pappa is a Babylonian Rabbi, and there is a Babylonian preference for beer over wine. Second, and more important, Rav Pappa made a sizable fortune as a brewer, so he clearly has a financial interest (see b. Pesahim 113a; b. Bava Metzi’a 65a; chapter 3). Rav Pappa is so associated with beer that he is even described as owning a beer-drinking ox! (See b. Bava Qamma 35a; Berkowitz 2018, 57–59.) Imagine how skeptical you might be were the CEO of Anheuser-Busch or MillerCoors to make the same statement.

Now that we have the flavor of the advice that Rav Hisda (and friends) were giving their students—their male children, as it were—we are ready to analyze his other advice:

Rav Hisda said to his daughters: You should be modest [even] in the presence of your husbands: you should not eat bread in the presence of your husbands; you should not eat a vegetable at night; and you should not eat dates at night; and you should not drink beer at night; and you should not relieve yourself where your husbands relieve themselves; and when a person knocks at the door, do not say “Who is it?” (Aramaic manu; the masculine pronoun), but rather “Who is it?” (Aramaic mani; the feminine pronoun).

He holds a pearl in one hand and a furnace in his other hand. You should show them the pearl, but the furnace you should not show them until they are tormented, and then you should show them. (b. Shabbat 140b)

In the ancient Mediterranean (and, I would argue, in most of the modern world as well) there is much more concern expressed for the modesty of a woman than that of a man. For example, in ancient Hebrew, there is no word for “male virgin”—the Hebrew word for “virgin” (betulah) always appears in the feminine form. It is imagined as a concept that applies—and hence matters—solely in regard to women. As Michael Satlow aptly states: “Female virginity was a sine qua non, but male virginity was a case of non sequitur” (2001, 120). A “virgin” is always female. (On using wine to “test” for virginity, see b. Ketubbot 10b; Satlow 2001, 173.) Likewise, the physical appearance of women is of greater concern than that of men. For example, while numerous sources discuss the importance of female beauty for suitability for marriage, “Jewish sources from antiquity ascribe no importance to male beauty for making a match” (Satlow 2001, 119).

This knowledge about ancient asymmetrical assumptions of gender helps us understand the very first words uttered by Rav Hisda: “You should be modest [even] in the presence of your husbands.” Right off the bat, he presumes that women ought to be modest in general. What he therefore addresses is the case when a woman is alone with her husband. In this time of private intimacy, Rav Hisda still cautions his daughters to be modest. (It is for this reason that I added “[even]” to my translation.) But what does it mean to be “modest”? Rav Hisda gives us a series of specific examples. Yet, as we shall soon see, the precise meaning of these specific examples is not always crystal clear.

The modest wife, according to Rav Hisda, does not eat bread in the presence of her husband. According to the renowned medieval commentator and reputed wine-maker Rashi, this piece of advice refers to the fact that sometimes women eat more than a piece of bread; and in overeating, they repulse their husbands. When Rav Hisda discusses men eating, his concern is for quality: that men not waste money on better food when cheaper food is available. Here, in regard to women, his concern is quantity: that women not eat too much food. This suggests a rhetoric of disgust, in that female table manners might revolt their husbands. It also suggests a rhetoric of concealment—that women not eat in front of their husbands, lest they turn them off. There is no analogous concern for husbands eating in front of—and potentially repulsing—their wives.

This regulation of the female mouth—which is not unique to ancient Judaism (see, e.g., Tompkins 2012)—continues in Rav Hisda’s next morsels of advice. Why should women not eat vegetables at night? Again according to Rashi, this is because doing so will give them bad breath. And why should women not eat dates and drink beer at night? In the words of Rashi: “They cause diarrhea and lead to flatulence” (Rashi on b. Shabbat 140b). If Rashi’s interpretations are correct, then taken together women are being cautioned to make sure to watch their diet close to bedtime, so as to assure that they have minty-fresh breath and do not befoul the bedroom’s airspace with their bodily functions. Overtones suggest that this is because they would turn off their husbands sexually, especially given the fact that earlier in this same Talmud tractate it is presumed that married couples usually sleep together naked (see b. Shabbat 13a, discussed in chapter 3; Rosenblum 2018, 181–82).

Furthermore, the concern with diarrhea seems to be a concern with bodily elimination, since the next piece of advice cautions women against relieving themselves in the same location as their husbands. There is significant discussion of the normative rabbinic law (Hebrew halakhah) of the bathroom (see Schofer 2010, 53–76), and gender and the rabbinic bathroom is a topic beyond my scope here (see, e.g., the comment on b. Gittin 45a that women gossip in the bathroom; and on gender and gossip in rabbinic literature, see Peskowitz 1997, 131–53). Here, the concern appears rather straightforward: if seeing a woman eat too much bread is a cause for concern, how much the more so is seeing her defecate? Women must regulate their mouths and bodily functions for the benefit of their husbands.

Turning from a wife interacting with her husband, Rav Hisda advises his daughters to greet all who come calling at their door assuming that they are female. Hebrew and Aramaic are gendered languages, meaning that there are separate pronouns for greeting male and female visitors. In this text, women are encouraged to default to the feminine pronoun and, concomitantly, both to invite and to expect only female visitors. Expecting—and receiving—male visitors would suggest sexual impropriety. This is also part of a general trend in rabbinic literature, where women are discouraged from talking with men (e.g., m. Avot 1:5; b. Eruvin 53b). Here women’s voices are both literally and metaphorically silenced.

I set Rav Hisda’s final piece of advice apart from the rest, because it represents both a departure in structure and content from his previous advice. Here, Rav Hisda engages in a time-honored awkward parental tradition: talking with one’s children about the birds and the bees. And Rabbis, like many parents, often turn to euphemism rather than explicitly stating what they mean—hence we call it “the bird and the bees” rather than “the sex talk.” Once again, I think that Rashi offers the most plausible interpretation: “pearl” is her breasts and “furnace” is her vulva (while Rashi states the former outright, he refers to the latter using the common rabbinic euphemism of “that place”; Rashi on b. Shabbat 140b). Therefore, Rav Hisda tells his daughters to show their husbands their breasts in order to arouse them to the point of suffering (i.e., intense physical desire), and then to show them their vulva so as to initiate vaginal intercourse. Note that the role of the woman in this sexual act is as object: her body is a subject of gaze, touch, and penetration (see Neis 2013, 117–29). Her passive role facilitates her husband’s active role, penetrating her and enabling procreation.

