Re-Presenting Texts: Jewish and Black Biblical Interpretation 9781611439243, 2013029025, 1611439248

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Re-Presenting Texts

Judaism in Context

16

Judaism in Context contains monographs and edited collections focusing on the relations between Jews, Judaism, and Jewish culture and other peoples, religions, and cultures among whom Jews have lived and flourished.

Re-Presenting Texts

Jewish and Black Biblical Interpretation

Edited by

W. David Nelson Rivka Ulmer

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34 2013

Gorgias Press LLC, 954 River Road, Piscataway, NJ, 08854, USA www.gorgiaspress.com Copyright © 2013 by Gorgias Press LLC

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise without the prior written permission of Gorgias Press LLC. 2013

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ISBN 978-1-61143-924-3

ISSN 1935-6978

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Society of Biblical Literature. Consultation on Midrash (5th : 2011) Re-presenting texts : Jewish and black biblical interpretation / edited by W. David Nelson, Rivka Ulmer. pages cm. -- (Judaism in context ; v. 16) These papers are from the 2010 (Atlanta, GA) SBL annual meeting and the 2011 (San Francisco, CA) SBL annual meeting. 1. Bible. Old Testament--Criticism, interpretation, etc., Jewish--Congresses. 2. Bible. Old Testament--Black interpretations--Congresses. 3. Bible. Old Testament--Comparative studies--Congresses. I. Nelson, W. David. II. Ulmer, Rivka. III. Title. BS1186.S64 2013 296.1’406--dc23 2013029025 Printed in the United States of America

TABLE OF CONTENTS Table of Contents ..................................................................................... v Introduction ............................................................................................ vii 1. Eurocentrism: The Tie That Binds Black Christian and White Jewish Biblical Scholarship ......................................... 1 W. David Nelson 2. The Noahic Curse in Rabbinic Literature: Racialized Hermeneutics or Ethnocentric Exegesis ................ 15 Jamal-Dominique Hopkins 3. Translating Rabbinic Texts on the Curse of Ham: What We Learn from Charles Copher and His Critics ........... 29 Rebecca Alpert 4. It Does Matter If You’re Black or White, Too-Black or Too-White, But Mestizo is Just Right ............... 43 Wil Gafney 5. Response to W. David Nelson, Wil Gafney, Jamal-Dominique Hopkins, and Rebecca Alpert ..................... 53 Stacy Davis 6. Rejoinder: Black and Jewish Hermeneutics ................................... 65 Rivka Ulmer 7. Preempting the Redemption: The Bones of the Ephraimites and the Messianic Pretender in Midrash.................................... 77 Rachel Adelman 8. The Poetry of Creation: Zevadiah and Amittai’s Yotzerot le-Ḥatan (“Groom’s Yotzers”) .....................................103 Laura Lieber

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INTRODUCTION Every year since 2001, the Midrash Section of the Society of Biblical Literature has held sessions at the Annual Meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature. Prior to said sessions scholars have submitted proposals on various midrashic topics. The proposals are screened and some of the proponents are invited to present their papers at the annual sessions. From these papers some of them are considered for publication. These proposed articles are subject to peer review and if accepted are edited and revised prior to publication. Since 2005 Georgias Press has published the following volumes of midrashic articles: (1) Recent Developments in Midrash Research: Proceedings of the 2002 and 2003 SBL Consultation on Midrash (ed. Lieve Teugels and Rivka Ulmer; Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2005). (2) Midrash and Context: Proceedings of the 2004 and 2005 SBL Consultation on Midrash (ed. Lieve Teugels and Rivka Ulmer; Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2007). (3) Interpretation, Religion and Culture in Midrash and Beyond: Proceedings of the 2006 and 2007 SBL Consultation on Midrash (ed. by Lieve Teugels and Rivka Ulmer; Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2008). (4) Midrash and the Exegetical Mind: Proceedings of the 2008 and 2009 SBL Consultation on Midrash (ed. Lieve Teugels and Rivka Ulmer; Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2011). Occasionally the annual Midrash sessions at the the SBL conferences hold a joint session with another group from the SBL. In 2011 the Midrash Section held a joint session with the AfricanAmerican Biblical Hermeneutics Section on the topic of “Race in Rabbinic Literature: Reflections on Charles Copher’s ‘The Black Presence in the Old Testament.’” Four separate papers were vii

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presented, as well as a response to these papers. Additionally, a “rejoinder” to these five articles was prepared. The first chapter in this book is by W. David Nelson who wrote “Eurocentrism: The Tie That Binds Black Christian and White Jewish Scholarship.” David Nelson raises the intriguing proposition that the academic discipline of the study of the Hebrew Bible, as well as rabbinic literature, has been dominated by a Eurocentric perspective. Nelson posits the question whether non-Christian and non-Caucasian scholarship has been neglected or diminished by the power of White/Christian domination in these fields of study; only relatively recently has this dominance been challenged. Have nonwhite racial groups, as well as Jewish groups, been undermined by the framework of racial, religious, cultural, and gender presuppositions that many European biblical scholars have held in common? Have interpretations of the Curse of Ham (derived from the curse of Canaan in Gen 9:24–27) been so distorted by bigots and racists so as to “justify” anti-Black prejudice and even the institution of black slavery? Other questions raised by Nelson include the shape and scope of a systematic inquiry into race in rabbinic literature. The title of the chapter by Jamal-Dominique Hopkins is “The Noahic Curse in Rabbinic Literature: Racialized Hermeneutics or Ethnocentric Exegesis.” He shifts from some racialized passages in rabbinic literature to the self-identification of groups obsessed with different purity rituals in the Qumran community and perhaps in Jerusalem. It is a struggle to comprehend, let alone evaluate, ancient texts. Jamal-Dominique Hopkins demonstrates just how far a careful discussion will lead, when he includes select passages from the Dead Sea Scrolls. Rebecca Alpert’s chapter entitled “Translating Rabbinic Texts on the Curse of Ham: What We Learn from Charles Copher and His Critics” presents a counter-argument to the first two chapters. She raises the issue of whether there has been an excessive focus upon anachronistic translations of obscure texts. For example, issues of mistranslation need to be addressed. She presents scholarly arguments that the connection between rabbinic texts and racialization is only an aesthetic category. Furthermore, she contends that “the issues of mistranslations, ethnocentrism, and aesthetics all coalesce in the question of sexuality that is raised in these rabbinic texts.” Additionally, reader reception has been

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critical in each generation of readers of these texts. The chapter concludes with a helpful bibliography. Wil Gafney has written “It Does Matter If You’re Black or White, Too-Black or Too-White, But Mestizo is Just Right.” She postulates that perhaps a rabbinic passage suggests that the preferred skin color of humans is exemplified by the offspring of biracial unions. She further examines some characteristics that disqualify certain Jews as serving as Kohanim (priests). Blackness was not the only disqualifying characteristic. Stacy Davis offers a “Response,” in which she states “… modern Western Christian interpretation of the Curse of Canaan makes the cursed Ham or Canaan black.” Furthermore, many late antique and medieval Christian authors equate the biblical Ham with Jews, whereas some modern Christian bible scholars virtually “remove” blacks from the bible in their analyses. She concludes with a bibliography. Rivka Ulmer in her “Rejoinder: Black and Jewish Hermeneutics” emphasizes non-racist universal values in rabbinic literature. She also highlights several problems in the texts under discussion and offers additional considerations of Blackness. Furthermore, she mentions nineteenth and twentieth centuries pseudo-scientific views of Blacks and Jews, as well as the fate of Blacks in Germany during the Holocaust. The above cited chapters focus upon Black biblical and rabbinic interpretation, while the last two chapters exclusively address issues pertaining to Jewish interpretations. Rachel Adelman presented “Preempting the Redemption: The Bones of the Ephraimites and the Messianic Pretender in Midrash.” In this chapter she explores the alleged premature exodus of the Ephraimites from Egypt. The second exodus deliberately avoided the “strewn bones of the Ephraimites killed in battle.” The Ephraimites were identified with a false messianic movement. She considers the Messiah ben Joseph as a messianic pretender and she examines the rabbinic attempts to reconcile the discrepancies in respect to the duration of the Hebrews’ enslavement in Egypt. Laura Lieber, “The Poetry of Creation: Zevadiah and Amittai’s Yotzerot le-Ḥatan (‘Groom’s Yotzers’)” researches the interrelationship between liturgical poetry and midrash. She examines two of the earliest examples of piyyutim (liturgical poems) for the bridegroom, including the formal patterns of the poems.

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She considers rabbinic sources for the imagery of the “first wedding” (of Adam and Eve). The appendices contain fresh English translations of the groom’s yotzer (“blessing of creation”) by the medieval poets (c. 9th century CE) Zevadiah and Amittai. Erev Shavu’ot 5773 Rivka Ulmer

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EUROCENTRISM: THE TIE THAT BINDS BLACK CHRISTIAN AND WHITE JEWISH BIBLICAL SCHOLARSHIP W. DAVID NELSON DEPT. OF RELIGION AND ETHICS, GROTON SCHOOL, GROTON, MA In this year, the 20th anniversary of the publication of Professor Cain Hope Felder’s seminal work, Stony the Road We Trod: African American Biblical Interpretation,1 it is both an honor and a privilege to have the opportunity to participate on this panel devoted to a consideration of the topic of “Race and Rabbinic Literature,” cosponsored by the African-American Biblical Hermeneutics and the Midrash Section of the Society of Biblical Literature.2 This is an important scholarly conversation, one that holds much potential, Cain Hope Felder, ed., Stony the Road We Trod: African American Biblical Interpretation (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1991). 2 “Race and Rabbinic Literature: Charles Copher’s ‘The Black Presence in the Old Testament.’” A joint session co-sponsored by the African-American Biblical Hermeneutics and Midrash Sections at the annual meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature, Monday, November 21, 2011, San Francisco, California, Session S21–103. 1

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and one that I hope will lead to an ongoing, unfolding future of academic conversations and cooperative, scholarly endeavors shared among both these Sections and their respective scholarly constituencies. Whereas my comments will focus most specifically on Charles Copher’s chapter “The Black Presence in the Old Testament,”3 I will also address and draw from some of the broader scholarly aspirations and insights of the work as a whole. In so doing, my intention is by no means to divert attention away from the high merit and enduring value of Copher’s individual contributions to both the publication and our shared investigation of the subject at hand.4 Rather, it is merely to highlight and draw upon the rich, intrinsic interconnectedness that exists between Copher’s particular contribution to the work and—given the common set of issues and challenges with which all its authors grappled and contended—the greater interests and goals of the work in its entirety. This is to say that Stony the Road We Trod is distinguished by the fact that there exists within it a rich, vibrant dynamic and spirit of scholarly mutuality among all the individual contributions that cohere to comprise the work as a whole—contributions that together have fomented and fostered its ongoing vitality as a publication that not only extended boundaries and opened avenues of inquiry upon its emergence twenty years ago, but also continues to do so decades thereafter.

RACE, RABBINICS AND THE BLACK PRESENCE IN THE OLD TESTAMENT In his chapter “The Black Presence in the Old Testament,” Copher takes up the challenging and difficult task of not merely identifying or determining, but also of retrieving with authenticity and greater clarity of insight, the original presence of black personages in the

Felder, Stony the Road, 146–64. Molefi Kete Asante, The Painful Demise of Eurocentrism (Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press, 1999), xiii. See Asante’s discussion of Eurocentrism. 3 4

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Hebrew bible,5 as well as greater understanding about the historical, social, cultural and religious impact exerted by Blackness6 in various periods of antiquity as evidenced by the Hebrew bible.7 I choose my words carefully here when I refer to his task as one of authentic retrieval. For, as Copher himself pointed out with much generosity of tone, spirit and restrained rhetoric, the task is a difficult one that involves negating, seeing through and beyond, and casting aside centuries’ worth of accrued, overlapping religious, scholarly and popular misreadings of the biblical text—misreadings stemming largely from racist epistemologies and motivations and skewed to no small degree by a range of socio-scholarly, racist tendencies:8 It is extremely difficult to deal with the subject of a black presence in the Old Testament… Among the difficulties, at points overlapping ones, confronting the investigator into this subject the following are to be noted: (1) a traditional view (influenced by ancient rabbinical interpretations of some Biblical texts) often seems to have precedence over what is in the texts themselves; (2) there are differences between ancient and modern concepts of what constitutes black when as a color term it is applied to peoples; (3) confusions have arisen See Stacey Floyd-Thomas, et al., Black Church Studies: An Introduction (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2007), 58. Here the authors trace the emergence and lineage of scholarship dedicated to uncovering the black presence in the bible, beginning in the nineteenth century. 6 See “How Blackness Became Demonized in the Church” in FloydThomas, et al, Black Church Studies for useful insights on the evolution of how “Blackness” is viewed in the Christian Church in the context of Black biblical hermeneutics. 7 See Cain Hope Felder’s discussion of black presence in the biblical tradition in Cain Hope Felder, Troubling Biblical Waters: Race, Class and Family (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1989), 12. 8 See Felder, Troubling Biblical Waters, xi. Here Felder contends that historical perspectives of nonwhite racial and ethnic groups in the biblical text have been undermined by the framework of racial, cultural, and gender presuppositions that European/Euro-American biblical scholars hold in common. 5

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W. DAVID NELSON in the use of the terms black and Negro by different persons in modern times; (4) there are differences and confusions between socio-legal definitions of black/Negro on one hand and anthropological/physiological definitions on the other; (5) disagreements have arisen among scholars with respect to the relative significance of color terms in the Biblical texts.9

In effect, what Copher points to here and elsewhere throughout his chapter are the many manners in which normatively accepted scholarly, religious and popular readings of the black presence in the bible, in actuality, historically have been epistemologicallygenerated, eisegetical misreadings into the biblical text of a wide variety of racist attitudes and preconceptions. Having accrued and agglomerated over time, these misreadings essentially have come to be accepted as tacit norms to such an extent that the scholarly task of righting the ship, so to speak, is not merely a weighty and difficult one, but also one that often tends to elicit counterintuitive, illogical, if not knee jerk, reactions of disdain, hermeneutics of suspicion, and reactionary counter-responses from those normative elements of society in which they have become so deeply ingrained. Such is the nature of the work confronting the marginalized biblical scholar, compelled as she or he is to work both on and from the outer boundaries of the normative academy. As evidenced by the outcomes of his effort, Copher rose effectively to the challenge. My intention today is neither to address nor to review the full range of Copher’s findings and observations, but, given the nature of our session, to suggest for our shared consideration some significant questions raised by the portions of his chapter that engage and pertain to early rabbinic midrashic traditions of interpretation. Copher traces the manner in which the misreading of the black presence in the Hebrew bible stems substantially from the long history of racially-motivated interpretations of the biblical

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Copher in Felder, Stony the Road, 146.

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Curse of Canaan recorded in Gen 9:24–2710—interpretations that typically read this curse as a curse upon Ham, and then utilize the Table of Nations in Gen 10:1–14 and in 1 Chr 1:8–16 to apply and extend what then becomes a divinely-mandated curse specifically unto all Black people, in all times throughout the ages and in all places throughout the world. As Copher also points out, a considerable amount of the unfortunate history of these biblical misreadings stems, in fact, from inherited appropriations over the passage of time of early midrashic traditions of interpretations of this biblical narrative. No doubt, those intimately familiar with rabbinic literature have encountered examples of these traditions of interpretation, interspersed as they are throughout the various strata of the corpus and canon. As but two examples, Copher cites the following traditions, which he gleaned from the Babylonian Talmud and from Genesis Rabbah: Our Rabbis Taught: “Three copulated in the ark, and they were all punished—the dog, the raven and Ham. The dog was doomed to be tied, the raven expectorates (into his mate’s mouth), and Ham was smitten in his skin. (b. Sanh. 108b) R. Huna said in R. Joseph’s name (that Noah declared), “you have prevented me from begetting a fourth son, therefore I curse your fourth son.” R. Huna also said in R. Joseph’s name: “you have prevented me from doing something in the dark (…co-habitation), therefore your seed will be ugly and dark-skinned.” R. Hiyya said: “Ham and the dog copulated in the Ark, therefore Ham came forth black-skinned while the dog publicly exposes his copulation. (Gen Rab. 36:7)

The gist of these midrashic interpretations is that, as a result of Noah’s curse, Ham and/or Canaan were turned black and their offspring were eternally “doomed” to bear the burden of both their

See “Race and Sacralization in the Old Testament” in Felder, Troubling Biblical Waters, 38ff, where Felder explores the processes of racism that are operational in Eurocentric biblical interpretation. 10

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skin color and accompanying, phenotypical characteristics.11 It is clear that the earliest generations of rabbis either inherited or created derogatory racial and social sentiments about, presumably, black Africans. That, in turn, motivated them either to fashion systematically or to appropriate as their own traditions of interpretations pertaining to the Curse of Ham that denigrate and cast aspersions unto the very physicality and physiology of the black bodies with which they were either familiar or about whom they had some awareness. In conjunction with similar GrecoRoman and early Christian traditions of interpretation from antiquity that associate the Curse of Ham with the divinely doomed denigration of Black physicality, these midrashic traditions proceeded to serve as the basis for a long, unfolding history of physical and spiritual dehumanization of black peoples throughout the subsequent passage of history. Copher’s employment of these and other, similar midrashic traditions leaves little room for augmentation or critical improvement; given the goals of his investigation and the nature of his interest in these materials, he essentially hits the nail on the head. However, Copher’s engagement with these midrashic traditions does compel us to pause and consider the fact that, historically, both the field of rabbinics and rabbinic literature and its constituent body of scholars seem to have devoted a disproportionately small amount of its scholarly attention to the broad topic of Race, particularly when compared to other, similar, perspectival and social issues with which the field seems to have engaged substantially in recent decades (e.g., Gender, Sexuality, Religious Polemics and Inter-religious Dialogue, Jew/Gentile, “Other,” etc.). I think it will be valuable, therefore, not only to consider how or why this is the case, but also to conceptualize together what a scholarly research endeavor into Race and rabbinic literature might look like, and what considerations it might have to take into account, in order that it proceed most effectively and rewardingly. See Floyd-Thomas, et al, Black Church Studies, 60ff for a discussion of the “Curse of Ham” as an exercise in marginalization, exploitation and conquest through the lens of Eurocentrism. 11

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EUROCENTRISM: THE TIE THAT BINDS BLACK CHRISTIAN AND WHITE JEWISH SCHOLARSHIP An inquiry into the subject of “Race and Rabbinic Literature” would be well-served at an overarching level by a deliberate articulation and understanding of the contextual reality within which both the Christian and Jewish biblical academies historically have functioned and with which they continue to contend. In his introduction to Stony the Road We Trod, Felder describes the dominant, Eurocentric, historical context and norms from which the modern, “critical” study of the bible emerged, and which historically have served—and to a very large and real extent continue to serve—as the normative yardstick against which most biblical scholarship is measured as meritorious to this very day: Eurocentric… aptly describes the world in which biblical scholars, including black biblical scholars, move every day. There is, of course, much biblical study that goes on in North America and other regions besides Europe, but the conventions, the standards, the procedures, and the assumptions of biblical scholarship, like those of nearly every field, have been set and fixed by white, male, European academics over the past several centuries. The extent of uniformity in scholarly norms throughout the world is striking evidence of persisting Euro-American domination. Indeed the worldwide uniformity itself reinforces the academic prejudice that the European way of doing things is “objective” and somehow not culture bound.12

Felder goes on to note that, beyond the specific boundaries of biblical scholarship, Eurocentric attitudes, perspectives and epistemologies have, in effect, set the stage and standards, if not for the entirety of the western Academy, then certainly for those realms therein devoted to the Humanities: The Eurocentric mind-set has tended to prescribe the rhythms, specify the harmonies, and determine the key signatures for 12

Felder, Stony the Road, 6.