Rav Hisda’s advice to his daughters serves as an introduction to the asymmetrical performance of gender. Women are expected to eat, drink beer, defecate, answer the doorbell, and fornicate in ways that mark those practices as “modest”—and hence appropriate for the rabbinic woman. Let us now look at a husband’s economic obligation to his wife, and how that regulates—and is regulated by—her actions.

A WIFE’S WINE ALLOWANCE: A HUSBAND’S OBLIGATION TO SUPPORT HIS WIFE

When we imagine a wedding today, we often think of a joining of two souls, united in affection, standing before their families and friends and promising to love, honor, and cherish each other, followed by a party. In ancient (and modern) Judaism, however, a wedding might be all of that, but a central feature is the signing of a boilerplate marriage contract (Hebrew ketubbah) stipulating certain economic arrangements (on ancient Jewish marriage, see Satlow 2001, esp. 199–224). For example, in the standard modern Aramaic ketubbah, after the date, location, and relevant names are listed, the following wording appears:

Be my wife according to the laws of Moses and Israel. And I shall work, honor, feed, and support you in accordance with the practice of Jewish husbands, who work, honor, feed, and support their wives faithfully.

The text continues on to enumerate the amount of money that the husband will set aside for his wife; promises her food, clothing, necessities, and her conjugal rights; and then spells out several other specific details of the marital economic arrangements. It ends: “And everything is valid and binding.”

Immediately, the gender asymmetry of this text is obvious. The husband is the speaker: he is marrying and the wife is the one being married. Marriage is an arrangement that requires the exchange of money and vows—and the husband promises to do what Jewish men are expected to do: that is, to “work, honor, feed, and support their wives (literally, “their women”) faithfully.” Some of the support that wives are promised is spelled out—including their conjugal rights (Hebrew ‘onah; see Satlow 1995, 265–82). Other elements of this support are elaborated in other rabbinic texts, which often seek to clarify the terms covered in the ketubbah. In this section and the one that follows, we discuss how the economics of marriage can be understood by looking at two different gendered beverages: wine and breast milk.

As one might expect, significant portions of the tractate Ketubbot focus on details of the rabbinic marriage contract, or ketubbah (Hebrew plural ketubbot). This includes stipulations for standard marriages, and those that might deviate from the norm. For example, there is conversation in m. Ketubbot 5:8 about how economic arrangements are to be handled when husband and wife live apart, and the husband uses an intermediary in order to pay his wife her weekly allowance for food, clothing, and household needs. Included in this mishnah are some specific foodstuffs, but no mention of beverage appears. This leads later Rabbis to discuss drinks:

Whereas wine is not taught [in m. Ketubbot 5:8]. This supports [a statement by] Rabbi Eliezer. For Rabbi Eliezer said: They do not provide wine for a wife. But if you say, [in Hosea 2:7 it states]: “I will go after my lovers, who give me my bread and my water, my wool and my linen, my oil and my drink,” [this refers to] things that a woman desires. And what are they? Jewelry. (b. Ketubbot 64b–65a)

This passage (Aramaic sugya’) opens by noting that, in the list that appears in m. Ketubbot 5:8, wine is not mentioned. A saying attributed to Rabbi Eliezer is then introduced, since the present argument provides support for a statement attributed to him. According to Rabbi Eliezer, in general—and not just in the case of a wife supported by her husband through an intermediary—wives do not receive weekly wine allowances. A verse from Hosea is introduced, in which a female voice expresses expectations of support from her lovers: they will give her bread, water, wool, linen, oil, and drink.

Some background knowledge is required to understand what is happening here. First of all, Hosea, which is part of the Twelve Minor Prophets in the Hebrew Bible, prominently features the theme of a cheating, unfaithful wife (a metaphor for Israel cheating on her husband, God). Therefore, the gendered image of a verse from Hosea of a woman expecting support from her lovers already suggests the potential for sexual impropriety. Second, remember that this situation involves a couple living apart, so there seems to be concern that a wife drinking wine alone might lead her to desire sex more regularly than her husband could physically be available to offer it (as Rashi’s commentary also implies). Third, the reference to “drink” in Hosea 2:7 is initially presumed to be wine (after all, water has already been mentioned, so this must be something else). Fourth, the verb “desires” is actually a pun. The roots of the Hebrew words drink (sh-q-i) and desire (sh-u-q) look similar, so it is punning that what the woman (Hebrew ’isha; which could also be translated as “the wife”) desires is not drink, but jewelry (itself a gendered assumption). At the same time, it is implying that wine leads to desire, which continues the metaphor of sexuality that pervades this passage.

These assumptions develop as the sugya’ continues. For the sake of brevity, I summarize the next two sections of the sugya’, before we return to a more in-depth analysis. Next, we have further support for a wife not being provided with wine. Then, the question is raised of whether a woman who is accustomed to drinking wine prior to her marriage is allotted wine after her marriage. And then the following comments appear:

It is taught in a baraita’: One cup [of wine] is beneficial for a woman; two [cups] is a disgrace; three [cups lead to her] making explicit sexual propositions; four [cups lead to her] making sexual propositions even to a donkey in the marketplace, [since she is so drunk that] she does not care [with whom she has sex].

Rava said: This was taught only when her husband is not with her, but [if] her husband is with her, [then] we have no problem with it. (b. Ketubbot 65a)

While the text continues on, it is in the statement above that we get to the heart of the matter. There is a concern that drunkenness leads to expressions of sexuality. And rabbinic fear of these overt expressions of sexuality in particular suggests the presence of asymmetric gendered assumptions (a similar fear is expressed by ancient Roman authors; see Pomeroy 1995, 153–54). We begin with the fact that we are discussing wives drinking wine, not husbands. It would seem that the latter is not worthy of anywhere near equal commentary (though on rabbinic temperance, see chapter 9). Evidence for this concern is found in a baraita’, a rabbinic tradition reputed to be of tannaitic origin that is cited in an amoraic text, that discusses how much wine a woman—but not a man—should drink. One glass of wine is beneficial (for health, appearance, etc.). But any more is detrimental. If a woman pours herself a second glass of wine, she brings herself to disgrace. If she pours herself a third glass, then she will start making explicit sexual propositions. If she pours herself a fourth glass, then she will be so drunk that she will not care whether her sexual propositions are made to a human or non-human animal. (In another gendered context, b. Avodah Zarah 22b claims that non-Jewish men are especially desirous of having sex with non-human animals owned by Jews!)

But then notice how Rava modifies this statement. A woman alone should only drink one cup of wine at most. But if her husband is around, then she can drink as much as she wants. Rava’s logic, it would seem, is that if the woman becomes drunk with her husband around, he can control her urges by offering her a rabbinically approved outlet for them: namely, himself. But without the control of her husband, a woman is not to be trusted with wine. For this reason, a potentially absent husband would not provide his wife with wine.

MOTHER’S MILK: GENDER AND THE OBLIGATION TO BREASTFEED

Another fascinating example of gender and asymmetric rabbinic regulations involves a beverage that scholars too often fail to address: breast milk. This oversight ignores the fact that it has been less than two hundred years that safe, reliable, and effective non-breast milk options have existed. In antiquity, and throughout history until very recent times, breastfeeding by either the biological mother or a wet nurse was the only way for an infant to survive.

As one might expect, rabbinic texts discussing breastfeeding contain multiple assumptions about gender (in general, see Rosenblum 2016). Primary among these presumptions is that it is a wife’s obligation that “she nurses her child” (m. Ketubbot 5:5). However, note my wording in the previous sentence: it is a wife’s obligation. When m. Ketubbot 5:5 refers to breastfeeding, it appears in a list of expected labors that a wife performs on behalf of her husband (including such other household chores as cooking and washing clothes). The Rabbis imagine breastfeeding as a wife’s duty to her husband. Remember that these texts were written by men, for men, and about men. Therefore, it is not surprising that they envision breastfeeding in terms of their wives’ obligation to them, rather than in terms of a mother’s obligation to feed her own biological child. Modern conceptions of breastfeeding often depict it in terms of maternal attachment and benefit to the child (for a critical discussion, see Jung 2015). For the Rabbis, however, it is about the wife’s obligation to her husband, and the father’s obligation to his child.

This asymmetric understanding creates a potential nightmare scenario: in the event of a divorce, the biological father has an obligation to feed his not-yet-weaned child; however, his ex-wife no longer has an obligation to feed her ex-husband’s child. Perhaps shockingly, the fact that the infant is her own biological child is not a matter of concern to the Rabbis. In a case such as this, can a father force his ex-wife to nurse their biological child? No. And yes.

If [the biological mother] was divorced, [then her ex-husband] cannot compel her to nurse [their child]. If her child recognizes her, [then her ex-husband] can compel her to nurse and pays her a wage and she nurses [the infant], because of the danger to its life. (t. Ketubbot 5:5)

In general, an ex-husband cannot compel his ex-wife to feed her child. Her obligation was to her husband, not to her own biological child; and since the child’s father is no longer her husband, her obligation no longer exists. However, an exception exists (there is almost always an exception in rabbinic law!): if the infant recognizes its own mother, then the ex-wife can be forced to breastfeed her own biological child, though she is paid a wage for doing so. When she was her ex-husband’s wife, she did not receive a wage, but rather a household budget that covered her needs. In fact, while married, “if she is nursing, they reduce her [other] household chores and increase her food budget” (m. Ketubbot 5:9). This increased budget even covered wine, since the Rabbis believed that “wine increases the [production of] breast milk” (y. Ketubbot 5:13, 30b; cf. b. Ketubbot 65b). The language of “wage” here indicates that she is being treated as a wet nurse—that is, as a third party contracted for services rendered. The child may recognize her as its mother, but legally she is treated as a nonmaternal contracted laborer. Her breast milk is not mother’s milk, but a purchased commodity.

Infants, however, recognize not only the sight, but also the smell of their mother. This association is present almost immediately after birth. Therefore, it would be assumed that infants would recognize their own mother. This presumption means that the latter scenario will almost certainly come to pass, and the ex-wife / biological mother can be compelled to nurse her ex-husband’s / her own biological child. While the end result will be the same, the gender asymmetry forces the Rabbis to grapple with this potentially dangerous scenario. If the relevant law were gender-symmetrical, both biological parents would have an equal obligation to feed their own biological child. Married or divorced, the obligation would remain incumbent upon them both. As that is not the case, the Rabbis must turn to concern for the child’s life in order to rectify a potentially dangerous situation of their own making. Remember that in antiquity, access to breast milk was vital to an infant’s ability not only to thrive, but to survive. Today we may debate whether “breast is best,” but in the (not so distant) past, there were no other viable options so the potential repercussions were dire (on this debate, see Bentley 2014; Jung 2015).

While danger to life plays out in a variety of other breast milk related scenarios in rabbinic literature (see Rosenblum 2016, 165–69), another relevant asymmetrical gender law deserves attention: namely, why is male breast milk said to be pure? As is discussed further in chapter 8 on ritual purity, the Rabbis believe that breast milk is transformed menstrual blood. This association (common not only in the ancient world but in Western medicine until the eighteenth century) leads the Rabbis to debate to what extent the complex set of menstrual purity regulations should be applied to breast milk. In general, while the Rabbis debate straightforward scenarios, they display a particular proclivity towards the anomalous—and, frankly, the weird. Like the newspaper editor bored with the headline “Dog Bites Man,” but ready to print “Man Bites Dog” on the front page, the Rabbis are drawn to the unusual and extraordinary. A female lactating? Commonplace. A male lactating? Interesting!