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W. DAVID NELSON everyone’s scholarship. Clearly much of lasting value has been composed in this mode. But, as one participant put it, “There is a politics of knowledge in the academy.” Just as feminism has challenged patriarchy and shown how patriarchy and androcentrism warp the world for everyone, men as well as women, so black scholars must challenge the Eurocentric mindset not only for the sake of the black community but also for the health of all scholarship.13

This is the stubborn grain against which the various scholars in Stony the Road We Trod cut with their individual, often pioneering, contributions. Through the collective research efforts of its various authors, Stony the Road We Trod aimed not merely to carve out a more rightful and worthy space14 within the Academy of Religion for both Black biblical scholars and Black biblical scholarship, but also—and arguably more importantly—to peel away, refute and discard the stratified layers of Eurocentric, normative misreadings of the bible that over the centuries facilitated both (1) the conventionalization of socially, culturally, religiously and academically racist understandings of and attitudes toward the bible, and (2) the erasure or obfuscation of either meaningful black presence or positive black self-identification within the biblical text. Whereas it is, indeed, correct that the normative Eurocentrism with which black biblical scholarship has contended has historically been both white and male, it must not escape notice—particularly for the purpose of our collective shared interest—that this Eurocentric normativity has been not only white and male, but also Christian. This is to say, both the powerful, dominant roles that white Christianity, white Christian perspectives and white Christian theology have played as fundamental aspects of Eurocentric normativity and the skewed influences they have historically Ibid., 7. See Brian K. Blount, et al, True to Our Native Land: An African American New Testament Commentary (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2007), 2. Here the authors emphasize the importance of sociocultural space and seek to protest the dominant “paleontological” perspectives on biblical interpretation in traditional biblical scholarship. 13 14

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exerted in a range of ways are so clearly evident that, by necessity, they must form a major component of research into the subject of “Race and Rabbinic Literature.” As such, I suggest that the observations of both Felder in his introduction and the various contributors throughout the work about the dominance of Eurocentrism on the historical study of the bible must be properly augmented and articulated as follows: Throughout the span of western, European civilization and under its normative white, male, Christian gaze, power has been both promoted and preserved especially within the realms of both Academy and religion under the guise of “critical objectivity.”15 That is to say, “critical objectivity” has been employed as a theological and scholarly ruse to maintain the white, male, Christian normative status quo and to situate and maintain in place white, male Christian power of all sorts (e.g., intellectual, social, religious, etc.). In biblical studies in particular, and in religious scholarship in general, the discourse of “critical objectivity” is based upon a concerted determination to ignore the subjective experience of the marginalized to the extent that when their views are voiced or present, they are routinely deemed deviant. Throughout the breadth of western history, culture, religion, as well as specifically within religious and biblical scholarship, “critical objectivity” has operated as a white Christian ideology that erases and obfuscates culpability by assuming an omniscient voice, while simultaneously deeming difference as deviance, all in support of maintaining a selfdetermined status quo.16 In his analysis of what he calls, “Constantinian Christianity,” Cornel West discusses how this self-acclaimed form of Christianity supports a posture of objectivity that thwarts attempts to expose its systemic injustices and undermine its privileged position. For further exemplification, see Cornel West, Democracy Matters, (New York: Penguin Books, 2004), 45. 16 The consolidation of Christian religion, as it joined forces with social, political, and economic concerns, is how many liberation theologians have defined “Christendom.” See Enrique Dussel, History and the Theology of Liberation, translated by John Drury (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1976), 70; Joerg Rieger, Christ and Empire (Minneapolis: Fortress, 15

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It is important to highlight the intrinsic and influential nature of white, male Christianity as a fundamental aspect of the Eurocentrism of which Felder and others speak in Stony, in order to emphasize the fact that a common, yet for each distinctive, dynamic of contention and tension with this Eurocentrism serves as a potential tie of mutual interest in the subject of “Race and Rabbinic Literature” binding Black Christian and white, Jewish biblical scholarship.17 Far from representing a normative, scholarly agenda, Jewish biblical scholarship, likewise, has been relegated by the same Eurocentric forces to the margins of the normativity of the same white, male, Christian biblical academy.18 This has 2007), 71; James H. Cone, “Theology’s Great Sin,” in Marjorie BowersWheatley and Nancy Palmer Jones, eds., Soul Work: Anti-racist Theologies in Dialogue (Boston: Skinner House, 2002), 142; and, James H. Cone, The Cross and the Lynching Tree (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2011), 159. 17 Cornel West, Race Matters (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 1993), 71. In his chapter “On Black-Jewish Relations,” West notes that although there has been no “golden age” where blacks and Jews were free of tension, there have been better ages where their common histories of oppression and degradation served as springboards for “principled alliances.” The mutual interest in the subject of “Race and Rabbinic Literature” is highly reflective of such an alliance between the two groups. 18 Both the uneasy and unequal relationship between Jewish Studies biblical scholarship and the dominant realm of Christian biblical studies (in both its normative and non-normative manifestations), and the corresponding, professional challenges Jewish biblical scholars confront, are rooted deeply in a long, prejudicial history of religious polemics. For a survey of the many dynamics that have influenced this relationship and shaped its problematic, academic context, see Paula Frederickson and Adele Reinhartz, Jesus, Judaism and Christian Anti-Judaism (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2002). For an examination and exemplification of the reality of this relationship in a 19 th century, academic context, see Susannah Heschel, Abraham Geiger and the Jewish Jesus, (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1998). For examinations and exemplifications in an early and mid–20th century, academic context, see Susannah Heschel, “Nazifying Christian Theology: Walter Grundmann and the Institute for the Study and Eradication of Jewish Influence on German Church Life,” in Church History 63 (1994), 587–605; and, Susannah Heschel, The Aryan

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particularly been the case for Jewish biblical scholarship focused specifically on the history, literature and religious thought of the early/classical rabbinic period. Beginning, in fact, with the emergence in the 19th century of the generations of German-Jewish scholars whose methodological approaches and scholarly inquiries would come to constitute the renowned, European and Enlightenment-based “Wissenschaft des Judentums”—that is, the early modern “Scientific Study of Judaism” school of thought (the force of which reverberates to this day throughout the Jewish academy)—Jewish biblical scholarship—and, particularly rabbinic scholarship—has both aspired and been compelled to counter, contend with and correct a full range of socio-religious and historical misperceptions, misreadings and mistreatments that are similar in both scope and nature to those that have confronted the Black biblical academy. Regarding the subaltern, counterhistorical, and corrective nature of the Wissenschaft scholarly endeavor, Susannah Heschel notes in her introduction to Abraham Geiger and the Jewish Jesus that: Far from advancing an apologetic and assimilationist agenda, the Wissenschaft des Judentums did not abandon the interests of the Jews, nor seek simply to subsume Jewish history into the larger picture of the Christian West. Instead… Jewish historians sought to demolish the standard portrayal of Western history by looking at the Christian West from the perspective of Jewish experience. Theirs was a rebellious effort, a contestation of the prevailing viewpoint established by the Christian eye. [It was] a revolt of the colonized, bringing the tools of historiography to bear against Christianity’s

Jesus: Christian Theologians and the Bible in Nazi Germany (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2008). For contemporary examinations and exemplifications, see Daniel Boyarin, “The Subversion of the Jews: Moses’s Veil and the Hermeneutics of Supersession,” in Diacritics 23 (1993), 16–35; Daniel Boyarin, “The Jews in Neo-Lutheran Interpretations of Paul,” in Dialog 35 (1996), 193–7; and, Alan Cooper, “Biblical Studies and Jewish Studies,” in Martin Goodman, ed., The Oxford Handbook of Jewish Studies (Oxford: Oxford University Press), 14–35.

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W. DAVID NELSON intellectual hegemony… Intellectually, that hegemony began to end when the Wissenschaft des Judentums started writing the history of Christianity as a branch of Jewish history… The Wissenschaft des Judentums… is one of the earliest examples of postcolonialist writing. Nineteenth-century German-Jewish historians were the first to call into question accepted “truths” about the history of the West and the respective roles played in it by Christianity and Judaism.19

Whereas it is the case that the development and proliferation of Jewish Studies programs in the post-Wissenschaft-20th century have made great strides in advancing the broad interests, methods, goals and impact of many fields of Jewish scholarship,20 it is still the case that much of the impact and scholarly study of the period, literature and history of rabbinic Judaism and rabbinic literature has remained largely under the purview of, and of interest to, the Jewish academy in and of itself. This, undoubtedly, must be taken into consideration as a contributing factor to the manner in which the field of rabbinic literature has devoted inadequate scholarly attention and consideration to the subject of Race—that is, its ability somehow to direct its trajectories of research in a post-racial direction, so to speak. However, the field must be cognizant of the fact that, in so doing, it has run counter to the fact that Jewish Studies (and, to some degree, rabbinic literature as one of its primary and more marginalized fields) has historically functioned Heschel, Abraham Geiger, 2–3. For surveys and analyses of the scholarly origins, impetuses, goals, development, nature, and methodological foundations of Jewish Studies as an interdisciplinary field of study, see Martin Goodman, “The Nature of Jewish Studies,” in Martin Goodman, ed., The Oxford Handbook of Jewish Studies (Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2002), 1–13; Zev Garber, Methodology in the Academic Teaching of Judaism (Lanham, Maryland: University Press of America, 1987); Zev Garber, Academic Approaches to Teaching Jewish Studies (Lanham, Maryland: University Press of America, 2000); Jacob Neusner, Judaism in the American Humanities: Essays and Reflections (Chico, California: Scholars Press, 1981); and, Jacob Neusner, New Humanities and Academic Disciplines: The Case of Jewish Studies (Madison, Wisconsin: University of Wisconsin Press, 1984). 19 20

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and thrived in the Academy as a realm of academic, interdisciplinary advocacy on behalf of those issues of particular pertinence to Jews and Judaism, as well as those of concern to other marginalized scholarly perspectives.

CONCLUDING CONSIDERATIONS I will conclude, therefore, by delineating four considerations that I believe should inform intrinsically the shape and scope of a systematic inquiry into “Race in Rabbinic literature”: 1. Copher’s chapter renders obvious that a clear mandate exists for a more sustained, systematic investigation into the subject of “Race and Rabbinic Literature.” 2. The most effective and valuable undertaking of a research project of this nature would incorporate not only an investigation into the rabbinic corpus itself, in order to discern more about early rabbinic and early Jewish attitudes about Race, but also a Reception History approach, in order to investigate how rabbinic literature and early rabbinic attitudes about Race have shaped Jews and Judaism throughout the subsequent, post-rabbinic historical periods. Additionally, a Reception History approach would enable scholars to investigate how nonJews have both appropriated rabbinic literature and fashioned perceptions about early Jewish attitudes on the subject of Race, in order to advance and/or counter their own, particular attitudes, issues and concerns about Race and Religion. 3. Research of this nature will, by design, have to be both collaborative and subjective, in order both to bring the right skill sets to the endeavor and to counter the normative presumption of “critical objectivity” that could possibly hinder such an endeavor. As such, attention to epistemology will be of crucial importance: the perspective, training, outlooks and expertise of those scholars devoted to research of this nature will have to emulate, at least to some degree and in some fashion, those of the scholars we have assembled today for this panel discussion.

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W. DAVID NELSON 4. Finally, a collaborative research project of this nature will be well served by maintaining focus on the manner in which both Black Christianity and white Judaism have, historically, contended with the dominant force of white Christianity. This is not to neglect or overlook either the inherent racism that exists within white Judaism or the inherent anti-Judaism that exists within Black Christianity, but, rather, to acknowledge them, as well as to channel their epistemological strengths and weaknesses in a manner that will allow them to challenge, complement and offset each other, in order to foster a cutting edge, intellectual endeavor that is mutually honest and insightful to its fullest potential.

2

THE NOAHIC CURSE IN RABBINIC LITERATURE: RACIALIZED HERMENEUTICS OR ETHNOCENTRIC EXEGESIS JAMAL-DOMINIQUE HOPKINS J.D. INSTITUTE, ATLANTA, GA

The notion of racism within rabbinic tradition1 has scarcely been investigated in modern biblical scholarship. Included among some of the scholarship that has given attention to this topic has been the work of Charles B. Copher.2 Of particular interest has been his This study in no way views rabbinic literature and tradition as monolithic. This varied collection of works reflects the views, exegesis, and opinions of many rabbis. 2 Much of this examination has been the topic of lectures, first given at the 1987 Annual Charles B. Copher Lecture at the Interdenominational Theological Center in Atlanta, Georgia (under the title, “Three Thousand Years of Biblical Interpretation with Reference to Black Peoples,” and later in 1987–1988 at the Jessie Herman Holmes Memorial Lecture at the Howard University School of Divinity. This same work by Charles B. Copher appears in print in The Journal of the Interdenominational Theological Center 13 (1986), 225–46; African American Religious Studies: An Interdisciplinary Anthology (ed. Gayraud Wilmore; Durham: Duke University Press, 1989), 105–28; and Black Biblical Studies: An Anthology of Charles 1

15

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treatment within “The Black Presence in the Old Testament,” which appears in the 1991 groundbreaking collection of African American biblical interpretative essays, Stony the Road We Trod.3 Copher’s focus on the presence and nature of ethnic Blackness within the Hebrew scriptures turns to two specific Genesis accounts: Gen 9:24–27 concerning the Noahic curse, and the Curse of Cain in Gen 4:1–16. Regarding the latter, Copher notes that “the ancient rabbis declared that he [Cain] was turned Black in connection with his having offered an unacceptable sacrifice: The smoke from his sacrifice blew back upon his face, blackening him.”4 Gen Rab. 22:6, perhaps a misconstrued reading resultant from 1) a misinterpreted textual construction, and 2) a misunderstood notion regarding the symbolism of color,5 further notes that Cain’s face was blackened as a result of making an unacceptable offering: And Cain was very wroth and his countenance fell: it [his face] became like a firebrand.

B. Copher, Biblical and Theological Issues on the Black Presence in the Bible (Chicago: Black Light Fellowship, 1993), 95–120. 3 Cain Hope Felder, ed., Stony the Road We Trod: African American Biblical Interpretation (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991). Copher’s essay is entitled “The Black Presence in the Old Testament,” 146–64. 4 Copher, “The Black Presence in the Old Testament,” 148. Copher, however, does not cite the exact source of this reference. 5 David M. Goldenberg as well as Gay Byron discuss the notion of symbolic Blackness in the ancient worlds. Goldenberg notes that in the Animal Apocalypse, Blackness is symbolic for evil. He notes that the etymological link of Blackness as representing color is found in the Tannaitic literature. See David M. Goldenberg, The Curse of Ham: Race and Slavery in Early Judaism, Christianity and Islam (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005), 154–55. On his discussion of rabbinic writings misconstruing the terminology (taking symbolic Blackness to mean one’s physical appearance—ethnicity), see his page 179. Cf. Gay Byron, Symbolic Blackness and Ethnic Difference in Early Christian Literature (New York: Routledge, 2002).

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Of particular concern has been the curious readings which 1) viewed ethnic Blackness as a curse, and 2) interpreted and, thus, equated Noah’s curse of Canaan as legitimizing a so-called “Curse on Ham” who also was viewed as ethnically Black, and, thus, related to the curse. First appearing within the Babylonian Talmud (b. Sanh. 108b) and the late Amoraic Midrashic literature, Tanḥ. Noaḥ 13, 15 (a late Amoraic Midrashic commentary on the Pentateuch), and Gen Rab. 22:6, (which is also late—Amoraic Midrashic Literature), Copher raises concern over the influence and imposition of these rabbinic citations over the biblical witness: Among the difficulties, at points overlapping ones, confronting the investigator into this subject the following are to be noted: (1) a traditional view (influenced by ancient rabbinical interpretations of some biblical texts) often seem to have precedence over what is in the texts themselves…6

This difficulty is all the more curious when one notices that these rabbinic readings stand outside both the biblical and intertestamental literary witness. According to Gen 9:22–27: And Ham, the father of Canaan, saw the nakedness of his father, and told his two brothers outside. Then Shem and Japheth took a garment, laid it on both their shoulders, and walked backward and covered the nakedness of their father; their faces were turned away, and they did not see their father’s nakedness. When Noah awoke from his wine and knew what his youngest son had done to him, he said, “Cursed be Canaan; lowest of slaves shall he be to his brothers.” He also said, “Blessed by the LORD my God be Shem; and let Canaan be his slave. May God make space for Japheth, and let him live in the tents of Shem; and let Canaan be his slave.”7

The status of Ham in the biblical witness is further supported in intertestamental Jewish literary tradition. This material, being contemporaneous with the New Testament period, thus stresses Copher, “The Black Presence in the Old Testament,” 146. Gen 9:18–27. All biblical passages are taken from the New Revised Standard Version, unless otherwise indicated. 6 7

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the force by which Ham’s status during the Late Second Temple Period is far from what is recorded in rabbinic literature. In a Qumran commentary known as 4QCommentary on Genesis A (also known as 4Q252 ii 5b), Ham is explicitly noted as being blessed by God: And Noah awoke from his wine and knew what his youngest son had done. And he said: “Cursed be Canaan; he will be, for his brothers, a slave of slaves!” But he did not curse Ham, but only his son, for God had blessed the sons of Noah. 8

Likewise, the pseudepigraphic work known as Jubilees implicitly stresses Ham’s status: he is not cursed! In Jubilees 7:7–11 and 13, Ham reacts in anger to his father’s pronounced curse upon his youngest son, Canaan; as a result, Ham and his sons separate from the patriarch: And when evening came, he entered into his tent, and lay down drunk. And he slept, and was uncovered in his tent as he was sleeping. And Ham saw Noah, his father, naked. And he went out, and told his two brothers outside. And Shem took his garment, and he stood up, he and Japheth, and they placed the garment on their shoulders and, turning backward, they covered the shame of their father, and their faces were backward. And Noah woke up from his wine, and knew everything which his youngest son had done to him. And he cursed his son and said, “Cursed is Canaan, let him be an enslaved servant of his brothers.”And he blessed Shem… And Ham knew that his father cursed his youngest son, and it was disgusting to him that he cursed his son. And he separated

All Dead Sea Scrolls passages are taken from Florentino García Martínez and Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar, The Dead Sea Scrolls: Study Edition (2 vol.; Leiden: Brill, 1997–1998), unless otherwise noted. The official publication of this text appears in George J. Brooke, et. al., Qumran Cave 4.XVII: Parabiblical Text, Part 3 (DJD XXIII; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), 185–207. 8

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from his father, he and his sons with him: Cush and Mizraim and Put and Canaan.9