To be fair, though rare, there are many reported cases of male lactation, technically referred to as male galactorrhea. And, since it is possible (no matter how improbable), then the Rabbis are interested in understanding the relevant normative rabbinic law (Hebrew halakhah). They conclude that: “the milk of a male is pure” (m. Makhshirin 6:7; in general, see Rosenblum 2016, 154–55). This decision is based on two premises. The first premise, discussed in more detail in chapter 8, is that men do not menstruate and, since female breast milk is transformed menstrual blood and men do not menstruate, then male breast milk must be something else. Therefore, the impurity regulations regarding (female) menstrual blood do not transfer to male breast milk. The second premise is a common presumption in the ancient Mediterranean: namely, that female bodies are porous, leaky, and uncontrolled (see Balberg 2014, 142–44, 173; Fonrobert 2000, 61–63). Male bodies are the opposite: whole, contained, and controlled (or, at least controllable, since men who do not control their bodies are deemed effeminate). Lactating women release their milk (referred to as “let down”) both voluntarily and involuntarily, as their breasts respond to hormonal and environmental stimuli. For these reasons, the Rabbis express a variety of purity-related concerns regarding female breast milk (see Rosenblum 2016). This same concern does not apply to male breast milk. Why? Because the Rabbis believe the male body to be controllable; hence, a male would only let down his breast milk on command. The product of a controlled and contained body, male breast milk is therefore not subject to additional purity concerns. Beverages produced by female and male bodies are subject to asymmetric regulation. Mother’s milk might have various purity concerns, but father’s milk does not.

BITTER WATERS AND JEALOUS HUSBANDS

Perhaps the ultimate example of gender asymmetry is encountered in the bizarre biblical ritual commonly referred to as “the bitter waters” (Hebrew mayim ha-marim; in general, see Destro 1989). Though the Rabbis claim in m. Sotah 9:9 that this ritual—often called an “ordeal” or “test”—ceased to exist after the destruction of the Second Temple (and Rosen-Zvi 2008 argues that there is reason to be skeptical that it ever occurred), they nevertheless devote most of an entire tractate to the subject: Sotah, meaning “suspected adulteress” (note the gender, to which we shall return).

Before turning to the Rabbis, it is worth reading much of the biblical narrative (for the full text, see Numbers 5:11–31). I shall translate and comment on most of this passage, breaking it into several text blocks in order to help the reader understand this complex and vexing ritual.

The biblical account begins:

If any man’s wife commits adultery and acts unfaithfully towards him, and a man has sex with her unbeknownst to her husband, and she keeps hidden that she has defiled herself, without being forced, and there is no witness against her, and a fit of jealousy comes over him and he is enraged in jealousy at his wife that she has defiled herself, or a fit of jealousy comes over him and he is enraged in jealousy at his wife that she has not defiled herself, the man shall bring his wife to the priest. (Numbers 5:12–15)

From the very beginning, we see this is about concern for women cheating on men, and not vice versa. Indeed, the biblical (and subsequently the rabbinic) definition of adultery is: a married woman who has sex with a man other than her husband (the punishment for which is death; see Leviticus 20:10; Deuteronomy 22:22). Therefore, a married man can only commit adultery if the woman with whom he has sex is married to another man. (It is for this reason that I always render the Hebrew word ’isha in this biblical narrative as “wife” and not “woman,” since the issue is always that she is married at the time of suspected intercourse.) The husband suspects that his wife has committed adultery, but he cannot prove it—since there are no witnesses to testify to the fact that his wife committed an act of consensual, adulterous sex. But even though this act of adultery may or may not have happened, the husband is enraged with jealousy. He cannot abide Schrödinger’s cat; he simply must know.

In order to get to the bottom of this, the husband takes his wife, along with some food for an offering (Numbers 5:15), to a priest. Next:

The priest shall bring her forward and make her stand before the Lord. The priest shall take sacral water in an earthen vessel and, taking some of the dirt that is on the ground of the Tabernacle, the priest shall put it into the water. The priest shall make the wife stand before the Lord and uncover the wife’s head and place upon her hands the meal offering of remembrance, which is a meal offering of jealousy. And in the priest’s hands shall be the water of bitterness (Hebrew mey ha-marim) that induces the spell. The priest shall make her take an oath, and say to the wife: “If a man has not had sex with you, and if you have not committed adultery in defilement while married, be immune from [the harmful effects of drinking] this water of bitterness that induces the spell. But if indeed you did commit adultery while married and defiled yourself, if a man other than your husband had sex with you”—then the priest shall make the wife take an oath with the oath of cursing, and the priest says to the wife—“may the Lord make you a curse and an oath amongst your people, when the Lord makes your thigh sag and your belly swell. And may this water that induces the spell enter into your womb, making the belly swell and the thigh sag.” And the wife shall say: “Amen! Amen!” (Numbers 5:16–22)

Since no human can “prove” beyond a reasonable doubt whether the wife has committed adultery, a ritual test must occur, in which God will provide testimony. Like drinking a radioactive liquid tracer before a medical test, the bitter waters (here called “the water of bitterness”) help with the diagnosis. Before we learn about how the drink is prepared, we are told that the wife is stood before God and made to take an oath. She must swear that she did not have sex with another man. Given the seriousness of oaths in the ancient world, one would presume that someone might confess rather than violate the Third Commandment by swearing a false oath (see Exodus 20:7; Deuteronomy 5:11). The priest declares that if she is innocent, nothing will occur—she will be immune to any physical harm. But if she is lying and has sworn falsely, then there will be noticeable physical side effects. While the precise meaning of these physical effects is debated (perhaps it refers to a distended uterus and miscarriage), the results are understood to be ontological and observable. The spell enters into her womb (a word that could also be translated as “intestines,” “bowels,” or simply “inside of body,” but the context here suggests that they are thinking of a womb) and works its magic—proving either her fidelity or infidelity. The wife consents (to the extent that we can imagine this as our modern notion of informed and willing consent) by replying “Amen! Amen!” to the priest.

And then, the priest prepares the concoction:

The priest shall write these curses on a scroll and rub it off into the water of bitterness. And he shall make the wife drink the water of bitterness that induces the spell, so that the water that induces the spell enters into her in order to cause bitterness. . . . And when he has made her drink the waters, then if she has defiled herself and acted unfaithfully towards her husband, the water that induces the spell shall enter into her in order to cause bitterness, and her belly shall swell and her thigh shall sag; and the wife shall become a curse among her people. But if the wife did not defile herself and is pure, then she is innocent and will become pregnant. (Numbers 5:23–24, 27–28)

The wife is forced to drink what sounds like a disgusting cocktail: water, mixed with dirt and ink. Based on her physical reaction, she is either declared guilty or innocent (and, in the latter case, it would seem that she also becomes pregnant).

By way of concluding this ritual, Numbers 5:29–31 notes:

This is the law of jealousy, when a wife acts unfaithfully while married and defiles herself, or when a man has a fit of jealousy and he is enraged in jealousy at his wife: the wife shall be made to stand before the Lord and the priest shall execute this entire law. The husband shall be clear of guilt, but that woman shall suffer her guilt.

This summary reminds us of the gender asymmetry that pervades this ritual: the husband fears no repercussions for making an accusation, but the wife incurs punishment if the suspicion is “proven” to be true. Therefore, a man can initiate this ritual without fear of guilt, which is not the case for a woman. And a woman could never initiate this ritual.

The Rabbis have much to say about this ritual. One text in particular has received significant scholarly attention, because it uses this ritual to raise the question of teaching Torah knowledge to a daughter (see, e.g., Alexander 2015, 200–205; Boyarin 1995, 170–80; Hauptman 1998, 22–25; Wegner 1988, 161–62). While there is the expectation that a father teaches his son Torah, whether he does the same for his daughter does not go without saying (see Alexander 2015, 184–88). Therefore, we learn:

She hardly finishes drinking before her face becomes green, her eyes bulge, and her veins swell, and they say: Take her away! Take her away! So that she does not defile the Temple Court!

But if she has merit, it would suspend [the punishment] for her.

There is merit that suspends [punishment] for one year, there is merit that suspends [punishment] for two years, [and] there is merit that suspends [punishment] for three years.

Hence Ben Azzai says: A man is obligated to teach his daughter Torah, so that if she drinks [the bitter waters], she will know that the merit suspends [the punishment] for her.

Rabbi Eliezer says: Anyone who teaches his daughter Torah, it is as if he taught her lasciviousness.

Rabbi Yehoshua says: A woman prefers one qav [of material possessions] and lasciviousness rather than nine qav [of material possessions] and abstinence. (m. Sotah 3:4)

The text opens with a woman being forced (see m. Sotah 3:3) to drink the bitter waters and then suddenly having an extreme physical reaction: her complexion changes as her eyes and veins bulge out. Those witnessing these events take place shout that she must be removed immediately from the Temple Court (on this peanut gallery, see m. Sotah 1:6). Why? Because she might die and her corpse would pollute the Temple.

At this moment, the text takes an odd turn by stating that, if the woman has merit, then this merit will suspend the punishment for her. Note both that she would still be deserving of punishment and that the text presumes her guilt (see Alexander 2015, 201). However, her merit delays the onset of the punishment for up to three years (for more on merit, see m. Sotah 3:5). Merit thus serves like a credit in one’s account, from which payments are deducted. But once the account balance is down to zero, the full payment comes due.

How is merit credited to one’s account? Through Torah study. For this reason, according to Ben Azzai, “A man is obligated to teach his daughter Torah.” This is a cryptic statement. Some have tried to use it as support for teaching women Torah in general, but this is problematic (see Alexander 2015, 203). Is the only reason that a daughter should learn Torah is so that if, one day, she commits adultery in a consensual but unwitnessed manner and her husband suspects that it happened and forces her to drink the bitter waters, then her punishment will be delayed for up to three years? That sounds as farfetched as the complicated sentence required to explain it. If the purpose of this passage were to convey that, in general, daughters should be taught Torah, we would expect a statement like: “A man is obligated to teach his daughter Torah so she would know this law and not commit adultery.”

Sensing this problem, Rabbi Eliezer argues that anyone who teaches his daughter Torah is comparable to one who taught his daughter lasciviousness. Why? Because the Torah gives her merit and a potential three-year reprieve from punishment, which the daughter would conceivably know, so she would feel more comfortable engaging in lewd sexual behavior in general (on the term “lasciviousness” [Hebrew tiflut], see Boyarin 1995, 171n3). This is essentially the argument made by those in favor of “abstinence only” sex education: knowledge of contraception leads to one putting that knowledge to practical use, which is why they believe it is best not to impart that knowledge at all. Better to not teach your daughter Torah, Rabbi Eliezer says, so that she will not count on charging her sins to her merit credit card.

All of this talk about lasciviousness and women culminates in Rabbi Yehoshua’s claim that, if given the choice, women prefer fewer material possessions but more sex, as opposed to the opposite. (The measurement used is a qav, roughly equivalent to twenty-four eggs, which is not the most useful measurement in the modern era; also, scholars debate the precise size of an egg for this purpose, so just think of this term as meaning “a measure”—as in “1 measure of stuff, 9 measures of sex.”) This conforms with a larger trend in rabbinic literature that imagines women as unable to exert self-control and hence ruled by their passions, especially their sexual appetite (see Satlow 1995, 158–59; Wegner 1988, 153–62). For example, we saw this concern above in b. Ketubbot 65a, where a woman was allowed to drink more wine with her husband around, as she is presumed unable to control her libido without his help.

Given the context of the bitter waters, it is unsurprising that this text turns to concerns for unregulated sexuality; after all, the whole point of this ordeal is that the husband suspects, but cannot prove, that his wife has committed adultery. The centerpiece of this test is the consumption of a beverage—a disgusting cocktail of water, dirt, and ink. Drinking once again serves as a gateway into themes in rabbinic literature. In this case, discussion of this highly unusual beverage leads to a conversation about teaching women Torah and the role that plays in regulating their (presumably) unquenchable thirst for sex.

WOMEN AND WINE: WHORES, IDOLATRY, AND GENDER ASYMMETRY

In several cases, rabbinic texts explicitly address how the gender of a character affects their ruling. One such instance involves Jewish/non-Jewish men drinking wine with non-Jewish/Jewish whores:

Rava said: [If] an idolatrous whore (Hebrew zonah) and a Jewish man are reclining beside each other, the wine [they are sharing] is permitted because, while the desire for [sexual] transgression would be strong in them, the desire for libated wine (Hebrew yayn nesekh) would not be strong in them. [However, if] a Jewish whore (Hebrew zonah) and idolatrous men are reclining, the wine [they are sharing] is prohibited. Why? Because she is debased and enticed by them. (b. Avodah Zarah 69b–70a)