This reading, which comes from an Ethiopic translation, likely comes from an established, albeit non-extant Hebrew composition and subsequent manuscript of Jubilees (similar to those found at Qumran);10 moreover, this passage follows the composite reading of Gen 9:18–27. Here, again, Ham is not cursed. Both 4Q252 and the Jubilees passages, along with a first century CE account of Josephus (Ant. 6:2), which are contemporaneous with the New Testament period,11 harmonize with the Genesis 9 witness. On the basis of the biblical tradition: from the Genesis 9 account to the Second Temple period, rabbinic and other literary sources propounding the Curse of Ham and Blackness, stand outside the entire biblical and intertestamental tradition and witness. It is quite possible that rabbinic literature that describes Ham and Blackness as cursed reflects aggadic midrash, which, according to Craig Evans is “more imaginative in its attempts to fill in the gaps in Scripture…”12 Evans further suggests that this style of midrash attempts to fill in the gaps to, “explain away apparent Taken from James C. VanderKam, The Book of Jubilees (CSCO 511; SA 88; Louvain: Peeters, 1989). 10 The book of Jubilees is preserved in fourteen (possibly fifteen) manuscript copies from five Qumran caves (1, 2, 3, 4, and 11). The majority of these manuscripts were found in cave 4 (4Q176, and 4Q216– 224). Other texts found at Qumran that seem to resemble Jubilees are 4Q225–27. These works are also known as Pseudo-Jubilees. Other possible texts (which remain in dispute) are 4Q482–83 and two fragmentary manuscripts from Masada (Masada 1276–1786). The Qumran copies of Jubilees date from around 150–100 BCE (the earliest) to 50 CE (the latest). 11 The book of Jubilees and 4Q252 represents a Second Temple period, st 1 century BCE and CE witness concerning the notion of Ham. This, along with a similar 1st century account of Josephus is, in fact, in accord with the tradition represented in Gen 9:24–27. Here, Ham, indeed, was blessed by God. 12 Craig A. Evans, Ancient Texts for New Testament Studies: A Guide to the Background Literature (Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers, 2005), 220. 9

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discrepancies, difficulties, and unanswered questions.”13 If these passages are, indeed, meant to do just this, perhaps the discrepancies, difficulties and unanswered questions related to Blackness and Ham’s status spoke to an element of ethnocentric rabbinic interest rooted in racism. Copher’s work notes that rabbinic references variously link the status of Ham with Black-skinned people in midrashic literature from 200 to 500 CE. Copher and others note the link between Ham’s sin and his color in Gen Rab. 36.7: As translated, Midrash Rabbah-Genesis reads in part: R. Huna said in R. Joseph’s name: (Noah declared), “you have prevented me from begetting a fourth son, therefore your seed will be ugly and dark-skinned.” R. Hiyya said: “Ham and the dog copulated in the Ark, therefore Ham came forth blackskinned while the dog publicly exposes its copulation. 14

Goldenberg asserts here that the idea behind Noah’s statement “you have prevented me from begetting a fourth son,” rests upon rabbinic thought suggesting that Ham castrated Noah, thus preventing him from doing that which is done in the dark (i.e. sexual acts), wherefore Ham was cursed with blackness.15 Goldenberg goes on to note other rabbinic passages including Gen Rab. 40:4; Cant Rab. 1:5.1; b. Ber. 50a; b. Pesaḥ. 88a; b. Meg. 14b; b. ‘Abod. Zar. 16b and b. Ned. 50b that describe blackness of skin as ugly or shameful and something to be detested.16 Talmudic tradition asserts that based on an understanding of Gen 6:18; 7:7 and 8:16, that males and females were to be separated in the ark. Ham along with two others were viewed as Ibid. See Copher, Black Biblical Studies, 103. Also, see Goldenberg, The Curse of Ham, 97. 15 See Goldenberg, The Curse of Ham, 105. According to Goldenberg, “The original rabbinic etiology of sex-in-the-ark, however, meant to explain why there are darker-skinned people in the world, and these people consisted of all the dark-skinned descendants of Ham, not just the black Africans.” 16 Goldenberg, The Curse of Ham, 9–7 and 283 notes 17–19. 13 14

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transgressing this prohibition; according to y. Ta’an. 1:6, 64d and b. Sanh. 108a: Ham, the dog, and the raven had sexual relation in the ark. Ham went forth darkened/blackened, the dog went forth with the characteristic of publicly copulating; and the raven went forth different from other creatures.17

Further disturbing reference to the so-called Curse of Ham, and his resulting physiognomy is noted in Tanḥ. Noaḥ 13, 15: Moreover, because you twisted your head around to see my nakedness, your grandchildren’s hair shall be twisted into kinks, and their eyes, red, again, because your lips jested at my misfortune, theirs shall swell; and because you neglected my nakedness, they shall go naked and their male members shall be shamefully elongated.18

Goldenberg also cites Jewish literature that relates Ham’s sin with the curse of slavery. The link between the curse and its relation to black-skinned people and communities began to surface here with this material. Re-envisioning Gen 9:18–27 as a curse upon Ham and all of his progeny, not just Canaan, thus damned all the communities that would arise from this lineage. This sociological stratification continues to misconstrue the entire biblical and intertestamental witness. Rabbinic tradition, and its apparent authoritative influence on modern biblical interpretations, is particularly curious as relates to modern American social policies. Mark Noll has poignantly noted, that “in the uncertain days of the late 1860 and early 1861, the pulpits of the United States were transformed into instruments of political theology.”19 Policy related to pro-slavery edits during the antebellum period, for instance, largely formed on the basis of This is from y. Ta’an. 1:6, 64d. Cf. also Copher, Black Biblical Studies, 103. On the misconstruing of the idea of elongation, see Goldenberg, who suggests this reference is to circumcision. 19 Mark Noll, Civil War as a Theological Crisis (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2006), 1. 17 18

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biblical interpretations; here Gen 9:24–27 was just one of many scriptural accounts viewed as legitimizing both the institution of slavery and the benighted nature of Africa. In essence, the conflation of scripture rendered slavery as not only legitimate, but reserved for Black people. Pro-slavery hermeneutical readings from scripture were promulgated by 19th century rabbis. One in particular was Rabbi Morris J. Raphall. As recorded by Noll: An even more interesting contrast with Beecher’s confident enlistment of the Bible against slavery was offered by Rabbi Morris J. Raphall, who on the same day of national fasting that provided Beecher the occasion of his sermon, addressed the Jewish Synagogue of New York. Like Van Dyke’s, his sermon directly contradicted what Beecher had claimed. Raphall’s subject was the biblical view of slavery. To the learned rabbi, it was imperative that issues of ultimate significance be adjudicated by “the highest Law of all,” which was “the revealed Law and Word of God.” … Raphall’s sermon was filled with close exegesis of many passages from the Hebrew Scriptures. Significantly, this Northern rabbi was convinced that the passages he cited taught beyond cavil that the curse pronounced by Noah in Genesis 9 on his son Ham had consigned “fetish-serving benighted Africa” to everlasting servitude. Raphall was also sure that a myriad of biblical texts demonstrated as clearly as demonstration could make it that slavery was a legitimate social system.20

The authoritative influence of rabbinic interpretations is particularly troubling with regard to policy, in essence trumping biblical authority. The composite-like nature of rabbinic literature reflects variant thought, exegesis, legal decisions and opinions from (at many times) dissenting rabbis. The polemical nature of rabbinic tradition makes for, at times, imaginative literature within interpretative narrative.

20

Noll, Civil War as Theological Crisis, 3.

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IDEOLOGICAL VARIANCE WITHIN QUMRANIC LITERATURE Similar polemic with regard to dissenting interpretation and ideology is also found within the Dead Sea sectarian writings from Qumran. One such polemic work is the Dead Sea text Miqsat Ma’ase Ha-Torah, also referred to as MMT. This work sheds some light on purity stipulations found among certain Hebrew bible laws. The text describes the concerns of a “we” party to a “you” party about certain sacrificial and purity matters which a “they” group fails to observe. It is likely that the “we” party represented the Qumran-related community, whereas the “you” party reflected the other group(s) from the larger Dead Sea Scrolls movement of which the “we” party also was formerly a part.21 The “they” party likely represented the temple authority in Jerusalem.22 MMT, also a composite text, expresses a high regard for sacrificial and purity related matters. These cultic illustrations highlight a number of significant matters where the variant Jewish sectarian groups diverge: 



Firstly, cultic issues help to divulge a three-fold tension regarding the identity and cultic ideology of the “we” group, the “you” group (which was another group or groups from the same movement to which the “we” group belonged) and the “they” group (which reflected the current temple establishment in Jerusalem). Secondly, the particular way which sacrificial and purity matters are listed, in the style of a two-sided address,

For a description of the community linked to the Dead Sea Scrolls and Qumran settlement see Jamal-Dominique Hopkins, “Hebrew Patriarchs in the Book of Jubilees: The Use of Fröhlich’s Descriptive Analysis as an Interpretative Methodology,” in With Wisdom as a Robe: Qumran and Other Jewish Studies in Honour of Ida Fröhlich (ed. Károly Daniel Dobos and Miklós Köszeghy; Hebrew Bible Monographs 21; Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2009), 239–52, 243 note 19. 22 It is plausible that this third party reflected the group to which the Wicked Priest (described in the Dead Sea Scrolls commentary on Habakkuk) belonged. 21

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

suggests that this document was intended as an epistle to an internal yet separate fellow group (the “you” group). At the same time, MMT’s cultic matters provide insight concerning the worship ideology of the “we” group’s opponent (the “they” group). In this regard, MMT’s sacrificial and purity related descriptions show some of the contentious issues surrounding certain Jewish groups of the late Second Temple period Thirdly, MMT’s sacrificial and purity regulations further show some important reasons why MMT’s principal community separated from Jerusalem’s priestly establishment.

MMT outlines what it deems to be important cultic regulations. These regulations were initially disclosed to MMT’s recipients (the “you” group and possibly those who identified with them), with the intent that they (the recipients) might fully understand and adhere to certain regulations.23 MMT mainly is concerned with the correct guidelines for maintaining cultic purity and holiness not only for the people of Israel, but also for the priests, the temple, and the land of Israel as well as all Jerusalem. MMT also is concerned with the correct observance of sacrificial regulations. Correctly observing these regulations was associated with maintaining holiness and purity.

MMT B 13–17 AND 64–72—NOTIONS OF PURIFICATION MMT B 13–17 as well as B 64–72 is in opposition to rabbinic sources only. Here there is correlation with the purity stipulation in the biblical text. Both B 13–17 and 64–72 carry the general idea of waiting until sunset, after being immersed, to become ritually pure. In MMT B 13–17, the purification process involved those who participated in the red cow of purification offering. Those involved included the person who slaughtered the cow, the one who burned it, the one who gathered its ashes, and the one who sprinkled the

This is the implication in 4QMMT C 10, 26 and especially 31, ‫כתבנו‬ is the term which introduces the stated intent of this document. 23

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waters of purification. This particular regulation borrows from Numbers 19. In MMT B 64–72, the purification process concerning leprosy is given. After the leper had been shaven and immersed, he had to wait until sunset on the eighth day before being rendered pure, after which he was permitted to eat the holy foods (‫)קדשים‬. The idea of waiting until sunset, after being immersed, to become ritually pure is similarly found in 11Q19 XLV 7–10, 17–18; XLIX 19–21, LI 2–5; 4Q266 6 ii 4 and 4Q269 8 ii 3–6. 11Q19 XLV 7–10 describes a person who has a seminal emission as impure. This person was to immerse himself and wash his clothes on the first and third day. After immersing on the third day, he was rendered pure at sunset, thus allowing him to enter into the Temple. 11Q19 XLV 17–18 describes the purification process of the leper. The leper was considered impure for seven days, where on the seventh day he was purified after bringing his purgation offering. After this purification process, the leper was allowed access to the purity (‫ )טהרה‬in the temple city. However, he had to wait until the eighth day at sunset before being rendered completely pure, and thus allowed to eat the pure food )‫ )קדשים‬and enter the sanctuary.24 11Q19 XLIX 19–21 describes a person who has had contact with a human corpse as impure.25 This person was to wash his clothes and immerse on the first, third and seventh day. On the third and seventh day, he also was to be sprinkled with the waters of purification and wash his utensils. After sunset on the seventh day, he was rendered pure, thus being able to touch the pure food. 11Q19 LI 2–5, which refers to Lev 11:29–38, describes the person that has touched an impure creeping dead animal as impure.

For discussion of the difference of the pure food )‫ (קדשים‬and the sacred food (‫)קדשים‬, see Elisha Qimron in Elisha Qimron and John Strugnell, Qumran Cave 4.V: Miqsat Ma’ase Ha-Torah (DJD X; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), 168, note 166. 25 Discussion concerning the purity status of a corpse is also noted in MMT B 73–74. 24

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This person was to wash his clothes and immerse, after which he would be rendered clean after sundown. 4Q266 6 ii 4 describes the impure state of a woman with a discharge. She was to wait until sunset after eight days of her purification process before being allowed to eat anything holy or to enter into the Temple. 4Q269 8 ii 3–6 describes the pure man who had waited until sundown as the one who sprinkles the waters of purification on impure utensils and clothing. The aforementioned illustrations, generally coinciding with MMT B 13–17 and 64–72, likely served as a reminder and exhortation to the recipient(s) of MMT in order that they might maintain purity. Moreover, these same illustrations contrast with the rabbinic view, which reflect the view of MMT’s opponents. Rabbinic halakhah allowed a person who had immersed without waiting until sunset (called a Tevul yom) to participate in certain cultic ceremonies.26 With regard to B 13–17, Tannaitic sources described a Tevul yom as being qualified to participate in all aspects of the red cow ceremony. M. Parah 3:7–8 described a Tevul yom as qualified to burn the cow. In this tannaitic source, the rabbis intentionally defiled the priest who was to burn the cow. This priest was persuaded by the rabbis to perform his task immediately after being immersed, yet without waiting until sunset, in order to show the invalidity of the Sadducees’ views. According to b. Yoma 43b, b. Yebam. 73a and b. Zebaḥ. 17a, a Tevul yom also was qualified to sprinkle the waters of purification in the red cow ceremony.27 In the case of the leper, rabbinic sources stressed that he only needed to immerse if he wanted to eat the hallowed foods.28

The Tevul yom was allowed to participate in all sacred rites outside of the consumption of sacrifices or Terumah. See m. Kelim 1:5 and t. Parah 3:6. 27 In the case of the Tevul yom participating in all aspects of the red cow ceremony see Lawrence Schiffman, “Pharisaic and Sadducean Halakhah in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” DSD 1 (1994), 289–90. 28 See m. Ḥag. 3:3. Also cf. m. Neg. 14:2–3. Also see Elisha Qimron in Qimron and Strugnell, Qumran Cave 4.V: Miqsat Ma’ase Ha-Torah, 166–70, who discusses the matter of the leper in more detail. 26

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With regard to B 13–17 On the basis of the above-mentioned sources, it is probable that MMT’s opponents (the “they” group or groups) did not wait until sunset, after being immersed, before performing the red cow ceremony. Hence, MMT’s principal community viewed the ashes used in making the waters of purification as defiled. Moreover, this defiled purification water most likely was sprinkled by an impure person, a Tevul yom. In light of the variant streams of thought reflected in both literary corpora (rabbinic literature and Qumran-Dead Sea Scrolls’ literature), one begins to witness the hermeneutical variance of equally variant Jewish groups. That which harmonizes with the biblical literary witness is able to shed light or perhaps further explicate certain views; literary accounts that stands in opposition to the biblical literary witness can be surmised as imaginative thought; in the case of our particular investigation on the so-called Hamitic curse and curse of Blackness, this imaginative thought perhaps is informed by an ethnocentric and racialized exegetical agenda.29

A fuller discussion on the notion of theological racialization has been dealt with in J. Kameron Carter’s, Race: A Theological Account (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008). 29

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TRANSLATING RABBINIC TEXTS ON THE CURSE OF HAM: WHAT WE LEARN FROM CHARLES COPHER AND HIS CRITICS REBECCA ALPERT TEMPLE UNIVERSITY

I confess I had not read Stony the Road We Trod when I was invited to join this conversation, and was unfamiliar with the works of Charles Copher. But I have come to understand the importance of his work as a first generation African American biblical scholar, and of this volume for bringing attention to African American biblical scholarship, often neglected by the field of biblical studies. But no matter what its broader contributions, Copher’s work along with other works written from an Afrocentric perspective have had the unintended consequence of suggesting that ancient rabbinic texts were the earliest sources for associating Africans aand slavery through “the Curse of Ham” that was used as the primary religious warrant for the Atlantic Slave Trade. Subsequent scholarly treatments by Benjamin Braude, Ephraim Isaac, David Aaron, David Goldenberg, Stephen Haynes, at the turn of the last century, and more recently David Whitford and Stacy Davis, have all challenged this thesis, and argued persuasively that the rabbinic texts were not the source of this transmission. David Goldenberg 29

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shifts the blame to tenth century Muslim sources. David Whitford does likewise for early modern Christian sources. Davis places blame squarely on American slave masters of the South. Like Davis, Stephen Haynes argues that blaming ancient Jewish, Christian, or Muslim readings is hardly the point, and concludes: … quests for the historical moment in which the purity of scripture was tainted by racist exegesis obscures the racist potency in modern Bible readers and in the Bible itself. 1

I agree with Haynes that the effort to pinpoint the source of “the Curse of Ham” is counterproductive, and may distract from other considerations like the racism of readers and the bible itself. But I also see another problem with this scholarly exchange. In the process of defending Jewish sources against the “Curse of Ham” critique, scholars have made inadequate arguments to explain the aggadic materials in rabbinic, medieval, and modern Jewish literature that may not connect Africans to slavery, but do connect the story of Ham with Blackness, and so raise a host of other problematic issues that have caused misunderstandings among Black Christians, Ashkenazi Jews, and Black Jews. Even without the association to slavery, the medieval and modern interpretations and translations of rabbinic texts (and the texts themselves) that Copher drew on are disturbing to contemporary sensibilities. While it is unfair to judge texts taken out of context, it is hard to avoid the plain sense that English translations of these texts use stereotypically negative descriptions of the physical attributes associated with people of African descent to illuminate the passages from Genesis. In trying to counter popular notions about Jews and the slave trade current in early Afrocentric thought, scholarly efforts to defend rabbinic literature continue a cycle of blame. Rather than coming to terms with the texts, most of the scholarly refutations sought to explain away, retranslate, isolate, and defend these rabbinic passages. Recent scholarship has failed to acknowledge that because Blackness was associated with Ham’s crime and punishment in these texts the concomitant deprecation of African physiognomy that was 1

Haynes, 2002, 221.