I must begin my analysis by explaining why I translate the Hebrew word zonah as “whore.” In a tradition that begins in the Hebrew Bible, “whoring” (Hebrew zonim) describes both real and metaphorical carnal acts that violate cultural norms and theological tenets. For example, in a famous biblical text recited daily in rabbinic prayer services, Numbers 15:37–41 discusses the obligation to place fringes (Hebrew tzitzit) on the corners of four-cornered garments (on the gendering of the associated rabbinic rules, see Alexander 2015, 211–34). The reason given for this prescription is that seeing them there will remind you not to “go whoring” after other gods (Numbers 15:39). Fanciful rabbinic interpretations read this injunction not only metaphorically, but quite literally (see Harvey 1986; Sifre Numbers 115). “Whore” and “whoring” are jarring terms, which is why many translators prefer “prostitute”/“concubine” and “lusting.” This, however, conceals the disruptive intention of these terms and categories. A zonah is a gendered body that violates normative sexual roles; it is also a gendered body that is violated. And zonim is a set of sexual practices that violate not only normative sexual praxis, but that are also theologically nefarious actions. For example, in the passage from Numbers 15:39, the one who goes whoring is cheating on God. Biblical and postbiblical texts imagine God and Israel/Jews as in a monogamous relationship, so to “whore” is a serious accusation, and translating zonah and zonim as “whore” and “whoring” reveals these important (and admittedly often problematic) assumptions. We cannot conceal them; rather, as scholars and readers we must struggle with them, especially since their legacy of gendered violence and oppression continues to confront us today.

The very term “whore” would therefore trigger an entire set of assumptions about the zonah as a transgressive gendered body. This explains the presumptions in the text about both sexual relations (zonah as physically transgressive) and idolatrous practice (zonah as theologically transgressive). Further support for such presumptions is the dining posture described therein, as reclining was a gendered and often sexualized dining posture in the ancient Mediterranean world. Ancient Mediterranean texts describe elite men as reclining. “Proper” women usually do not recline, so when a woman is depicted as such, it often indicates that she is understood to be sexually available. These associations changed over time in the ancient Mediterranean, but the Rabbis envision reclining as the dining posture of the elite male (in general, see Roller 2006; Rosenblum 2012; Smith 2003).

Now that we understand that the women depicted in this text are understood to be transgressive bodies arranged in a transgressive posture, we are prepared to analyze the unit as a whole. This passage imagines two scenarios: in the first scenario, an idolatrous whore (zonah) reclines with a Jewish man and drinks wine; in the second scenario, a Jewish whore (zonah) reclines with idolatrous men and drinks wine. If rabbinic legislation is truly symmetrical, then the gender of the idolater or Jew should not matter and the status of the shared wine should not change. However, as we see in the text, gender is a variable that affects the status of the wine; hence, the rabbinic legislation is asymmetric in regard to gender and wine.

In this case, the wine that a male Jew shares with a non-Jewish female whore is permitted for Jewish consumption, but the wine that a male non-Jew shares with a Jewish female whore is not. (Note: the fact that the latter involves “men” in the plural does not affect the argument.) The reasons provided for this different status are quite telling. In the former case, both the non-Jewish whore and the Jewish man are deemed desirous of sex but not desirous of libating wine. In the latter case, the non-Jewish men are understood to be so driven to libate wine that they are compelled to do so, even before engaging in sexual acts. For them, libation comes before libido. Remember the rabbinic understanding of non-Jews as “compulsive libationers” discussed in chapters 3 and 5 (see Stern 2013). The Jewish whore in this case is viewed as having been debased and enticed by the non-Jewish men, and thus she submits to their desires. Hence, their shared wine is prohibited.

The fact that wine shared by a Jewish male and a non-Jewish whore is not deemed libated wine at first seems to contradict Sifre Numbers 131, the text discussed in chapter 3 in which a non-Jewish woman demands that a Jewish man, intoxicated with wine and lust, bow to her idol before they engage in intercourse. However, note that she does not libate the wine in that text, but rather demands that he bow to her (conveniently and provocatively concealed) idol. She is also not described as a “whore.” Therefore, while Sifre Numbers 131 complicates sharing wine with a non-Jewish woman, the present text does not necessarily address the exact same issue. Here, the question is about priorities and inclinations. Note that the Jewish man here is interested in libido, not libations; the non-Jewish men, however, are “compulsive libationers” who cannot focus on anything else before they scratch their insatiable pagan itch.

In both scenarios, however, women are passive. They submit to male desire. Though both scenarios imagine women as passive and men as active, the submissions of non-Jewish and Jewish women are not the same. When a non-Jewish whore submits to a Jewish man, they share wine and physical intimacy. In doing so, however, she is described neither as being “debased” nor “enticed” by him, even though she submits to his will. When a Jewish whore submits to non-Jewish men, however, she is “debased and enticed by them.” Here, assumptions about the Other intertwine with presumptions about gender.

Finally, neither scenario depicts a man as a “whore.” While the men may engage in transgressive practices, they are not “whores”—a term gendered as female. One could not switch the roles performed by males and females in this text; they are not interchangeable because these laws are not symmetric. The gender of the one drinking the wine matters.

BLACK MAGIC WOMAN

Another gender asymmetry is encountered in the rabbinic presumption that women are more inclined to magic than men. Of course, we could offer multiple historical examples—from Medea to the Salem witch trials to Sabrina the Teenage Witch—that remind us that this is a popular assumption, both ancient and modern. This belief appears numerous times in rabbinic literature, from a statement in the Babylonian Talmud that “most women practice witchcraft” (b. Sanhedrin 67a), to a claim made by Hillel, a famous sage, after whom a building is named on many college campuses, that “the more wives, the more witchcraft” (m. Avot 2:7).

This gendered assumption leads to several fascinating, and indeed humorous, encounters between male Rabbis and witchy women. For example, b. Sanhedrin 67b reports the following:

Yannai arrived at a certain inn. He said to them: “Give me a drink of water.” They brought him a lentil and water porridge. Seeing the lips of the woman [who served him] moving, he poured out a little of it, [which] turned into scorpions. He said to her: “I drank of yours, now come and drink of mine!” He gave her a drink [and] she turned into a donkey. He rode her down to the marketplace. Her girlfriend came [and] broke the spell. [Thus,] he was seen riding upon a woman in the marketplace.

Thirsty Yannai arrives at an inn and orders a drink of water. He is served a watery porridge, but before he can drink it, he notices his waitress’s lips moving. In rabbinic literature, whispering women is a code for women practicing magic, so he immediately suspects her of magical malice. His suspicion is confirmed when he pours out a little of his beverage (not as a pagan would pour out a libation, but as a rabbinic scientist would pour out some liquid in order to verify a theory) and it transforms into scorpions. While I am not a medical professional, I believe it uncontroversial to assert that drinking scorpions is bad for your health. Therefore, Yannai rightly concludes that this woman is a witch who intends to cause him harm.