TRANSLATING RABBINIC TEXTS ON THE CURSE OF HAM 31 deployed, however innocent, needs to be accounted for. And the blatant racialized language in the modern compilations (notably the Soncino translations of the Talmud and The Hebrew Myths of the Book of Genesis of Graves/Patai) has also not been faced squarely by those who hold Jewish tradition innocent. “Black Presence” plays a strategic role in this conversation in its clear adumbration of the problematic texts. Copher opens with an argument for what he calls “the old Hamite” approach. Copher states that this approach was “set forth by the ancient rabbis and adopted by later interpreters including not only Jews but also Christians.”2 He summarizes this view: “Ham and/or Canaan, more often Ham, was turned black as a result of Noah’s curse, and his descendants were doomed to bear the same color.”3 (Copher thus concludes based on this and other evidence that when any of the descendants of Ham (Cush, Mitzraim, Put, Canaan) appear in the Hebrew bible, there is a black presence. Subsequently scholars have supported Copher’s contention that Africans are indeed present in the bible, although limited primarily to descendents of Cush or people from Ethiopia. To support his argument, Copher relied on the work of Winthrop Jordan whose 1969 White over Black: American Attitudes Toward the Negro was the most frequently cited source that drew attention to rabbinic commentaries on Gen 9:20–27 as evidence of ancient Jewish writings on Blackness. Copher and Jordan were writing in the context of Afrocentric ideas circulating in that era. Jordan drew the measured but erroneous conclusion that late medieval and early Renaissance Christian interest in rabbinic texts was a likely source for the “Curse of Ham” as a warrant for slavery, although he was clear that direct causation could not be proven.4 This tentative suggestion became part of the greatly exaggerated accusations about the Jewish roots of the Atlantic slave trade promulgated by the Nation of Islam. Copher, however, only makes the connection to Blackness, not slavery, incorporating the idea that the rabbis, in order to explain this enigmatic story, were Copher, 1991, 147. Ibid. 4 Jordan, 1969, 18. 2 3

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writing negatively about Africans and Blackness. Copher cites Jordan in his earliest reference to these texts, a speech delivered to a Jewish audience in 1975, which concludes: Reviewing and summarizing, there were Black-Jewish interactions during the entire course of Biblical history… In the main, except for the relatively few universalistic passages in the Bible, the reactions, which are from the Jewish side only, are negative in nature. And in the Babylonian Talmud, Midrashim, and legends the reactions are wholly anti-Black, despite the conclusion that Blacks formed a part of the ancient Hebrew-Israelite-Jewish community.5

COPHER’S ROLE In “Black Presence” Copher uses the texts to support the idea that Ham’s descendants were Black, based on rabbinic exegesis of the text, citing three examples of the use of the exegetical tool “measure for measure” to explain Ham’s crime and punishment. Copher quotes the English translation of Sanhedrin 108b that explains that because Ham had sex on the ark along with (although not with, as some suggest) the dog and the raven, he is punished by being “smitten in his skin.” Copher notes that the English edition glosses this phrase to mean that “from him descended Cush (the Negro) who is black-skinned,” based on Rashi’s twelfth century commentary on this passage from the Gemara. Copher quotes from Bereshit Rabbah (again from the English translation) where Rav Huna gives another interpretation of the curse (in R. Joseph’s name): You have prevented me from doing something in the dark, therefore your seed will be ugly and dark skinned. [This reference is a “pun”—mefuham or charcoal is the word used for dark skinned]6

Last, and most troubling, Copher cites Tanḥuma Noaḥ in the translation from Hebrew Myths: The Book of Genesis to which the 5 6

Copher, 1975, 16. Copher, 1991, 148.

TRANSLATING RABBINIC TEXTS ON THE CURSE OF HAM 33 compilers, Robert Graves and Rafael Patai, add their own interpretive frame: Moreover because you twisted your head around to see my nakedness, your grandchildren’s hair shall be twisted into kinks, and their eyes red; again because your lips jested at my misfortune, theirs shall swell; and because you neglected my nakedness, they shall go naked, and their male members shall be shamefully elongated. [Men of this race are called Negroes.]7

Of course the last line is not in the ancient text, but interestingly enough, when Copher quotes this line from Graves and Patai, he does not include the reference from the Gemara (b. Pesaḥ. 113a) that they subsequently interpolate: Men of this race are called Negroes. Their forefather Canaan commanded them to love theft and fornication, to be banded together in hatred of their masters, and never to tell the truth. 8

This last text references the political enemy of ancient Israel, Canaan (not Ham), but the Graves and Patai version elides Canaan and Ham. Louis Ginzberg also incorporates the reference in his retelling of the Noah story in Legends of the Jews, but without the explicit references to “Negroes” as Canaan’s descendants. The Graves and Patai construction is shocking to contemporary ears; it is striking that it was not shocking in 1964. Even without that gloss, however, it is difficult to avoid a plain sense reading that interprets these passages (and modern commentaries on them) as anti-Black, as Copher does. The contemporary scholarship that defends these passages takes as its starting point that the goal of the rabbinic texts was to clarify the numerous difficulties in the biblical passage, not to disparage black Africans or provide a warrant for slavery. No doubt, the rabbis sought to explain what Ham did to merit Noah’s curse of enslavement that was visited not on him but on his son Canaan and his progeny, and they used the standard (and 7 8

Ibid. Graves and Patai, 1964, 121.

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problematic) exegetical technique of middah ke-neged middah (“measure for measure”) to solve these puzzles. In this strategy, Blackness is understood throughout as punishment, although what blackness means is subject to debate.

LOST IN TRANSLATION Because their goal was to hold Jewish textual tradition blameless from the accusation that these passages provide the warrant for African slavery, most contemporary scholars fail to deal with the problems inherent in the texts and their modern translations into English. The scholars whose goal is to free rabbinic texts from culpability are themselves responsible for overstating the innocence of rabbinic texts and over-reacting to Afrocentric scholarship that they perceive as vilifying the rabbinic traditions. Critics re-enact the rabbinic exegetical technique of middah keneged middah (since you charged my ancestors with anti-Black racism I will charge you with anti-Semitism) rather than coming to terms with some of the more unpleasant aspects of these texts and really grappling with what Blackness as punishment means. These scholars seek to discredit Winthrop Jordan and by extension Copher, for relying on what Benjamin Braude described as anachronistic translations of obscure texts. It is curious, however, that Jordan is held responsible rather than the encyclopedias, compilations, and translations in which he and others found their evidence. In the late modern world in which the authors of those texts lived, negative associations to the physical characteristics of people of African descent were both accepted and commonplace, and should have been named as a cause for concern. Benjamin Braude charged Jordan with concluding that in rabbinic texts “hostility toward black Africans was deep rooted and repugnantly vituperative.”9 But this is a gross over-statement of Jordan’s conclusions. While Braude and others attack Jordan for his misuse of rabbinic texts, they do not acknowledge the context of Jordan and Copher’s work, an era where for the first time Black 9

Braude, 1997, 129.

TRANSLATING RABBINIC TEXTS ON THE CURSE OF HAM 35 and White scholars found a voice to critique the stereotypes that were rampant in Western literature (including English translations of rabbinic texts). It is fair to argue that Jordan and Copher did misunderstand the rabbinic texts. The notion that the rabbis were hostile and vituperative towards black Africans does not hold up to scholarly scrutiny; current research supports Copher’s contention that the ancient Jews knew, admired, and respected black Africans, Ethiopians, and Cushites. But the accusation that Afrocentric scholarship was hostile and vituperative towards rabbinic tradition also overstates the case. And rabbinic admiration for Africans does not exclude the possibility that the ancient texts also revealed rabbinic prejudices against dark skin and African features. Ephraim Isaac raised a concern about mistranslation, noting that the Graves and Patai translation is a combination of compiled rabbinic sources and modern interpretations and so not to be taken literally. Isaac uses this insight to compare the Graves and Patai translation of the Tanḥuma verse to Montefiore’s earlier translation. Here swollen lips are crooked lips, twisted hair is singed hair and an elongated penis is a stretched prepuce—not typical African features.10 Isaac also surmises there are no people with the above characteristics and therefore it is only an exegetical exercise about some mythological group. This argument was also made by David Aaron, but David Goldenberg concluded that even the less racialized and to his mind correct translations: singed hair, curved lips, red eyes, large phalluses (not stretched prepuces), and nakedness are indeed references to black Africans, based on parallel linguistic observations of other cultures.11 It is interesting that none of the scholars point out that the translations of Graves and Patai are crude references to signify Black bodies that were common in the time in which they wrote. As language became an important battlefield for African American empowerment, the stereotypical usages may have had more to do with Afrocentric anger at these passages than the ideas themselves. And it is important to remember that the passages, no matter what language they use, consider African features a punishment for a crime. 10 11

Isaac, 1980, 13; Montefiore, 1974, 56. Goldenberg, 2003, 187.

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A QUESTION OF AESTHETICS? Goldenberg and Aaron argue against the connection between rabbinic texts and racialization by contending that Blackness in these texts is only an aesthetic category. Isaac goes farther than this, arguing that in the phrase “black and ugly” only ugly has a pejorative connotation, since “the Rabbis described their own ancestors as black.”12 Isaac, a black Jew himself, also argues that the rabbis differentiated between Canaan who was punished with enslavement but was not black, and the other progeny of Ham (notably Cush) who was the progenitor of black people, who were not only not punished but exalted and admired in the rabbinic tradition. He argues that despite the negative treatment of Canaan in rabbinic texts, the rabbis never meant racial, only moral aspersions against this particular enemy of the Israelite people.13 On the other hand, Aaron admits that “Black” is used negatively but suggests: The language “ugly and black” is derogatory; it is not racial. It involves cultural aesthetic judgements, just as to this very day some cultures judge light skin or dark skin within the same race to be a characteristic of beauty; apparently, so it was in ancient times.14

Along with Isaac, Aaron does not see a political or moral dimension to aesthetics. Neither does Goldenberg. Goldenberg agrees with Aaron that the Tannaitic aesthetic reflects a “somatic norm” for the Jews of the rabbinic era, and asserts moral neutrality for their ethnocentric preference for lighter skin. He suggests that these texts appear in rabbinic literature to serve two etiological functions: both to explain this difficult passage in Genesis and the anomaly of physiological human differences that they witnessed. He concludes: What do the dark skin etiologies imply about the Jewish and in general the Near Eastern, view of darker-skinned peoples? Do Isaac, 1980, 12. Isaac, 1980, 6. 14 Aaron, 1995, 746. 12 13

TRANSLATING RABBINIC TEXTS ON THE CURSE OF HAM 37 such stories imply a deprecation of dark skin color? Undoubtedly. They obviously indicate that the authors of the stories considered their own lighter skin color to be the norm, and therefore, the preferred. Such human conceit is universal. 15

Like Aaron, Goldenberg distinguishes these aesthetic and ethnocentric norms from antipathy to black Africans or racial prejudice. He admits that “Black” was used as a negative designation throughout the history of Jewish literature, but discounts any connection between the color black and African people in rabbinic texts. Goldenberg does not accept that any of the texts examined by Copher are in any way problematic or racist. He limits his definition of racism to “domination and exploitation,” and argues that these factors were not part of ancient rabbinic culture in relation to black Africans.16 While it is surely the case that domination and exploitation are the hallmarks of institutional racism as we know it, (and Goldenberg acknowledges that white Jews are as implicated in these structures of racism as anyone else) it is also the case that racism comes in many forms. Aesthetic preferences and ethnic politics do have a moral dimension; that beauty is not a neutral category has been adequately demonstrated by feminist theory. Ethnocentrism is also the grounding place for racism. To assume that one’s own group is better is the root cause of much hatred and violence against other groups, and cannot simply be assumed to be neutral or beyond reproach.

THE ISSUE IS SEXUALITY The issues of mistranslations, ethnocentrism, and aesthetics all coalesce in the question of sexuality that is raised in these rabbinic texts. Although scholars like David Whitford argue that sexuality is not relevant to the rabbinic sources, Stephen Haynes believes that the rabbinic vilification of Ham was only sexual, not racial.17 Goldenberg, however, sees sex and race as connected. He assumes Goldenberg, 2003, 109. Goldenberg, 2003, 200. 17 Haynes, 2002, 70. 15 16

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that the Sanhedrin reference to “smitten in the skin” indicated that the ancient rabbis saw the punishment as a change in semen that produced dark children. Aaron however translates “smitten in the skin” as referring to a punishment to the genitals,18 unrelated in any way to skin color. It is clear that the rabbis’ main preoccupation was dealing with the nature of Ham’s sexual crime, and most commentary (and biblical criticism of this passage) has focused on whether Ham’s crime was to be taken literally (he “looked” and therefore shamed his father), or euphemistically (looking really meant uncovering and so Ham was guilty of paternal incest) or was elided from the text (Ham had forbidden intercourse with his wife on the Ark or Ham, or Canaan, castrated Noah). But even if the rabbis did not intend the connection between sex and race, the link is inescapable given the ways Africans have been stereotyped as hypersexual as far back as fifth century Greece. The Tanḥuma text that curses Ham’s descendants with nakedness and elongated penises raises the stereotype of African hypersexuality that lurks beneath the surface of this conversation. The connection between sex and race exists not only in this text, but in others. Goldenberg notes the similarities between Bereshit Rabbah Noaḥ 36 and b. Soṭah 26b another (among many) texts where darkened skin is a punishment visited on progeny. While the context for the Soṭah narrative is the purported punishments for an adulterous wife, in both cases the result for sexual transgression is a dark child. Goldenberg attributes this to somatic preference for lighter skinned children and women and insists it has “transcultural universality.” But the references in these two cases underscore a connection in the rabbinic mind between illicit sex and punishment through the darkening of progeny that can’t be ignored. The Soṭah text also declares ugly, short, and female children as well as difficulty in labor as potential consequences of adulterous unions, so the “black and ugly” association is not an isolated case.19 Read through contemporary eyes, even by the ultra-Orthodox, the punishment of dark children seems absurd; doesn’t God love 18 19

Aaron, 1995, 740, following Howard Eilberg-Schwartz. Goldenberg, 2003, 96.

TRANSLATING RABBINIC TEXTS ON THE CURSE OF HAM 39 all His creatures? (Hughes) But as this response suggests, reader reception both matters and changes over time. How we view (and how we translate) ancient texts has everything to do with our conscious and unconscious reception of the text and our historical and geographical location. It is not, therefore, unfair to conclude that the rabbinic texts are fertile locations for interpretations of all varieties and played a role in the transmission of negative stereotypes and associations. We are left with Michael Brown’s conclusion that no reading is innocent, and that language (not only domination and exploitation) is an important way that power manifests itself. All scholars can do is attempt to stay conscious of our own context and motivation for interpreting things the way we do.20

CONCLUSIONS Contemporary scholars have diffused part of the tension in Black Christian / Ashkenazi Jewish / Black Jewish conversations by correcting the idea that rabbinic texts were the source for the Curse of Ham. If Copher were writing today, I imagine he would acknowledge this, and also feel affirmed that in the process of discovery scholars acknowledged the Black presence in the bible. But in defending the rabbinic texts the scholars failed to take adequate account of the Black presence in Jewish texts that through sexual allusion, ethnocentrism and aesthetics, as well as etiological and linguistic play are in part responsible for how we understand and interpret Jewish views of race in ancient texts. While rabbinic texts were unfairly blamed by Copher and others, the discussion opened up awareness of what is in the rabbinic texts and their English translations, and even allowing for mistranslation and decontextualization, racialization is an important lens through which we must view these texts and their transmission.

20

Brown, 2004, 121.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY Aaron, David H. 1995. “Early Rabbinic Exegesis on Noah’s Son Ham and the so-Called ‘Hamitic Myth’.” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 63 (4): 721–59. Braude, Benjamin. 1997. “The Sons of Noah and the Construction of Ethnic and Geographical Identities in the Medieval and Early Modern Periods.” The William and Mary Quarterly 54 (1): 103–42. Brown, Michael Joseph. 2004. Blackening of the Bible: The Aims of African American Biblical Scholarship. African American Religious Thought and Life. Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International. Copher, Charles B. 1975. “Blacks and Jews in Historical Interaction: The Biblical/African Experience.” Journal of the Interdenominational Theological Center 3 (1): 9–16. ______. “The Black Presence in the Old Testament” in Felder, Cain Hope. 1991. Stony the Road We Trod: African American Biblical Interpretation. Minneapolis: Fortress Press. 146–64. Davis, Stacy. 2008. This Strange Story: Jewish and Christian Interpretation of the Curse of Canaan from Antiquity to 1865. Lanham, M.D.: University Press of America. Ginzberg, Louis. 1913–1946. The Legends of the Jews. Volume 1; Bible Names and Characters from the Creation to Jakob. Trans. Henrietta Szold (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society). Goldenberg, David M. 2003. The Curse of Ham: Race and Slavery in Early Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press. Graves, Robert, and Raphael Patai. 1964. Hebrew Myths: The Book of Genesis. 1st ed. Garden City, NY: Doubleday. Haynes, Stephen R. 2002. Noah’s Curse: The Biblical Justification of American Slavery. Religion in America Series. New York: Oxford University Press. Hughes, Yonoson “It Doesn’t Matter if You’re Black or White,” accessed at http://www.federationofsynagogues.com/pdf/ 26324_Naso_P2011.pdf Isaac, Ephraim. “Genesis, Judaism, and the sons of Ham?” in Slavery & Abolition 1 (1980), 3–17. Jordan, Winthrop D. 1968. White Over Black: American Attitudes Toward the Negro, 1550–1812. Chapel Hill: Published for the

TRANSLATING RABBINIC TEXTS ON THE CURSE OF HAM 41 Institute of Early American History and Culture at Williamsburg, VA, by the University of North Carolina Press. Montefiore, C. G., ed. and tr, H. M. J. Loewe, and Joint Ed. and Tr. 1974. A Rabbinic Anthology. New York: Schocken Books. Whitford, David M. 2009. The Curse of Ham in the Early Modern Era: The Bible and the Justifications for Slavery. St. Andrews Studies in Reformation History. Farnham, England; Burlington, VT: Ashgate Pub. Ltd.

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IT DOES MATTER IF YOU’RE BLACK OR WHITE, TOO-BLACK OR TOO-WHITE, BUT MESTIZO IS JUST RIGHT WIL GAFNEY THE LUTHERAN THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY AT PHILADELPHIA Charles Copher argued that the content and impact of rabbinic discourse complicated the task of identifying the “Black Presence in the Old Testament,” his beloved project, (published in Stony the Road We Trod: African American Biblical Interpretation. Cain Hope Felder, ed. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1991). He ably engaged some of the tradition’s xenophobic fixation with blackness in his work which we are commemorating here today. Copher’s bridge between the biblical and rabbinic traditions was the Curse of Canaan misconstrued as the Curse of Ham and its exegesis in the Babylonian Talmud and Midrash Rabbah. As sacred literature rooted in a particular context, rabbinic literature like the bible is xenophobic and sexist. And as sacred literature that transcends its context of origin, also like the bible, rabbinic literature offers a glimpse of a world beyond our world, which we may wish to explore. This exploration may profoundly impact the worlds in which we live, those under construction and perhaps ha-olam ha-ba, the world to come. 43

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I would like to explore a different construction of blackness in conjunction with a construction of whiteness in the rabbinic tradition, specifically, the mestizo space between excessive whiteness and excessive blackness. First, the excesses in the text (b. Bek. 45b):

‫ שחור לא ישא‬,‫לבן לא ישא לבנה—שמא יצא מהם בוהק‬ ‫שחורה—שמא יצא מהן טפוח‬ Rabbi Shimon ben Laqish (known as Resh Laqish) says in b. Bek. 45b, “Lavan (masculine-white), lo yisa’ (shall not take-in-marriage) lavanah, (feminine-white), shema’ yetze’ mehem (lest there go out from them), bohaq, (which Soncino translates “excessive whiteness”); shaḥor (masculine-black), lo yisa’ (shall not take-in-marriage) sheḥorah, (feminine-black), shema’ yetze’ mehen (lest there go out from them— this time nun sofit), tefuaḥ, (which Soncino translates “excessive blackness”). In other words: A white-man should not marry a whitewoman, lest they produce a bohaq, a too-white-child, and a black man should not marry a black woman, lest they produce a tefuaḥ, a too-black-child. As generations of black preachers have taught, a text without a context is a pretext. The context is that Resh Laqish and his conversation partners are crafting gemara, Talmudic commentary on a mishnah, that like the Torah, on which it comments, discusses the suitability of persons and their offerings in the presence of God of the Holy Name. Two torot (legal passages) are at stake, the prohibitions against blemished men serving as priests in Lev 21:16– 23 and the prohibition against blemished animals being offered as sacrifices in Lev 22:17–25. One place in which these torot are elaborated upon is m. Bek. 7:1: “These blemishes (mumin), whether enduring or passing disqualify a man…”

And there follows a fascinating discussion about knock-knees, bow-legs, webbed feet extra fingers with and without bones, twenty-four fingers and toes—six per appendage, evenly spread. Rabbi Yehudah Ha-Nasi compassionately accepts all of these differently configured specimens of male humanity as qualified for the priesthood as descendants of Aaron. The Sages do not. Near

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the end of m. Bek. 7:6, there is an unattributed judgment that is I wish to discuss: “The black (ha-kushi) or the red (ha-giḥor) or the albino (halavqan) or a giant or a dwarf or a deaf man or a fool or a drunkard or restored carriers of plague-spots (ba’aley nega’in) are disqualified among humankind but kosher among animalkind.”

I am examining the whiteness and blackness constructed by the exclusion of these colorful characters from the priesthood as one of many racialized tropes in rabbinic literature. Racialized is not exactly the same as racist. The rabbis are not characterizing an ethnic group, their relative worth or humanity based on physical characteristics that they essentialize as the essence of a particular people. The rabbis are sharing in a larger enterprise in which a normative subject is articulated and defined against an abnormal— or at least undesirable—other, and in these texts, many undesirable, abnormal others. Skin color is an important part of the calculus and in these passages is not reducible to a black/white good/bad dyadic binary. It is important to remember that the rabbis are discussing their own kinfolk, black, white, red, spotted and speckled, who are also their skin-folk. Now about those skins… Mishnah Bekhoroth describes a number of skin colors, conditions and appearances as mumin, blemishes, that disqualify an Israelite man from the priesthood, even with the right lineage. It does not matter whether the prohibited condition was temporary or permanent. First ha-kushi, or the Kushite. In the biblical lexicon, a Kushite is a Nubian person, formerly translated as an Ethiopian, a black African from what is now Ethiopia and Sudan—there are beige and even white Africans, but that’s another paper in another discipline—and according to Halot,1 ha-kushi is a “negro.” But this is rabbinic Hebrew. And kushi is used to mean “dark” as in m. Sukkah 3:6 where it is used for fruit, (an etrog) as Danby2 notes, as well as in the gemara, b. Sukkah 36a. The word kushi appears three Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament. Herbert Danby (trans.), The Mishnah (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1933). 1

2

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times in the Mishnah, once in our primary text, once in the etrog text and once in a text also addressing Israelite skin-color that I shall get to presently. The disqualification of an Israelite from the priesthood because he is a kushi, is not about his parentage, but about his appearance. As an Aaronide, he would be the son of a kohen. (According to American Reform Judaism a daughter of a kohen is deemed to be a bat kohen). This text disqualifies a genealogically suitable candidate for being dark-skinned, perhaps as black as a Nubian. The exclusion of the black man from the priesthood suggests that 1) the normative Israelite construct envisioned by the tradents was largely exclusive of the category Black and 2) the actual Israelite phenotypes encountered by the tradents were inclusive of the category Black. Physical, phenotypical blackness was grounds for exclusion from the priesthood, but not Israel, and was not a sufficient provocation to doubt paternity or lineage, even among the rather inbred kohanim. Blackness is not the only disqualifying characteristic. After hakushi, is ha-giḥor. This man is red or red-spotted. The term only occurs in Mishnah Bekhorot and Bavli Berakhot. In b. Ber. 31a, the child for which Hannah prays is, “Neither too tall nor too short, neither too thin nor too fat, neither too pale nor too red, neither over-clever nor stupid.” The next exclusionary category, ha-lavqan, is confusing even for the rabbis. In the gemara on this mishnah, the rabbis say first that giḥor is white and lavqan is red, and then the other way ‘round. There are also a number of different spellings; the vav in the mishnah is a vet in the gemara, Rashi and the Arukh3 have two more spellings. There is also a discussion of some flowers that give rise to the name. At the end of the day, I follow Jastrow4 in reading ha-lavqan as “albino.” The next two categories, the giant and the dwarf, are more straightforward. The fool is likely someone with a social or mental disability who was perceived as uncivilized. The drunkard requires no further elaboration. The “now-restored ones” who have perhaps “mastered” (ba’al) their “plague-marks,” ba’aley nega’in, Alexander Kohut (ed.), Arukh Completum (Vienna 1878–85). Marcus Jastrow, Dictionary of the Targumim, the Talmud Babli and Yerushalmi and the Midrashic Literature (New York: Judaica, 1996, repr.). 3 4

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require a brief explanation. Associated with metzora, misidentified as leprosy, are nega’im, disease spots and other marks on a person’s body; I am excluding from this paper afflicted houses, clothing and other non-human objects. The final category of an Aaronide man disqualified from the priesthood by his blemishes in Mishnah Bekhorot (m. Bek. 7:6) is the man who has been healed and restored to the community following an outbreak of skin-disease, including observing all rites associated with purification and restoration. The use of ba’al here reminds me of my favorite she’elah (question): The bible describes both Esav (Esau) and Eliyahu (Elijah) as hairy. Who was hairier? Eliyahu. Gen 27:11 states that Esav was ish se’ar. But of Eliyahu it says, in 2 Kgs 1:8, ish ba’al se’ar, “the lord of hair,” or “lord of all hairy men,” or as one of my students said, “the furmeister.” Likewise the man with the healed plague spots was at one time perhaps, lord of all plague-marked men. However one understands the use of ba’al there, it is possible that this text is intended to refer to the most severely affected man. In a postscript, all of the blemishes that disqualify people are ruled kosher for animals. These blemishes, whether enduring or passing disqualify a man (from the priesthood)… The black or the red or the albino or a giant or a dwarf or the deaf man or the fool or the drunkard or those restored of plague-spots are disqualified among humankind but kosher among animalkind. (m. Bek. 7:6)

Blackness and whiteness as phenotypes are more than a simple binary dyad in rabbinic literature; they are polar regions on a continuum. Each region overlaps the constructed normal phenotype in such a way that there can be an accepted level of blackness or whiteness in a person’s appearance, as well as unacceptable levels of blackness and whiteness. The space between unacceptable blackness and unacceptable whiteness, what Soncino translates as “excessive blackness” and “excessive whiteness” is to borrow a term from the Latina and Latino interpretive lexicon, a mestizo space. In his gemara commentary on the disqualifying blemishes in Mishnah Bekhorot, to paraphrase Rabbi Shimon ben Laqish’s teaching: “A white-man should not marry a white-woman lest they produce a too-whitechild, and a black-man should not marry a black-woman, lest they produce, a too-black-child.” Resh Laqish was, I argue, attempting

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to preserve (and construct) this mestizo space. While mestizo traditionally refers to a person of mixed native, Spanish and/or African heritage, I am using the term with reference to appearances resulting from the mixing of persons called black, or too-black and white or too-white in these texts. Resh Laqish states a prohibition on black and white people reproducing with their own kind. Implicit in his prohibition is his solution, that black and white people should marry each other and produce beautiful mestizo babies. The terms bohaq and tefuaḥ, “excessive whiteness” and “excessive blackness” are not always negative in the rabbinic lexicon. Apart from the text under consideration, bohaq means “bright,” “brilliant” and “beautiful” in reference to jewels, candlelight, Sarah’s beauty and the brilliance of scholars across the tradition. (Cf.: y. Pesaḥ. 27b, b. Qidd. 33a, Git. 11a and Sanh. 100a.) “Excessive blackness,” tefuaḥ, is related to a particular type of pitcher used for hand-washing, tefiyaḥ,—leading to Rashi’s “black as a pitcher;” no one seems to know what sort of black pitcher Rashi meant, but it was certainly not pejorative. There is a secondary lemma that refers to grass and grain leading Jastrow to stretch and say that tefuaḥ might refer to the skin discoloration of a person dying from starvation due to lack of grain. Returning to Rashi’s material culture reference, tefuaḥ was the same shade of black as a well-known household object, now obscure but with no negative associations. So then, according to Resh Laqish, the Aaronides (and likely the rest of the Israelites) range in skin-tone from blackerthan-black to whiter-than-white with only the extremes perceived as problematic. The tribe of Aaron and the ancient people of Israel suddenly sound much more varied in appearance than I had ever imagined. I do wonder what did the ancient Israelites looked like. I believe that question was also behind Charles Copher’s work. Rabbi Yishmael answers that question in a discussion on how to identify the plague mark in people of different constructions. (nota bene: one primary manifestation of the skin-disease is baheret, a bright spot.) Given the range of skin tones evoked by the range between excessive whiteness and excessive blackness, ebony, ivory, cocoa, mocha, caramel, sandalwood, perhaps even peaches and cream, along with black coffee—no sugar, no cream, how will the nega’, plague spot appear on all of these skin tones?

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According to m. Neg. 2:1: The bright spot in a German (germani) appears as dull white, and the dull white one in a Kushite appears as bright white. R. Ishmael stated: the children of Israel—may I be an atonement for them!—are like eshkero’a neither black nor white but of an intermediate shade.

I wish I knew what eshkero’a (a type of wood) is; according to Jastrow it is either box-wood—I have no idea—or ebony, which completely resets the continuum. In this text German and Nubian are the poles and an unidentifiable wood is the mestizo space. Germani is used in rabbinic literature to refer to the inhabitants of the Roman province of Germania, the ancient Cimmerians (related to the Thracians), the biblical Magog and stereotypical “white folk.” The Cimmerians have crossed over into popular culture as the people from whom Conan the Barbarian emerged, played by the Austrian (not-quite-Germani) actor Arnold Schwarzenegger and by the half-Hawaiian—mestizo?—actor Jason Momoa. Curiously, at least one text, Gen Rab. 86:3, identifies Joseph as germani: “Everywhere a germani sells a Nubian, while here a Nubian is selling a germani!” This refers to the sale of Joseph by an Ishmaelite, descended from Hagar the Egyptian. There are some two-dozen uses of the word kushi in the Bavli. Virtually all deal with literal, physiological blackness or figurative blackness, identifying a particular characteristic as being as recognizable as black skin, [i.e. the deeds of Saul, Zipporah, Zedekiah and Israel in b. Mo’ed Qat. 16b, all of whom they read as Cush.] Was Cush that Benjamite’s name? And was not his name Saul?—But, just as a Cushite is distinguishable by his skin, so was Saul distinguished by his deeds. In like manner you explain: ‘[And Miriam and Aaron spoke against Moses] because of the Cushite woman that he had taken to wife. Was she a Cushite [woman]? Was not her name Zipporah? But as a Cushite woman is distinguishable by her skin so was also Zipporah distinguished by her deeds. In like manner you explain: Now Ebed-Melek the Cushite… heard. Now was his name Cushite? Was not his name Zedekiah? But as the Cushite is distinguishable by his skin so was Zedekiah distinguished by

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WIL GAFNEY his deeds. In like manner you explain: Are ye not as the children of the Cushites unto me, O children of Israel, saith the Lord? Now is their name [children of] Cushites? Was not their name [children of] Israel? The truth is that as the Cushite is distinguishable by his skin, so are Israel distinguished by their ways from all other nations.5

Michael Jackson famously sang, “It doesn’t matter if you’re black or white.” A rhyme from my childhood derided black folk who were “light, bright and almost white,” while rendering a mixed verdict on others: “the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice, but if it gets too black, there ain’t no use.” The mishnayot and gemarot of Rabbi Shimon ben Laqish and Rabbi Yishmael reify a range of normative skin-tones for the ancient Israelites and their priestly kin, a broad mestizo space that welcomes everyone who is black, white, beige and brown as long as they’re not too black or too white. Charles Copher’s legendary work rightly illuminates some of the darkest corners of the rabbinic tradition, where it engages people of color. Those texts are canonized along with other texts; I like to think of rabbinic literature as “canonized dissent.” The rabbis perceived blackness and whiteness as constitutive elements of ancient Israel even as they demonized blackness among other peoples. Successive generations have labored to construct a white identity for the Israelites and their descendants, as others dismantle that construction, erecting their own constructs in black and brown. A few occupy the liminal, mestiza space between the poles. According to b.’Erub. 96a, “Michal bat Kushi, (Michal the daughter of a Nubian) wore tefillin and the Sages did not attempt to prevent her…” This woman bears her Nubian identity in her name; the rest of her identity is not delineated, but she is an Israelite. Her naming reminds me of one contemporary construction of blackness in which people with any amount of African ancestry are identified as black. Michal’s existence bears witness to a continuing mestiza space Soncino translation: The Babylonian Talmud. Translated into English with Notes, Glossary and Indices (ed. Isadore Epstein; London: Soncino Press, 1922–). 5

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in the tradition, a space that is hallowed by the practice of a black woman’s prayer while wearing tefillin.

5

RESPONSE TO W. DAVID NELSON, WIL GAFNEY, JAMAL-DOMINIQUE HOPKINS, AND REBECCA ALPERT STACY DAVIS SAINT MARY’S COLLEGE, NOTRE DAME, IN News of the joint session between the Midrash and AfricanAmerican Biblical Hermeneutics sections of the Society of Biblical Literature was both exciting and overdue. The session, entitled “Race in Rabbinic Literature: Reflections on Charles Copher’s ‘The Black Presence in the Old Testament’” was exciting because scholars in both Jewish studies and African American studies have been working in this area for decades. While insights are often exchanged and borrowed, such interaction is rarely direct and dialogical. Bringing scholars together to talk about their work is a great good, and both sections are to be commended for their efforts. The session was also in its own way overdue, as race in rabbinic literature has been a serious topic of discussion since the 1960s. Four scholars presented carefully researched and thoughtful works on the subject, and it was my privilege to be able to offer one of the responses. In the spirit of full disclosure, I must begin by saying that in graduate school, race and rabbinic literature were the subjects of 53

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my first Hebrew Bible seminar paper and a significant portion of my dissertation. When I learned about this panel, therefore, I threw academic modesty aside and shamelessly begged to be on it. I was willing to do anything—even distribute handouts—in order to be a part of the conversion. Therefore, while I hope that my comments on the presentations are accurate and do full justice to the scholars’ work, I make no claims for either objectivity or detachment. I care deeply about the subject and was delighted to be a part of the panel. W. David Nelson calls for collaboration between African American and Jewish scholars; the rationale for the collaboration makes the call distinctive. Specifically, “… Eurocentrism serves as a potential tie of mutual interest binding Black Christian and White Jewish biblical scholarship. Far from representing a normative scholarly agenda, Jewish biblical scholarship, likewise, has been relegated by the same Eurocentric forces to the margins of the normativity of the same white, male, Christian biblical Academy.”1 Two ideas came to mind. First, scholarly work about the Curse of Canaan may be indirectly contributing to the continuation of Eurocentrism in biblical scholarship. Second, any collaboration must include active resistance against not only the myth of historical-critical objectivity, but also the anti-Black and anti-Jewish history imbedded in the method’s origins. Most work on the curse of Canaan focuses upon race—why the text was used to justify African slavery and where the justification came from. Nelson asks scholars not to gloss over race in rabbinic literature, since “the earliest generations of rabbis either inherited and/ or created derogatory racial and social sentiments about (presumably) Black Africans.”2 In turn, scholars should not gloss over the anti-Judaism that is often a part of Christian biblical interpretation. For example, modern Western Christian interpretation of the Curse of Canaan makes the cursed Ham or Canaan black. In patristic and medieval Christian readings, however, Ham and/or Canaan are the Jews, who are cursed for failing to believe in Jesus. Jerome, Augustine, Bede, Rabanus Maurus, Bruno of Segni, Peter Comestor, and the 1 2

Nelson, 2011. Ibid.

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Glossa Ordinaria all equate Ham with the Jews. While the work of Jewish scholars of Christianity like Jeremy Cohen points out the anti-Judaism in early Christianity, these biases in Christian exegesis are sometimes not stated as loudly as they could be. Modern scholars may dismiss pre-modern biblical scholarship and its anti-Judaism as eisegesis, but the modern myth of historicalcritical objectivity has often masked the anti-Judaism upon which the method was based. In the fall of 2010, I taught Julius Wellhausen’s Prologomena for the first time, in a seminar on Leviticus and Numbers. Students quickly mastered J, E, P, and D, but they were annoyed and upset to learn that much of Wellhausen’s arguments about P are based on a description of Judaism that can only be described as offensive. Prophetic literature is glorified at the expense of the priestly canon, precisely because the former is “closer” to the Christian ideal and not the “dead” Judaism of the priests. Even as the scientific study of Judaism flourished in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries in Germany, anti-Judaism remained alive and well. As Susannah Heschel demonstrates in her essay “Jesus as Theological Transvestite,”3 Jewish scholars who brought out Jesus’ similarities with the rabbinic thought of his day were often opposed by German Christian scholars who wanted Jesus to be as non-Jewish as possible. Charles Copher successfully argues against historicalcritical scholars like William Albright and Martin Noth, who attempt to write blacks out of the Hebrew Bible in the name of scholarly objectivity.4 Similarly, Jewish scholars of the New Testament have resisted attempts to make Jesus the first Christian while erasing his Jewish identity. Nelson’s call for collaboration reminds me of one of my mentors, the late Rabbi Michael Signer. Years ago, when I was struggling with the final chapter of my dissertation and the antiblack rhetoric of the pro-slavery South, Rabbi Signer introduced me to John Efron’s work on nineteenth-century German rhetoric about Jews; the German language of Jewish inferiority sounded

3 4

Heschel, 1997. Copher, 1991, 150–51.

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almost identical to the American slave masters whose work I was trying to understand. And as Professor Signer’s teaching assistant, my own challenge of his interpretation of Cant 1:5 (I am black and/but beautiful) and his response to it showed both of us that two minorities could work across barriers of religion and power for the sake of learning more about the texts we love enough to spend our careers studying. Wil Gafney’s discussion of rabbinic views of color is fascinating. Her thesis is as follows: “the space between unacceptable blackness and unacceptable whiteness… is to borrow a term from the Latina and Latino interpretive lexicon, a mestizo space.”5 Gafney expands Copher’s thesis that Africans are present in the Hebrew Bible by describing their presence in rabbinic literature. Her work also demonstrates the diversity of skin colors within Jewish communities, and this diversity is not always described negatively. Instead, blackness is simply a fact of life. The reader is left with an intense desire to know more, even when the answers just do not want to reveal themselves. What is eshkero’a wood and what color is it? The question, however, that nagged me after I read the paper (and even woke me up the following morning, which is completely out of character for me) is this—what does it mean to be “too black?” While ha-kushi is often translated as “black” or “dark,” this is not the same as “too black.” Jastrow suggests that kushi can be translated as “abnormally dark-complexioned,” but this is not the standard definition.6 In m. Bek. 7:6, ha-kushi is excluded from the priesthood, along with ha-giḥor and ha-lavqan. The words red and albino, however, have a different connotation than black. Red may refer perhaps to someone who has red blemishes or spots, and Leviticus 13 suggests that whiteness mixed with redness on the skin is a sign of uncleanness. Excessive whiteness, or albinism, describes a lack of melanin; this may be defined as abnormal whiteness as opposed to being a bit on the pale side. But what would it mean to be abnormally black according to the rabbis? Can a person have 5 6

Gafney, 2011. Jastrow, 1996, 626.