Having confirmed her magical identity, note what Yannai does: he coerces her to drink his own enchanted concoction! As discussed further in chapter 5, despite the Rabbis’ grave concerns about “magic,” they neither deny its efficacy nor hesitate to learn it. In some cases, they even practice it, although this is often seen as self-defense against an impious attack. In what sounds like a modern game of Dungeons and Dragons, Yannai parries the witch’s scorpion attack with a spell of his own, which turns the witch into a donkey.

At this point, the gendered assumption of women as witches and women as sexual temptresses intertwine. Instead of merely changing her into a donkey and walking away, Yannai rides the “donkey” down to the marketplace, the most public area in town. (On gender in the rabbinic marketplace, see Baker 2002, 77–112.) The sexual innuendo of Yannai riding this particular “donkey” in public is laid bare when the witch’s girlfriend comes along and breaks Yannai’s spell. As a result, “he was seen riding upon a woman in the marketplace.”

Yannai takes his revenge too far. Ironically, his sexualized ride of the donkey/woman actually renders him effeminate in the rabbinic gaze. The Rabbis believe that women tempt men, and not necessarily the other way around. They spend far more time worrying about the corrupting influence that women have on men, rather than vice versa (as is the usual gendered presumption in modern Western society). For instance, b. Sotah 7a (cf. b. Qiddushin 81a) requires that, if a man must go on a long journey with a woman, he should bring along two other men as chaperones to protect him against female seduction. Should one of his male companions need to step away in order to relieve himself, the man will then still have one male chaperone present and would not be left alone with a potential temptress. Recall also the reclining whores and non-Jewish women with concealed idols discussed above (b. Avodah Zarah 69b–70a; Sifre Numbers 131). This assumption is built on the notion common throughout the ancient Mediterranean that only males are capable of “self-control”—that is, only males can regulate and discipline their minds and bodies. Females are believed to be slaves to their passions, while males are capable in theory—if not always in practice—of controlling their thoughts and actions (see Satlow 1996). Males who lacked self-control were thus deemed effeminate in most ancient Mediterranean cultures.

And this is why the ending suggests that Yannai has gone a step too far and, in doing so, forfeits his masculine identity. Up until the very end of the story, Yannai is a masculine rabbinic male. He detects a witch’s magic and avoids falling prey to it. He then counters with his own spell, which proves effective. He could have stopped there. At that point, he has bested a witch and transformed her into a beast. Where he loses self-control is when he mounts the woman and rides her down to the market. Then, in the most public place in town, another witch bests him, breaking his spell and putting him in the compromising position of being “seen riding upon a woman in the marketplace.” His lack of self-control leads to a woman casting her spell on him and embarrassing him in a sexually explicit manner in public. Yannai therefore goes from being viewed as a masculine rabbinic male who vanquishes a witch to being seen as an effeminate, uncontrolled, and sexually compromised male mounting a woman like a donkey in the middle of town.

Since the majority of women were presumed to be witches, encounters with women were fraught potentially with moral, theological, and especially sexual danger. In embodying the witch, women are understood as both sexually and spiritually seductive. Rabbinic men must be careful, then, in their interactions with women. And even if they uncover a tricky witchy woman, males must be careful to exhibit self-control and merely neutralize the whispering witch, rather than mount her like a donkey and ride her into town.

BEER AND BEYOND THE GENDER BINARY

Thus far, we have only discussed gender in binary terms: male and female. This is because:

Rabbinic legal thinking . . . aims first and foremost at instituting a rather pronounced gender grid, imposed on the social organization of Jewish society as the rabbis envisioned it. Most of the individual laws of rabbinic halakhah apply to either men or women. Differently put, in rabbinic legal thinking it is almost always important whether the halakhic agent is a man or a woman. (Fonrobert 2007, 271)

Gender in binary terms therefore is an important aspect of rabbinic legal thinking. But, as you might expect by now, just because the Rabbis like to think in binary terms, does not mean that they think in binary terms about their binary terms.

Whatever does that mean? While the Rabbis construct a gender grid in which men and woman are the two categories, they also devote time to various categories that are “neither-nor” or “both this and that” (Fonrobert 2007, 272–73). Therefore, the two gender categories of the Rabbis are really six. The first two are the two main gender categories into which the Rabbis wish everything to fit: male and female. Third and fourth, there are “the dual-sexed hermaphrodite” (Hebrew ’androginos from Greek) and “his parallel, the nonsexed or not-yet sexed person [Hebrew tumtum]” (Fonrobert 2007, 272). Fifth and sixth, there are the saris, often translated as “eunuch,” and the ’aylonit, which refers to a person identified as “female” at birth but who then, at the onset of puberty, develops “male” characteristics and is infertile.

These additional four gender categories are employed by the Rabbis to analyze bodies and embodied practices that do not conform to their binary gender grid. For example, the Rabbis presume heterosexual intercourse to be normative, and raise serious concerns about homoerotic intercourse (especially in regard to male-male encounters), but may a man have sex with an ’androginos? (See t. Yevamot 10:2, where the answer is: it depends upon whether “he comes upon him in the way of males” or not; see Satlow 1994, 17–18.) Further, the categories of saris and the ’aylonit “have much more to do with the legal determination of an inability to reproduce than with differentiating between sexual identities” (Fonrobert 2007, 280).

Though the saris and the ’aylonit are discussed most often in regard to their infertility, they are still part of the larger discourse about gender categories in rabbinic literature. An interesting example of how this works is in regard to Levirate marriage (Hebrew yibum). Levirate marriage occurs when a man dies without bearing any children. His brother is obligated to marry his widow and procreate, so that the deceased’s children will bear his name (in general, see Deuteronomy 25:5–10). If the brother of the deceased does not wish to do so, one of the most bizarre biblical rituals occurs: the widow stands before the Elders, unties his shoe, spits in his face, and says, “Thus shall it be done unto the man who does not build up his brother’s house!” (Deuteronomy 25:9).