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too much melanin? The answer is yes—hyper-pigmentation. The condition does not make a person extremely black, however; instead, a person has patches or blotches that are darker than the rest of their skin. So, the question remains. Excessive blackness, or t’fuaḥ, simply means really, really black, but how black is really, really black? The word may be translated as “muddy soil,” but what color that is remains debatable.7 The temptation to buy a box of Crayolas (the 64 crayon box) and go from there is a strong one. The rabbinic texts make a qualitative distinction among different types of blackness; what kind of distinction is unknown. By encouraging a search for answers that the rabbis simply do not give, Gafney’s paper is a reminder of how midrash at its best works. In this case, the rabbis give their interpretations of color and its significance, but they are not bothered by precise definitions of those colors. Reading the rabbinic texts and their descriptions of colors parallels Justice Potter Stewart’s comment about obscenity in Jacobellis v. Ohio: I don’t know what it is, but I know it when I see it. Apparently, the rabbis knew what they meant. The fact that I do not is my problem, and it is not the worst problem to have. My own impossible questions aside, Gafney’s argument about the creation of an ideal mestizo identity and color for Jews is stimulating. As she concludes, “The mishnayot and gemarot of Rabbis Shimon ben Lakish and Yishmael reify a range of normative skintones for the ancient Israelites and their priestly kin, a broad mestizo space that welcomes everyone who is black, white, beige and brown as long as they’re not too black or too white.”8 Copher protests against the New Hamite myth, which attempts to make the Israelites as white as possible and exclude anyone who is not white from the Hebrew Bible.9 Gafney’s work confirms that the rabbis had a much broader view of color than certain modern scholars. My paper will mention Pirqe de Rabbi Eliezer again shortly. For now, however, it is noteworthy that the story of Noah and his sons in Pirqe R. El. supports the development of the rabbinic mestizo view. Jastrow, 1996, 547. Gafney, 2011. 9 Copher, 1991, 150–51. 7 8

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According to the text, Noah blesses all three of his sons. Shem, the ancestor of the Israelites, is made “dark but comely.”10 And even a descendant of Cush, Michal, claims both her darkness and her Jewish identity: the former is no impediment to the latter. In the post-presentation discussion, Gafney also pointed out that the word kushi, often translated as black or African, is rare in midrash; that rarity, combined with the debatable translations of color terms in the texts, makes any attempt to state what the rabbis thought about color a significant challenge. Like Gafney, Jamal-Dominique Hopkins examines alternate views of texts and interpretations in order to counter “traditional” anti-black readings of rabbinic literature. He focuses not only on texts but also on hermeneutics, particularly the nature of authority and the development of oral Torah. In Jewish tradition, God gives people the freedom to determine how to interpret a text, and they are free to err, as b. B. Meṣi’a 59b famously and humorously states. Even the heavenly voice’s support of Rabbi Eliezer does not help him win a very human argument. Additionally, in respect to legal issues, midrash aggadah, or interpretation of non-legal texts, traditionally has far less influence or significance than the interpretation of legal texts (halakhah). By intentionally “privileging biblical text over midrash,” Hopkins compares the stories of Cain and Ham/Canaan (aggadic texts) to their histories of interpretation and finds the latter wanting.11 One narrative claims that the smoke from Cain’s unacceptable sacrifice in Genesis 4 turns him black; Copher also refers to this story in Gen Rab. 22:6 as an example of the “Old Hamite view”; this view finds Africans in the Bible, but concludes that their presence is a negative one.12 Of course, if the Cain midrash is placed in conversation with the flood story in Genesis, then there are no blacks in the post-diluvian world. To explain that phenomenon, one needs the Curse of Canaan, which historically has been conflated with the Curse of Ham; their punishment for 10

Pirqe R. El., Friedlander ed., 1965, 172–73; quoted in Davis 2008,

11

Hopkins, 2011. Copher, 1991, 147–49.

36. 12

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Ham’s sight of Noah’s nakedness is that they both become black. Hopkins acknowledges the Talmudic texts that offer these explanations and then link blackness to sin, sensuality, shame; later, these arguments are used to justify African slavery and accepted by both northern and southern antebellum Christians. In these arguments, cultural and political contexts overwhelm the plain sense of the biblical text, a classic example of the influence of socialization. Some “religious” Americans needed and wanted a biblical justification for slavery, so they found one. But Hopkins also notes that rabbinic literature does not speak about Ham and Canaan in a monolithic voice. Jubilees 7 and 4Q 252 (4QCommGenA), for example, directly argue that Noah could only curse Canaan and not Ham, because God had already blessed Ham. Also, 4Q394 (4QMMT), or the Halakhic Letter, emphasizes maintaining the purity of the chosen community. An examination of the letter shows that a number of social and ethnic groups are declared unclean, but blacks are not named. The only broad prohibition is that food from Gentiles should not be offered as temple sacrifices. The diversity within the Jewish tradition challenges any simplistic anti-Black reading of Genesis 9. Rebecca T. Alpert’s argument against apologetics regarding the rabbinic texts functions as a healthy corrective to all scholars, myself included, who study race, slavery, and Judaism. Alpert suggests that “the scholars whose goal is to free rabbinic texts from culpability [for U.S. enslavement of Africans] are themselves responsible for overstating the innocence of rabbinic texts and over-reacting to Afrocentric scholarship that they perceive as vilifying the rabbinic traditions.”13 In the process of freeing these texts, the negative connections between midrash and blackness have been overlooked. Alpert brings this connection back to light through her study of Genesis Rabbah and Tanḥuma Noaḥ and notes that Afrocentric scholars like Charles Copher rightly see that the rabbis were critical of blackness and by extension black sexuality. Reading Alpert’s thoughtful critique caused me to take a look at my own use of midrash and scholars like Copher and Winthrop B. Jordan to see if I have been part of the problem and not the 13

Alpert, 2011.

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solution. Unfortunately for me, I have been a bit of both. I state that my conclusions—that midrash is not the source for U.S. justifications of African slavery—do not “serve as an active defense of rabbinic literature against its critics.”14 I also conclude that certain rabbinic texts connect blackness with “punishment for sexual misconduct.”15 But I am guilty of a passive defense; in my discussions both of Genesis Rabbah and Tanḥuma Noaḥ, I mention the connection between black skin color and Noah’s Curse of Canaan, but without any substantive comment. This is a sin of omission; as Alpert notes, “Aesthetic preferences and ethnic politics do have a moral dimension; that beauty is not a neutral category has been adequately demonstrated by feminist theory. Ethnocentrism is also the grounding place for racism.”16 I am both an African American and a feminist, so I should have known better. Furthermore, Alpert makes a point about Copher’s scholarship that is too often minimized—he understands midrash and its compilers better than folks often assume. While a number of rabbinic scholars criticize Copher for his use of the problematic translation of Graves and Patai, the translation itself escapes critique.17 But Copher recognizes that Graves and Patai take already troublesome texts and make them worse. Before quoting their translation, Copher says as follows: “This passage in the Babylonian Talmud [BT Sanh. 108b], related to other sources such as Tanhuma Noah 13, 15, is used by Graves and Patai to produce the following narrative.”18 So, Copher sees not only the anti-Blackness within the texts themselves, but also the anti-Blackness that the texts bring out in their compilers. I move forward with a small critique and hopefully a small contribution to the discussion. First, I have no doubt that Alpert already knows this, but it is worth repeating—not all critics of the Afrocentric use of certain rabbinic texts are trying to defend their Davis, 2008, 10. Davis, 2008, 40. 16 Alpert, 2011. 17 Ibid. 18 Copher, 1991, 147; emphasis mine. 14 15

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“ancestors” from the charge of “anti-Black racism.”19 I am certainly proof of that. Second, and more importantly, an exception to the rabbinic description of blackness as a curse may prove Alpert’s point that the rabbis themselves regularly made negative connections between blackness and sexuality. Written either in the eighth or ninth century, Pirqe de Rabbi Eliezer states that all of Noah’s children are blessed with land and a particular skin color. In Ham’s case, he and his children are made “dark like the raven” and receive “as an inheritance the coast of the sea.”20 In light of Genesis Rabbah and Tanḥuma Noaḥ, Pirqe de Rabbi Eliezer’s author may have been arguing against a rabbinic commonplace—blackness is not beautiful; it is bad. So, what should we think about the rabbis and race? Are they comfortable with blackness in moderation or are they guilty of bias against dark skin? The fine papers from this joint session suggest that the answers to the latter question may be yes and yes. One of the many wonderful things about midrash is that it offers multiple answers to the same sets of questions. Precisely because an aggadic interpretation is not authoritative, in many ways how one reads the rabbis and race depends upon which rabbis one reads. Gafney’s work on Resh Lakish may be another exception that corroborates Alpert’s and Nelson’s thesis and Hopkins’ emphasis on the distinction between halakhah and aggadah. Gafney brings the reader’s attention to Mishnah Bekhoroth. This text, a halakhic passage, which makes blackness a disqualification for the priesthood, expands Lev 21:16–23. So, it may have more weight and significance than interpretations about Ham and Canaan, for example, which are not based upon legal texts. Additionally, the us vs. them concerns in 4QMMT suggest that purity issues outweighed concerns about color in certain circles, or at least may have been the impetus behind discussions about color. But it is precisely the diversity in the rabbinic corpus that lends itself to more study by African-Americans, Jews, African-American Jews, and all those interested in the intersections of race and religion.

19 20

Alpert, 2011. Friedlander, 1965, 172–73; quoted in Davis 2008, 36.

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May this panel and the papers it produced be the first of many more.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Alpert, Rebecca T. 2011. “Translating Rabbinic Texts on the Curse of Ham: What We Learn from Charles Copher and His Critics.” Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature. San Francisco, CA. 21 November. b. B. Meṣi’a 59b. http://www.come-and-hear.com/babamezia/ babamezia_59.html#PARTb). Copher, Charles B. 1991. “The Black Presence in the Old Testament.” Pages 146–64 in Stony the Road We Trod: African American Biblical Interpretation. Edited by Cain Hope Felder. Minneapolis: Fortress. Davis, Stacy. 2008. This Strange Story: Jewish and Christian Interpretation of the Curse of Canaan from Antiquity to 1865. Lanham, MD: University Press of America. Friedlander, Gerald. 1965. Pirke de Rabbi Eliezer, 2nd ed. New York: Sepher-Hermon Press. Gafney, Wil. 2011. “It Does Matter If You’re Black or White, TooBlack or Too-White, But Mestizo is Just Right.” Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature. San Francisco, CA. 21 November. Hopkins, Jamal-Dominique. 2011. “The Noahic Curse in Rabbinic Literature: Radcialized Hermeneutics or Ethnocentric Exegesis.” Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature. San Francisco, CA. 21 November. Heschel, Susannah. 1997. “Jesus as Theological Transvestite.” Pages 188–99 in Judaism Since Gender. Edited by Miriam Peskowitz and Laura Levitt. New York: Routledge. Jacobellis v. Ohio, 378 U.S. 184, 197 (1964). http://library. findlaw.com/2003/May/15/132747.html. Jastrow, Marcus. 1996. A Dictionary of the Targumim, the Talmud Babli and Yerushalmi, and the Midrashic Literature. New York: Judaica. Martinez, Florentino García, and Eibert J.C. Tigchelaar. 2000a. The Dead Sea Scrolls Study Edition, Volume 1: 1Q1–4Q273. Leiden: Brill. ______. 2000b. The Dead Sea Scrolls Study Edition, Volume 2: 4Q274–11Q31. Leiden: Brill.

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Nelson, W. David. 2011. “Race and Rabbinic Literature: Charles Copher’s ‘The Black Presence in the Old Testament.’” Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature. San Francisco, CA. 21 November.

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REJOINDER: BLACK AND JEWISH HERMENEUTICS RIVKA ULMER BUCKNELL UNIVERSITY, LEWISBURG, PA The purpose of the joint session between the Midrash and AfricanAmerican Biblical Hermeneutics Sections was to present papers and discussions concerning the theme “Race in Rabbinic Literature: Reflections on Charles Copher’s ‘The Black Presence in the Old Testament’.” This session explored the impact of rabbinic literature on the development of concepts of “race” and “racialization” with a particular emphasis on commenting upon issues raised by Charles Copher. The African-American Biblical Hermeneutics Program Unit is dedicated to interpreting biblical texts in light of various Africana reading strategies that explore biblical texts through lenses of Africana art, music, poetry, literature, etc. The articles1 by W. David Nelson, “Eurocentrism: The Tie That Binds Black Christian and White Jewish Biblical Scholarship;” Jamal-Dominique Hopkins, “The Noahic Curse in Rabbinic Literature: Racialized Hermeneutics or Ethnocentric Exegesis;” Rebecca Alpert, “Translating Rabbinic Texts on the Curse of Ham: What We Learn from Charles Copher and His Critics;” Wil Gafney, “It Does Matter If You’re Black or 1

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W. David Nelson, Jamal-Dominique Hopkins, Rebecca Alpert, Wil Gafney and the response by Stacy Davis explore and utilize Black hermeneutic practices as particular ways of interpreting rabbinic texts and they are informed by historically and culturally-specific Black American experiences. In addition to examining what these papers reveal about Black perspectives on interpreting rabbinic literature, they attempt to understand how language creates, reveals, and conceals perceptions and identities. As a rejoinder, I offer a broader view, while also pointing out some specifics. I think it is essential to present the positive attitudes towards Blacks that are found in the Jewish tradition.2 The prophet Amos states: Are you not like the people of Ethiopia to Me, O children of Israel? says the Lord. Did I not bring up Israel from the land of Egypt, the Philistines from Caphtor, And the Syrians from Kir? (Amos 9:7). This biblical verse indicates that God’s concern for the Ethiopians is the same as for the “children of Israel.” Furthermore, Goldenberg writes: “… the purpose of the verse is to reject the belief that Israel has a special status before God; the Israelites are just like any other people.”3 Jewish tradition has deemed Amos 9:7 to be so critical to be heard in most Ashkenazi synagogues that the Haftarah for Shabbat Kedoshim (Lev 19:1–20:27) is Amos 9:7–15. Goldenberg concludes that the term Kushi “in classical rabbinic literature—in all periods and genres—and continuing into the Middle Ages, show that the term may designate any darkskinned person and not necessarily a black African…”4 Examples of positive references to Blacks (Kushites) in rabbinic literature include the following: Sifre Numeri 99 which views the biblical Kushite as an indication for something good and beautiful; the White, Too-Black or Too-White, But Mestizo is Just Right;” and Stacy Davis, “Response,” all in this book. 2 David M. Goldenberg, The Curse of Ham: Race and Slavery in Early Judaism, Christianity, and Islam (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2003), has detailed analyses of rabbinic texts of both positive and negative passages based upon corrected readings found in critical editions and manuscripts. 3 Goldenberg, The Curse, 23. 4 Goldenberg, The Curse, 125.

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minor Talmudic tractate Kallah Rabbati 3:23 has the comment that the Kushite Ebed Melekh (Jer 38:7–13) entered paradise as a living being. A theory implicit in some of the papers under discussion is that anti-Black racism was promulgated by the rabbis of late antiquity, who were the major creators of the classical rabbinic texts in Mishnah, Talmud, and Midrash. Furthermore, at times, explicit connections to history and recent sociological phenomena were drawn by individuals, among them Charles Copher.5 Such theories, which are exaggerated and non-contextual, contend that rabbinic Judaism created in its exegetical endeavor an image of the Black as a slave, as ugly, promiscuous, and as representing an unwanted, inferior group. While engaging with Copher, one should ask, whether his readings of rabbinic texts are in fact correct, including the historical background and the formation of these texts. All human beings are valued in rabbinic texts. A Talmudic passage requires saying a specific blessing praising God for creating any beautiful person, regardless of gender, ethnicity, race or belief (t. Ber. 6/7:3). All humankind was equally beloved by God; this is demonstrated by the following text: Furthermore, only one man, Adam, was created for the sake of peace among men, so that no one should say to his fellow, My father was greater than yours… Also, man [was created singly] to show the greatness of the Holy One, Blessed be He, for if a man strikes many coins from one mold, they all resemble one another, but the King of Kings, the Holy One, Blessed be He, made each man in the image of Adam, and yet not one of them resembles his fellow. Therefore every single person is obligated to say, The world was created for my sake. (m. Sanh. 4:5)

Adin Steinsaltz, a contemporary Rabbi, reemphasized the essential lesson of this passage: to teach us that no one should say to his See David M. Goldenberg, Review of The Image of the Black in Jewish Culture, in: Jewish Quarterly Review, 93 (2003), 557–79, at 558, who refers to Charles Copher, “Racial Myths and Biblical Scholarship: Some Random Notes and Observations,” in: idem, Black Biblical Studies (Chicago, 1993). 5

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fellow, My father was greater than yours.6 In its long history, Judaism has had its share of bigots, racists and xenophobes, some of whom expressed their prejudices in religious texts. But rabbinic Judaism has rarely diminished the essential humanity—and the concomitant holiness, derived from the doctrine of creation in imago Dei—shared by Jews and non-Jews alike. Based on Gen 1:26–27 and 9:6, the principle that all men and women are created in the image of God is codified in the Mishnah (m. Avot 3:14): [Rabbi Akiva] said, Beloved is man, for he was created in God’s image; [it is a sign of] abundant love [that] it was made known to him that he had been created in the image [of God], as it is said, In the image of God, man was created. (Gen 9:6)

This doctrine was echoed by one of the preeminent rabbis of the twentieth century, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, who stated: Even as the Jew is moved by his private Sinaitic Covenant with God to embody and preserve the teachings of the Torah, he is committed to the belief that all mankind, of whatever color or creed, is “in His image” and is possessed of an inherent human dignity and worthiness. Man’s singularity is derived from the breath “He [God] breathed into his nostrils at the moment of creation” (Genesis 2:7). Thus, we do share in the universal historical experience, and God’s providential concern does embrace all of humanity.7

In the face of these Jewish teachings expressing concern for men and women of all races, the attempts to portray normative Judaism as bigoted, racist and hateful are revealed as thorough distortions of Jewish ethics. The primary goal of this rejoinder is to highlight how Black hermeneutics interpret rabbinic texts as one cultural phenomenon engaging with another one in the distant, but relevant, past (c. 2nd–6th centuries CE) and address race questions, namely, the Adin Steinsaltz, “Man was created One,” Koroth 9 (1988), 9–18 (Hebrew). 7 Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Man of Faith in the Modern World: Reflections of the Rav (ed. Abraham R. Besdin, Hoboken, NJ: Ktav, 1989), 74. 6

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culturally constructed shades of Blackness and Whiteness. The layers of (white) Eurocentric imagining of Near Eastern and African culture need to be peeled away. The Islamic era and the European Middle Ages and their influence upon the hermeneutics of midrashic texts and their editing strategies left their respective traces of racism. Do rabbinic texts contain some passages that from our contemporary viewpoint may be interpreted as “racist”? The answer is affirmative; rabbinic texts in a few selected passages are “racist” from our perspective. One should not abstain from raising the difficult question of how one relates to Jewish texts that one finds objectionable. Sometimes, difficult texts, like b. Bek. 45b (cited by Gafney), were included in discourses on matters other than racist topics. According to Goldenberg, b. Bek. 45b “concerns dark-skinned Jewish priests, not black Africans.”8 Contemporary scholars may contextualize difficulties in these texts by pointing to the historical (Roman, Hellenistic, Babylonian, etc.) environment in which the texts in question were produced. For example, women under Roman law were treated like “chattle,” whereas in Talmudic Judaism they had marriage contracts and divorce bills. Furthermore, it should be emphasized that “classical” rabbinic literature does not state that a person with a certain skin color is a member of a preferred race.9 Rather, ethical norms in rabbinic Judaism—patience, learning, listening, honesty, regard for others, almsgiving, etc.—are the preferred norms of human behavior. As a general response to some of the papers, I would like to comment that there was no convincing evidence presented that these isolated “racist” passages in rabbinic literature were well known to the general Christian community until very recently. Nevertheless, these “objectionable” texts need to be studied, commented upon, and interpreted. A few philological remarks are in order. Gafney writes: “There are also a number of different spellings; the vav in the mishnah is a vet in the gemara…” The term lavqan (‫ )לוקן‬is based upon the Greek leuke (λεύκη), found in such English terms as leukemia. Any Greek 8 9

Goldenberg, Review, 567. Goldenberg, The Curse, 195–200.