Levirate marriage merits its own tractate of the Mishnah and Talmud: Yevamot, the plural of yibum. Yevamot is the first tractate in the Order of Women (Hebrew Nashim), an Order that considers gendered bodies and practices that depart from those of the normative rabbinic male. At one point, the Mishnah discusses the ritual refusal of Levirate marriage, known as ḥalitzah (from the Hebrew word used in Deuteronomy 25:9 for untying his shoe) and whether this ritual applies to a saris (m. Yevamot 8:4–5). After all, if a saris is man, he would be eligible for Levirate marriage; but a saris is also sterile, so can he really marry his deceased brother’s childless widow for the purposes of procreation? Further, is an ’aylonit subject to Levirate marriage and/or ḥalitzah (m. Yevamot 8:5)?

In discussing the case of the saris, m. Yevamot 8:4 distinguishes between two different types: the saris ’adam (literally, “eunuch of man”) and saris ḥamah (literally, “eunuch of sun/heat”). The saris ’adam is a man-made eunuch—that is, he was born with both testicles and was fertile, but was subsequently castrated. In contrast, a saris ḥamah is sterile from birth. According to one tradition, a saris ḥamah is a “eunuch of the sun,” having never seen a single sunrise as a fertile male (y. Yevamot 8:5, 9d). But, as I note above, the Hebrew word ḥamah can also mean, “heat.” With all of this background in mind, we turn to a text that illustrates many of these issues:

What is the case of a saris ḥamah?

Rav Yitzhak bar Yosef said that Rabbi Yohanan said: [This refers to] anyone who did not see one moment of kashrut.

How do we know [whether he is a congenital saris]?

Abaye said: Anyone who [from birth] urinates and does not form an arch [with his urine, is a congenital saris].

What causes this to occur? When his mother baked [bread] at noon and drank marqa’ beer [while pregnant with him]. (b. Yevamot 79b–80a)

Our text opens by inquiring about the term saris ḥamah that appears in m. Yevamot 8:4. A tradition is introduced that provides a definition: a saris ḥamah is a congenital saris. I left the term kashrut untranslated here because, while kashrut (the abstract Hebrew noun of kasher, or “kosher,” meaning “fit/valid/permissible/suitable”) is most often associated with food, the Rabbis use the term to refer to a variety of other contexts in which they assess the validity of a person/object/substance for a given category. In fact, the Hebrew Bible never refers to food as kosher. As a congenital saris, there is never a moment when the saris ḥamah is “kosher” in regard to procreation.

The text continues to seek further clarification. Are we sure that this refers to a congenital saris? Abaye offers a criterion: if he could never form an arch when he urinates, then he is a saris from birth. This suggests that the person has never been able to urinate from a standing position, a position gendered as male (for further gendered conversation about urination, see b. Bekhorot 44b). And what causes this congenital condition? Here is where the meaning of ḥamah as “heat” comes into play. While pregnant, the saris ḥamah’s mother engaged in hot activities that raised her body temperature significantly enough to cause a birth defect (on rabbinic views on embryonic development, see Kessler 2009). As anyone who has spent time in a hot kitchen in the summer can attest, baking bread in a hot oven at the hottest time of the day takes a physical toll. This raising of her bodily temperature is viewed to affect the embryonic development of her child, rendering them a “eunuch of heat.” The role that marqa’ beer plays in this process is unclear for two reasons. First, marqa’ usually means, “diluted” and refers to beverages mixed with water to limit their potency. But why would diluted wine affect fetal development? After all, it not only lowers the alcohol content, but also is usually seen as quite healthy. To cite one relevant example: Abaye’s mother suggests drinking “diluted (Aramaic marqa’) wine” in order to lower a fever (b. Gittin 67b; discussed in chapter 9). Second, did the mother bake in a hot oven on a hot day and drink diluted beer, or were these separate acts?

Regardless of what role beer drinking plays in this narrative, we discover much about gender in rabbinic literature from this passage. First, we needed to learn that the gender binary of the Rabbis requires discussion of categories that transcend the binary. Second, we had to discuss the heavily gendered concept of Levirate marriage. Third, we clarified the two different categories of saris. Fourth, we explored how gendered urination positions influence the definition of a congenital saris. Fifth, we are told how maternal actions affect the embodied development of her fetus.

CONCLUSION

As we have seen throughout this chapter, gender matters. In every text we read—rabbinic or otherwise—there are assumptions about gendered bodies and practices. And by unpacking them, we gain significant insight into larger cultural values.

By way of conclusion, I would point to another rabbinic (and, indeed, cross-cultural) gendered practice: using beverages as a metaphor for women and sex. Women are compared to drinks when, among other things, discussing their physical appearance (e.g., b. Shabbat 62b–63a, which uses the metaphor of red or white wine to discuss their skin’s complexion); and their husbands’ view of them (e.g., t. Sotah 5:9, a discussion that kicks off with the assertion: “Rabbi Meir used to say: Just as one evaluates food, so too one evaluates women”). Further, the act of intercourse itself is discussed in beverage-related terms. For example, the minimum amount of time necessary for intercourse is compared to the amount of time needed to mix a glass of wine (t. Sotah 1:2; and parallels noted in Satlow 1995, 127n36); and illicit sex is described as “stolen waters” (quoting Proverbs 9:17; e.g., y. Sotah 1:4, 16d; b. Sanhedrin 75a; Weingarten 2010, 363–64). Finally, we learn in the following manner that, while having sex, a man should only think of the woman with whom he is having intercourse:

“So that you do not follow your heart [and your eyes, after which you go whoring” [Numbers 15:39, discussed above].

From this [verse], Rabbi said: A man should not drink from one cup and set his eyes on another cup. (b. Nedarim 20b; see Neis 2013, 131–35)

In all of these instances, men are the normative subjects, and women are the objects. Men are the consumers, and women are the consumed; or, in a more apt metaphor, men are the drinkers, and women are that which is drunk.

Yet, to return to the observations by Elizabeth Shanks Alexander cited at the beginning of this chapter, we should not forget that whereas ancient rabbinic texts may perceive men as the drinkers and women as that which is drunk, modern readers can switch the hand that holds the cup. Women (and other people who feel marginalized and/or excluded from ancient rabbinic texts) can now participate in ritual Torah study; and, in doing so, they can become the drinkers and define what is, and is not, in their cup.