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word may be transcribed in several ways in rabbinic Hebrew, thus we find ‫ לוקן‬and ‫—לבקן‬this is nothing unusual, since both transcriptions approximate the Greek word for “white.” Furthermore, the term “too-black” (Gafney), from the perspective of black hermeneutics, is a charged rendering of “pitch-black” in b. Bek. 45b. Let me also mention that the Hebrew Bible presents excessive whiteness as a punishment—Moshe’s sister, Miriam, is punished by extreme whiteness, i.e., a form of leprosy. Num 12:1 And Miriam and Aaron spoke against Moses because of the Ethiopian woman whom he had married, for he had married an Ethiopian woman. Num 12:9: … And behold, Miriam became leprous, white as snow; and Aaron looked upon Miriam, and behold, she was leprous. One can speculate that perhaps Miriam was punished for her “racist” comments about the Black woman that Moses had married. Within the positive or neutral references to Ethiopians (Kushim) in the Hebrew bible,10 we may note that Moses, the leader of the Hebrews, had a Black wife, either Ethiopian,11 Egyptian or Sudanese. The Hebrew term Kushi is a loanword from Egypt. It should be noted that close to the assumed time of Moses, there was the black Queen Teje of Egypt,12 whose religious practices may have had lasting influences.

“Kushi” mainly refers to the name of a person or the Ethiopian people: 2 Sam 18:21, 22, 23, 31,32; Jer 36:14; Jer 38:7; Zeph 1:1; Hab 3:7; 2 Chr 12:3; 2 Chr 14:12,13; 2 Chr 21:16, and to Ethiopia/Sudan/Nubia: Isa 20:3,4; Isa 43:3; Isa 45:14; Ezek 29:10 and often (cf. concerning Kush, Goldenberg, The Curse, 18). A rhetorical question, that implies a negative response concerning sinning is found in Jer 13:23 Can the Ethiopian change his skin or the leopard its spots? Then may you also do good who are accustomed to do evil. The imagery utilized by Jeremiah has a strong Ancient Egyptian coloring. 11 Incidentally, much later—if we can argue historically—there was an Ethiopian dynasty in Egypt (25th dynasty), including Pharaoh Tarharqa. This ruler is mentioned as “Tirharqa” in midrashic texts (Song Rab. 4:20). Taharqa was a pharaoh of the so-called Ethiopian dynasty in Ancient Egypt; he ruled from c. 690–664 BCE. 12 Queen Teje (or: Tiye), c. 1398–1338 BCE, Queen of Amenhotep III. 10

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Frequently, in midrashic literature the term “black” indicated sinful behavior in contrast to “white” which indicated moral behavior; however, this was not a racial category but a religious one. The origin of this contrast may lie somewhere in ancient Near Eastern mythology, referring to someone coming from “hell.” Several biblical (Lev 4:7–9) and rabbinic statements describe dark skin in humans as the result of physiological stress markers, such as severe illness and famine, as well as cases of depression. For example, Song Rab. 1:5 comments on “I am black”—that is “soiled” “through my own deed.” A whole list of blackness follows, for example: I was black and despised in Egypt; I am black with sins all the days of the year, but without sin on Yom Kippur. In these instances there is no connection between the color black and people of African descent in midrashic texts. The biblical verse Song of Songs 1:5 should be translated I am black [tanned] and beautiful; this English translation would express the pattern of Hebrew poetry much better than “black but beautiful.” Furthermore, the beautiful black (tanned) woman in the Song of Songs was a shepherdess tending the flocks who may have been portrayed in opposition to the lighter complected upper-class women in Jerusalem. Considering the idea that women may have lighter skin color than males evokes the Egyptian origin of the Song of Songs,13 since in Egyptian tomb paintings the color canon requires that women have lighter skin tones than males. The names of Noah’s sons refer to a geographical/linguistic map similar to other tables of nations in the Hebrew bible: 1. Ham (the speakers of Hamitic—Egyptians, Kushites and Somalians/Puntians). Ham is the name given to Egypt in Psalms 105:17, 23; 106:22 (compare 78:51). 2. Shem may refer to the Semites and their languages. 3. Japhet may refer to Mediterranean and northern peoples. 4. Canaan may refer to the Canaanites. The borders between these groups were permeable and shifted. Similarly, the twelve sons of Jacob refer to peoples and their See Michael V. Fox, The Song of Songs and the Ancient Egyptian Love Songs (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press 1985) and Othmar Keel, The Song of Songs [Song of Solomon] (trans. Frederick J. Gaiser; Continental Commentary Series; Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress Publishers, 1994). 13

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geographic-linguistic backgrounds that made up the new confederation of the Israelites “under one God.” (Interestingly, these groups may have also included Canaanites, as evident in the names “Asher” and “Gad”). My only intention here is to break through encrusted views and interpretations. Goldenberg mentions that the idea that Blacks were the descendants of Canaan is found in the 3rd or 4th century CE in a Syriac Christian work, the early church fathers, and after the 9th century in Arabic literature.14 Furthermore, midrashic literature offers the notion that Ham turned black, based upon an etiology, which “has nothing to do with slavery.”15 In his SBL paper W. David Nelson states: In conjunction with similar Greco-Roman and early Christian traditions of interpretation from antiquity that associate the Curse of Ham with the divinely doomed denigration of Black physicality, these midrashic traditions proceeded to serve as the basis for a long, unfolding history of physical and spiritual dehumanization of black peoples throughout the subsequent passage of history.

According to Goldenberg, one first sees the “explicit link between skin color and slavery in Near Eastern sources beginning in the seventh century” and the idea that Ham was cursed with blackness and with slavery “is very widespread in Islamic sources.”16 Historically, that occurred centuries after the midrashic passages under consideration were created; additionally, the arcane exegesis of midrash was not that widespread, with the exception of Christians who polemically engaged with Judaism in patristic literature and the anti-Semitic tractates produced in the Middle Ages. I agree with Rebecca Alpert, who states in her SBL paper: How we view (and how we translate) ancient texts has everything to do with our conscious and unconscious Goldenberg, Review, 565; idem., The Curse, 48, 197. Goldenberg, Review, 565. 16 Goldenberg, The Curse, 170. 14 15

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reception of the text and our historical and geographical location.

We are all in a particular hermeneutical circle; texts cannot be studied as we would study a chemical substance, since it is well known that our preconceived notions, training and gender-based, disability-based, as well as ethnically based, reading strategies are part of our essence. There is no way we can read these texts the way the ancient rabbis read and intended them within their worlds of discourse and cultures. Nevertheless, we have to communicate with those who are offended by some texts and those that bring other perspectives to these texts. We obviously have to avoid the traps and misreadings caused by translations and incomplete versions of midrashic texts. For example, Pirqe R. El. 23 states in part: He especially blessed Shem and his sons, (making them) dark but comely, and he gave them the habitable earth. He blessed Ham and his sons, (making them) dark like the raven, and he gave them as an inheritance the coast of the sea…17

I read this text as a positive view of Ham, because he is blessed, rather than cursed, whereas Stacy Davis in her SBL paper states: In light of Genesis Rabbah and Tanḥuma Noaḥ, Pirqe de Rabbi Eliezer’s author may have been arguing against a rabbinic commonplace—blackness is not beautiful; it is bad.

These contradictory views may be based upon several factors: Gerald Friedlander, the English translator of Pirqe R. El. created the text of the work by utilizing different manuscripts and adding his own explanations, i.e. “(making them).” There is no critical edition of the work, which is partially due to the varied contents of texts pertaining to Pirqe R. El; it is tedious (or at the worst Pirke De Rabbi Eliezer (trans. and ed. Gerald Friedlander [New York: Sepher Hermon Press, 1981]), 172–73. Pirke de-Rabbi Elieser. Nach der Edition Venedig 1544 unter Berücksichtigung der Edition Warschau 1852. (ed. and trans. Dagmar Börner-Klein; Studia Judaica, vol. 26; Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2004), 256–57. 17

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impossible) and expensive to collate different manuscripts to find out what the best or “most original” reading may have been. The title of the chapter by Jamal-Dominique Hopkins is “The Noahic Curse in Rabbinic Literature: Racialized Hermeneutics or Ethnocentric Exegesis.” This title goes to the very heart of the joint session: Are the rabbinic passages in question the product of a racialized or racist attitude by the authors of these texts or alternatively are these texts examples of group identity distinctions? He alludes to some of the more troubling passages that certainly can be interpreted from our contemporary perspective as racist. However, he presents a fascinating alternative explanation. He examines various texts from the Qumran community which illustrate different rituals of purity dependent upon a particular group. The implicit message of this portion of his chapter is that the comments about Blacks in the rabbinic discussion under discussion were not necessarily derogatory, but merely distinguishing between White and Black groups. This raises an essential question about human behavior. Is the almost universal need to identify with a particular group a positive human attribute or is this need a character flaw in humans that has led to untold suffering as a result of prejudice, bigotry, racism and hatred of the Other? Issues of racism concerning Blacks and Jews became very noticeable in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. References to Jews and Blacks from the perspective of pseudoscientific “race” categories are found in the writings of Viennese physicians at the end of the nineteenth century, e. g., statements concerning the “deformed” noses of Jews and Blacks that supposedly indicate hypersexuality and animalistic behavior.18 Black noses and Jewish noses were deemed to be the same; the results of these pseudoscientific “explanations” resemble the later Nuremberg For example, Sander Gilman, “The Jewish Body: A Foot-note,” in People of the Body: Jews and Judaism from an Embodied Perspective (ed. Howard Eilberg-Schwartz; Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1992), 223–42, and Sander Gilman, “The Jewish Nose. Are Jews White? Or, The History of the Nose Job,” in The Jew’s Body (ed. Sander Gilman; New York: Routledge, 1991), 169–93. 18

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racial laws and Nazi propaganda.19 These pseudoscientific findings led to the views that “Jewish” was a race category. Incidentally, alongside the Jews the few Blacks in Germany were also sent to concentration camps and death camps under the Third Reich.20 Exegetical exercises abound in regard to Jews and Blacks; it is important that they adhere to the same scholarly practices that are evident in this SBL joint session, and it is necessary to continue such conversations.

In regard to Blacks in Germany, see Tina Campt, Other Germans: Black Germans and the Politics of Race, Gender, and Memory in the Third Reich (Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press, 2004) and Hans J. Massaquoi, Destined to Witness: Growing up Black in Nazi Germany (New York: W. Morrow, 1999). 20 Firpo W. Carr, Germany’s Black Holocaust, 1890–1945 (self-published, th 4 edition, 2012), 260. 19

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PREEMPTING THE REDEMPTION: THE BONES OF THE EPHRAIMITES AND THE MESSIANIC PRETENDER IN MIDRASH RACHEL ADELMAN HEBREW COLLEGE, NEWTON, MA Every era is marked by a messianic figure, from Jesus of Nazareth and Bar Kokhba to Sabbatai Tzevi and, more recently, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson. In response to a sudden and perhaps violent death, some deem him a pretender, while others declare him herald of the End of Time, invoking his immanent resurrection or “Second Coming.” In the classic rabbinic tradition, the role of Messiah as savior is split into two figures—the one, Messiah son of Joseph (or son of Ephraim), destined to lead the Israelites triumphantly into battle, only to be slain before the walls of Jerusalem, and the other, “son of David”, soon to follow with the Final Redemption (including Resurrection of the Dead), whose reign would be eternal (b. Sukkah 52a).1 In the twentieth century, Parallels: Tanḥ. (Buber) VaYiggash 2 (ed. Buber 1, 205); Num. Rab. 14:1; Midrash Ps 60:9 (Braude, 1958–59, 1, 516); 87, 4 (Braude, 1958–59, 2, 1

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Theodor Herzl, founder of the Zionist movement, played a similar messianic role by ushering in a new era of hope for the Jewish people. In his 1904 eulogy for Herzl, Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook even likened him to the Messiah son of Joseph because he represented the military, secular, wholly “material side” of the movement towards Redemption.2 In 1949, when Herzl’s bones were disinterred from a cemetery in Vienna and brought to Mount Herzl six months after the foundation of the State of Israel, the image of the Messiah son of Joseph was resurrected once again. And the refugees soon followed, spilling out of boats, wading through waters towards the shores of the Haifa port, mere skinand-bone survivors of the concentration camps in Europe.3 These 77), Tg. Cant. 4:5, 7:4; Cant. Rab. on 2:13; Pesiqt, Rab. Kah. 5 (ed. Buber) 51a; Pesiq. Rab. 15 (ed. Friedmann, 75a) “Tosephta” Targum on Zech 12:10, in A. Sperber, The Bible in Aramaic (Leiden: Brill 1962), 3, 495. For a review of the rabbinic sources see Charles C. Torrey, “The Messiah son of Ephraim” in The Journal of Biblical Literature 66:3 (1947), 253–277. On the image of the dying or suffering Messiah, see Joseph Klausner, The Messianic Idea in Israel (London: Macmillan 1956), 487–92; Geza Vermes, Jesus the Jew (London: Alban Books Ltd. 1973), 139–40, and Joseph Heinemann, “The Messiah of Ephraim and the Premature Exodus of the Tribe of Ephraim,” in HTR 68 (1975), 1–15; Michael A. Fishbane, “Midrash and Messianism: Some Theologies of Suffering and Salvation,” in Toward the Millenium: Messianic Expectations from the Bible to Waco (ed. Peter Schäfer and Marc Cohen, Leiden: Brill, 1998), 57–71; David G. Mitchell, “Messiah Ben Joseph: A Sacrifice of Atonement for Israel,” Review of Rabbinic Judaism 10 (2007), 77–94; Israel Knohl, The Messiah before Jesus: The Suffering Servant of the Dead Sea Scrolls, trans. David Maisel (Berkeley: University of California Press 2000); and most recently Rivka Ulmer, “The Contours of the Messiah in Pesiqta Rabbati” in HTR 106 (2013), 115–44. 2 See Robert S. Wistrich’s article: “Theodore Herzl: Between Messianism and Politics”, http://goodnewsto.files.wordpress.com/2009/ 03/theodore-herzl-between-messianism-and-politics-robert-s-wistrich.pdf; And Michael Freund’s fascinating analysis, “Who’s Afraid of the Messiah”, http://www.jewishworldreview.com/0512/messiah_politics. php3#.UOqDWqz-oiE. 3 The link between the survivors of the Holocaust that flooded Israel and Ezekiel’s vision of the Dry Bones is not my own but is invoked by

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images resonate with the bones of the Ephraimites spewed on the shores of the King’s Highway after the premature Exodus from Egypt and the dry bones of Ezekiel’s vision, assembling and accruing flesh and skin as they rise from the dead. The ideological use of these two tropes in the modern context—the Messiah son of Joseph and disinterred bones— informs my reading of the midrashic account of the fate of the Ephraimites following the preemptive exodus from Egypt and the characterization of their fearless leader. Was this premature redemption merely an error or were the Ephraimites like the Maapilim of the Desert Sojourn4 or like the modern Zionists of the 20th century (according to some), transgressing God’s decree? Is their leader a prefiguration of the Messiah son of Joseph, who meets an untimely death in battle, only to usher in the Final Redemption, led by the true Messiah, son of David? Or is he a messianic pretender? Our understanding depends on how we characterize the typology of Messiah son of Joseph and the relationship between midrash and the machinations of history. In his seminal essay on “The Messiah of Ephraim and the Premature Exodus of the Tribe of Ephraim,”5 Joseph Heinemann delineates a shift in the sources concerned with the fate of the Ephraimites and associates that shift with responses to the death of modern Christian Zionists, as a prophecy fulfilled, all across the internet. I do not, in any way, wish to reinforce this messianic justification for the State of Israel, but am merely suggesting that the revival of “Dry Bones” and the phenomenon of the Messiah, son of Ephraim, seem to go handin-hand. 4 Num 14:40–45; the modern Maapilim, those that defied the British White Paper limiting the Jewish immigration into Palestine during the Second Aliyah (1934–1948), ironically borrowed their name from this biblical episode. But where these Zionists defied the British in entering “the Promised land”, the Israelites of the Desert defied God’s edict not to enter the Land of Canaan, going when the “LORD was not in their midst” (v. 42), and they were slaughtered at the hands of the Amelekites and Canaanites. The term, Maapilim, derives from the verb ayin.peh.lamed.—to be inflated, heedless (B.D.B., 779). 5 Heinemann, “The Messiah of Ephraim,” 1–15.

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Bar Kokhba following the Jewish Revolt (132–135 CE). The earlier Tannaitic source (Mekhilta Beshallaḥ) deems the premature Exodus as a transgression, but the later source (b. Sanh. 92b) characterize it as a mere miscalculation and their bones are identified with the ones whom Ezekiel resurrects in the Valley of Dura (Ezek ch. 37). The revision of the legend, according to Heinemann, draws on the association of Bar Kokhba with Meshiaḥ ben Yosef, the military messianic figure who dies in battle. In the wake of the defeat of the Revolt, where “the fallen of Bethar were given no burial” (y. Ber. 1.8, 3d), the legend of the bones of the Ephraimites must have taken on new significance. According to Heinemann, “the implications that the fate of Ephraim, i.e. of Bar Kokhba and his followers, was but what they had deserved, because of their overbearing pride and presumption, was utterly unacceptable to the survivors of the revolt. Hence the imperative need to change the tendency of the legend.”6 The softening of judgment on their transgression and the characterization of their bones as worthy of resurrection reflects a desire, on the part of the next generation, to redeem Bar Kokhba and his followers (as well as Rabbi Aqiva, his most passionate advocate). In likening the premature Exodus of the Ephraimites to a “mistake” in calculation, the Jewish Revolt is understood as a tragedy rather than heresy against the divine plan. I will not revisit the numerous critiques of Heinemann’s article at this point, and whether he accurately reflects the relationship between the evolution of the legend and historical events. As David Berger points out, his latent assumption that the image of Messiah son of Joseph did not originate as a dying Messiah is flawed.7 Nevertheless, the fault line that Heinemann delineates within the rabbinic sources as indicative of a theological crisis that dates to the Jewish Revolt serves as a useful heuristic. I would like to adapt it to a new historical context over six hundred years later—the mid-8th century, not long after the Islamic Heinemann, “Messiah of Ephraim,” 14. David Berger, “Three Typological Themes in Early Jewish Messianism: Messiah Son of Joseph, Rabbinical Calculations, and the Figure of Armilus,” Journal of the Association for Jewish Studies 9 (1984), 141– 164. 6 7

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conquest of Palestine. In analysing the passage on the account of the Ephraimite preemptive exodus from Egypt in Pirqe de-Rabbi Eliezer. I ask one primary question, which modulates into others: Are the Ephraimites characterized as sinners, followers of a messianic pretender? Or are they merely misguided by a passion for Redemption: “Let the Exodus begin!”? Does this later reworking of the legend owe its primary allegiance to earlier rabbinic tradition or does it reflect a new response to Messianism? That is, does it take on a particularly 8th century post-Islamic hue? Elsewhere, I have argued that Pirqe R. El. represents a new genre of rabbinic literature, “Narrative Midrash”, formally similar to many Second Temple works such as Jubilees and Genesis Apocryphon; they all share a keen sense of living in an epoch, on the verge of the messianic era.8 In fact, Pirqe R. El. shares many traits with apocalyptic eschatology as characterized by John J. Collins, most notably: an anticipation of cosmic catastrophe, a relationship between end time (the eschaton) and cosmic history, and a developed image of a future savior, be it the Messiah or a messianic precursor.9 One such

See Rachel Adelman, The Return of the Repressed: Pirqe de-Rabbi Eliezer and the Pseudepigrapha (Leiden: Brill 2009), 3–21. 9 John J. Collins suggests that apocalypse, as a genre, must be distinguished from apocalypticism as a sociological movement or belief. He proposes the following definition of apocalypse: “a genre of revelatory literature with a narrative framework, in which a revelation is mediated by an otherworldly being to a human recipient disclosing a transcendent reality which is both temporal, insofar as it envisages eschatological salvation, and spatial insofar as it involves another supernatural world”, in The Apocalyptic Imagination (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1988), 5. Apocalypticism has the following features: the acute expectation of the fulfillment of divine promises; cosmic catastrophe; a relationship between the time of the end and preceding human and cosmic history; angelology and demonology; salvation beyond catastrophe; salvation proceeding from God; a future savior figure with royal characteristics; and a future state characterized by the catchword “glory.” This definition is based on Klaus Koch, The Rediscovery of Apocalyptic (Naperville, IN: A. R. Allenson, 1972), 28–33, cited in Michael E. Stone, “Apocalyptic Literature,” in Jewish 8

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savior may have been modeled on the image of the audacious leader of the premature exodus from Egypt.10 In this paper, I trace the development of the legend from tannaitic sources to late midrash in order to determine whether there is a significant shift in perspective on this audacious plunge into redemptive history and how that shift may reflect back upon the contemporary context of the midrashic composition.

THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED According to midrashic tradition, God led the Israelites by the circuitous route out of Egypt, not by way of the Land of the Philistines, lest the Israelites turn back in horror from the sight of the strewn bones of the Ephraimites killed in battle.11 The legend seems to have emerged out of an attempt to explain a few obscure biblical passages, especially 1 Chr 7:20–22 and Ps 78:9. Heinemann argues that the legend “originally belonged to the targumic tradition and was eventually taken over by the Rabbis.”12 The earliest source on the fate of the Ephraimites is found in the Tannaitic exegetical midrash, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael (c. 90–135 CE). The passage is Writings of the Second Temple Period, ed. Michael E. Stone (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1984), 393. 10 I adopt an “analogical” or “typological” approach to this midrashic tradition, which David Berger succinctly defined as “the utilization of the figures, events, and periods of the past to illuminate the messianic age”, in “”Three Typological Themes in Early Jewish Messianism,” 142. The technique of analogy, linking the Exodus with the Messianic Era, was first articulated by Louis Ginzberg, Eine Unbekannte Jüdische Sekte (New York and Pressburg, 1922), 334, and Monatsschrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums 58 (1914): 412, later published in English as An Unknown Jewish Sect (New York: JTS Press 1976), 234, discussed at length in Heinemann, “The Messiah of Ephraim,” 2–4. 11 Mek. De Rabbi Ishmael, BeShallah 1, based on Exod 13:17 (ed. Horovitz-Rabin 75f.). Parallels: b. Sanh. 92b, Tg. Ps.-Jon. on Exod 13:17, Ma zor Vitry (ed. Hurwitz, 305); Targum on Ezek 37, and more briefly on Ps 78:9 and 1 Chr 7:20f; Pirqe R. El. 48, Pesiq. Rab. Kah. 11:10; Cant. Rab. on 2:7; and Exod Rab. 20:11. 12 Heinemann, “The Messiah of Ephraim,” 10.

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based on the verse: “When Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them by way of the land of the Philistines, although that was nearer; for God thought, ‘If the people face war [bi-ra’ota ilhamah, lit. ‘when they see war’], they may change their minds and return to Egypt’” (Exod 17:13). The midrash understands the phrase “bi-ra’ota ilhamah” not as “when they face war” in the future, but rather “when they see” the consequences of a war from the past. That is if the Israelites see the fall-out from a battle waged long ago with the Philistines, they will be discouraged and turn tail. The question is: what battle is being alluded to?

Mekhilta BeShallaḥ 1 (ed. Horovitz-Rabin 75f.) Another Interpretation: For God thought, “If the people see war, they may change their minds and return to Egypt” (Exod 13:17): This refers to the war of the sons of Ephraim, as it is said: “The sons of Ephraim: Shuthelah, and Bered his son…. Now the people of Gath, who were born in the land, killed them….” (1 Chr 7:20–21)—two hundred thousand children of Ephraim.13 And it also says: “The Ephraimites, armed with the bow, turned back on the day of battle” (Ps 78:9). Why? Because “they did not keep God’s covenant [brit], and refused to walk according to His teaching [torato]” (ibid., v. 10), that is, because they transgressed the [designated term for the] End and [abrogated] the oath [‘avru ‘al ha-qetz ve-’al ha-shevu’ah]. Another interpretation [ e ar aher]: So that they should not see the bones of their kinsmen scattered in Philistine and turn back.14

To fill in the background on the origin of these uninterred bones, the Mekhilta cites a passage in Chronicles that records a battle Jacob Lauterbach comments: “The phrase, ‘two hundred thousand children of Ephraim,’ is not found in our masoretic text, but is presupposed in Targum Rab Joseph (Wilna, 1816), 9 to this passage in Chronicles” (Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, 2 vols. (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2004), 1, 117–118). 14 Author’s translation. Compare to Lauterbach’s English trans., Mekhilta, 1, 117–118. 13

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between the people of Gath (Philistines) and the sons of Ephraim (1 Chr 7:20–27). Though this passage does not record when the battle took place, it is clear that Ephraim (son of Joseph) is still alive at the time, for he mourns for them deeply (v. 22) and Nun (father to Joshua) is born only after the debacle (v. 27). Furthermore, there is a distinction made between the people of Gath (Philistines), who are born in the Land, and the Ephraimites, who presumably are not and “go down to take their cattle” (v. 21). No fault (other than pillaging) is implied by the passage in Chronicles. The midrash then re-contextualizes these verses, both in terms of setting and chronology—placing it a generation or so before Moses, during the Egyptian subjugation. The second prooftext, in Psalms, refers to that generation as “stubborn and rebellious” [dor sorer u-moreh], and their military initiative points to a twofold sin, according to the Mekhilta: “they did not keep God’s covenant [brit], and refused to walk according to His teaching [torato]” (Ps 78:10), which is understood as a double transgression. The first, that “they transgressed the [designated term for the] End [‘avru ‘al ha-qetz],” most certainly refers to the Covenant between the Pieces, in which Abraham receives the prophecy that his descendants will be “strangers in a Land not their own,” where they shall be enslaved and oppressed for four hundred years (Gen 15:13). Note that the identity of the oppressor is not mentioned in the biblical text. Furthermore, the exact duration of the slavery becomes a point of contention for the exegetes, since it contradicts another verse that tells us the Israelite sojourn in Egypt had lasted four hundred and thirty years (Exod 12:40). Heinemann has addressed the various exegetical traditions concerned with harmonizing these two passages,15 and we will address those issues later with respect to the timing of the Ephraimite exodus. Suffice it to say, here, that though the Mekhilta does not specify how many years prior to the “real” Exodus, it may draw on an ambiguity about the timing as a pretext for their military venture. Here it is seen, unambiguously, as an abrogation See Joseph Heinemann’s essay:, “R”DU [210 years] Israel resided in Egypt” in Aggadah and Its Development (Jerusalem: Keter 1974), 65–74 (Heb.) 15

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[‘avru al ha-qetz], whereas the later sources attribute it to a miscalculation. The second aspect of the sin, according to the Mekhilta, refers to an oath—most likely the one Joseph exacted from his brothers to carry his bones up from Egypt when God would surely take note of them and bring them out of the Land (Gen 50:24–25). The disinterment of Joseph’s bones was Moses’ final act before leaving Egypt (Exod 13:19). According to the Mekhilta Bo (Pisha, on Exod 12:4), the Egyptians had sunk Joseph’s bones to the bottom of the Nile (or, in the Testament of Simeon 8:2, Joseph’s coffin was hidden in the tombs of the kings), in order to hold the Israelites back. As a consequence of Joseph’s oath and his “inaccessible bones” (James Kugel’s term), this becomes the “rate limiting step” in the Redemption.16 While this oath has a positive message, in reminding the Israelites of God’s promise to the patriarchs (cf. Gen 15:13–14), it inadvertently determines the timing of the Exodus and curtails any initiative that would override that oath. Furthermore Joseph’s descendants, qua Ephraim, trump that timing in presenting an alternative to the divinely sanctioned leader. That is, God has not yet “taken note of them” to bring them out of the Land. This image of bones—lost, hidden, or left strewn—resonates with the doom toll of corpses left unburied which the prophets inveighed against the northern kings in the Deuteronomistic history, specifically with regard to the descendants of Jeroboam, son of Nebat, of the tribe of Ephraim: “Anyone belonging to Jeroboam who dies in the town shall be devoured by dogs; and anyone who dies in the open country shall be eaten by the birds of the sky…” (1 Kgs 14:11). This curse formula is repeated for the House of Baasha (1 Kgs 16:4) and the House of Ahab (1 Kgs 21:24), indicative of the worst of the divinely sanctioned curses.17 The fate See the discussion in James Kugel, In Potiphar’s House (San Francisco: Harper 1990), 125–155. and Joseph Heinemann, “And Moses took the Bones of Joseph…” in Aggadot and Its Development (Jerusalem: Keter, 1974), 49–56 (Heb.). 17 Cf. Deut 28:26, Jer. 34:20. Josiah extends the curse to all the idolatrous followers of Baal and Ashera in burning their bones on the altar at Bethel (2 Kgs 23:16). 16

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of unburied corpses is characteristic for the censured Israelite monarchs and their progeny. Given the prophet, Jeremiah, deploys the term “Ephraim” as metonymic for the Northern Kingdom in general,18 it is not a far leap for the midrashic tradition to extend the trope of “uninterred bones” to the fate of the Ephraimites and their audacious leader in the premature exodus from Egypt. The Mekhilta also implies that, as a consequence of “abrogating the oath”, that is ignoring the promise that Joseph imposed on his brothers to take his bones out of Egypt and bury them in Canaan, the Ephraimites are, quid pro quo, left unburied. This leads into the next statement in the Mekhilta: “Another interpretation [davar aḥer]: [The reason God led them along the circuitous route is] so that they should not see the bones of their kinsmen scattered in Philistine and turn back.” The first argument—that the Ephraimites sinned in going up to battle against the Philistines—does not contradict the second—that the Israelites might see their bones and turn tail. “Davar aḥer”, in this case, enhances the former argument. Measure for measure, the Ephraimites all died in battle and were left unburied because they abrogated the promise to take up Joseph’s bones and bury them in the Promised Land. The legend of the strewn bones of the Ephraimites resonates both with the promise of Redemption, linked to the disinterment of Joseph’s bones and to the curse upon the kings of “Ephraim” (i.e. the Northern Tribes), whose descendants will remain unburied as fodder for the dogs of the town and the birds of the sky.

IN THE VALLEY OF DUMA Yet, the uninterred bones of the Ephraimites does not, in the Talmudic tradition, end in irredeemable tragedy. According to Rav, a Babylonian Amora of the 1st half of the 3rd century CE, the bones that Ezekiel resurrected in the Valley of Dura (Ezek ch. 37), were none other than those of the sons of Ephraim:

18

Cf. Jer 7:15, Jer 31: 9, 18, and 20.

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b. Sanhedrin 92b Who were the dead whom Ezekiel resurrected? Rav said: They were the descendants of Ephraim who calculated the end and erred [she-manu la-qetz ve-ta’u], as it is said: “The sons of Ephraim: Shutelah, his son Bered, his son Tahath, his son Eleadah, his son Zabad, his son Shutelah, also Ezer and Elead” (1 Chr 7:20–22), and they were killed by the men of Gath, born in the land, etc., and it is written “And Ephraim their father mourned many days, and his brothers came to comfort him” (ibid., v. 22).

Here the Ephraimites are characterized as having merely miscalculated the end, though the Talmud does not explain the source of their mistake. Similarly, the fifth century homiletical midrash, Pesiqta de-Rab Kahana seems to exonerate them of sin, attributing their premature Exodus to a miscalculation of eighty years.19 The Targum Pseudo-Jonathan, likewise, merges the “resurrection of the dry bones” with the lost battle against the Philistines— integrating the citations from 1 Chronicles and Psalms directly into the paraphrastic translations of the verse in Exod 13:17: Now when Pharaoh let the people go, the Lord did not lead them by way of the land of the Philistines, although it was nearer; for the Lord said, Perhaps they will change their minds when they see their brothers who died in battle 200,000 men, men of alor fro the tribe of Ephrai .” Seizing shields and spears and (other) weapons, they went down to Gath to plunder the livestock of the Philistines. And because they transgressed the decree of the Lord’s word [meimra] and went forth from Egypt thirty years before the appointed time, they were delivered into the hands of the Philistines, who slew them.

This mistake is probably linked to the year of Moses’ birth. See the discussion that follows. According to Pesiq Rab. Kah. 11:10, 180,000 from the tribe of Ephraim died and were left unburied; whereas 300,000 were killed according to Exod Rab. 20:11; and 200,000 according to the Mek. (cited above, see footnote 13), Pirqe R. El. 48 and Tg. Ps.-Jon. on Exod 13:17. 19

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RACHEL ADELMAN These were the dry bones which the word [meimra] of the Lord brought to life through the mediation of Ezekiel the prophet in the valley of Dura. If (the departing Israelites) had seen that they would have taken fright and returned to Egypt. (Trans. M. Maher, his italics)20

Nevertheless, here the Ephraimites are still characterized as having transgressed [‫ימ ָרא ַּדיְ ָי‬ ְ ֵ‫]ּובְ גִ ין ַּדעֲבָ רּו עַּ ל גְ זֵ ַּרת מ‬, while the Talmudic passage seems to exonerate them of any deliberate sin. Heinemann argues that the myth of their resurrection fed into the hopes of a sustained messianic era and the Messiah son of Joseph (i.e. Bar Kokhba) would soon be quickened following the appearance of Messiah son of David. This accounts for the shift from the wholly negative portrayal of the Ephraimite project, in the Mekhilta, to the positive identification of their bones with Ezekiel’s vision of resurrection in the Talmud. Yet, if their resurrection indicates a laudatory perspective one would expect the alternative suggestions about the identity of the corpses in the Valley of Dura to be about meritorious figures as well. The Talmud, however, lists four other opinions as to whose corpses these were—those who denied the Resurrection of the Death; those who lacked even the “moisture [laḥluḥit]” of a mitzvah (having no merit whatsoever); those who covered the Temple sanctuary with (pictures of) abominations and creeping things; and the beautiful youth who were killed by Nebuchadnezzar upon his conquest of the Southern Kingdom (b. Sanh. 92b). All but the last opinion suggest that their bones were resurrected despite seemingly irredeemable lives. The Ephraimites, then, are among poor company, their resurrection hardly indicative of a positive interpretation of the preemptive exodus. Furthermore, as Berger points out, Heinemann predicates his argument on the assumption that only the later sources acknowledge that the Messiah son of Joseph could have died, whereas it is clear, not only from the Tannaitic sources,21 but from Michael Maher, The Aramaic Bible Targum Vol. 2 (Collegeville Mi: The Liturgical Press 1994), 1974. 21 The Rabbis cite a baraita (a tannaitic source): “When he [the Messiah son of David] sees the Messiah son of Joseph slain, he will say before 20

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the Qumran scrolls, that this notion pre-dates the Jewish Revolt. Israel Knohl argues that there was a concept of a Messiah who suffers and dies well before Jesus,22 and certainly before the Messiah son of Joseph may have been associated with Bar Kokhba. Likewise, Brook Pearson rejects Heinemann’s argument on the basis of historical events surrounding the aftermath of the revolt. After the Roman massacre at Bethar, the Jews were prevented from burying their dead for six days. The association of Ezekiel’s resurrection of the dry bones with the premature exodus from Egypt, he argues, may be directly related to the re-internment of bones carried out by the survivors of the uprising.23 The critics then reject Heinemann’s argument on the basis of the dating of the sources and historical events in the aftermath of the Revolt. In addition, some of the parallel sources that do characterize their calculation as “mistaken” do not make the link with resurrection (as in Pesiq. Rab Kah. 11:10 and Pirqe R. El. 48; see Appendix A). To make a mistake is not necessarily to be exonerated of sin. Furthermore later midrashic sources amplify their transgression by associating their fearless (though flawed leader) with other false messianic movements. I would now like to explore those later midrashic workings and the typological rubric used for their messianic speculations.

God, ‘Master of the Universe, I ask you only for life’” (b. Sukkah 52a). David Mitchell argues that the image of Messiah ben Joseph as have atoning power in his death (associated with Zech 12:10) can be dated to the mid-first century (D. Mitchell, “Rabbi Dosa and the Rabbis Differ,” Review of Rabbinic Judaism 8 (2005), 77–90. 22 See especially the discussion in Knohl, The Messiah before Jesus, 62–71, and 127–128 (esp. n. 32). He identifies this early dying Messiah with Menahem (cf. m. Ḥag 2:2, b. Ḥag. 16b and y. Ḥag. 2:2 77b), who frequented the palace of Herod, led a Jewish Revolt after the king’s death and was slain in battle. 23 Brook W. R. Pearson, “Dry Bones in the Judean Desert: The Messiah of Ephraim, Ezekiel 37, and the Post-Revolutionary Followers of Bar Kokhba.” JStJ 29:2 (1998), 192–201.

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MISCALCUTATING THE END The narrative expansion on the Egyptian subjugation in Pirqe R. El. (ch. 48) begins as a kind of homily on “The Covenant between the between the Pieces” (Genesis ch. 15).24 The central questions in the opening of the chapter are how long the exile in Egypt was to last and when the actual subjugation began, based on the verse: “You shall surely know that your seed [zer’a] shall be strangers in a land not their own and they will enslave and oppress them for four hundred years” (Gen 15:13). Various arguments are forwarded. The first, brought in the name of R. Elazar ben Azariah,25 is based on the ages of the main players and their genealogies, from Joseph (Gen 37:2 and 41:46) to the election of Moses at eighty years of age (Exod 7:7)—with the sum total of four hundred.26 The second argument, brought in the name of R. Elazar ben ‘Arakh, is based on the claim that the four-hundred-year count was deemed to start from Abraham’s progeny (zer’a, according to the verse), that is from the birth of Isaac (when the patriarch was a hundred years of age).27 This is an attempt to harmonize the discrepancy between “the four hundred years” mentioned in the prophecy to Abraham (when he was supposedly seventy) and the verse in Exodus: “The time that the Israelites had sojourned in Egypt was four hundred and thirty years” (12:40).28 The third claim, in the name of R. 24

The chapter opens with the words: )‫רבי יוחנן בן זכאי פתח "ביום ההוא כרת יי’ את אברם ברית" (בראשית טו יח‬

Whether it is really a ti ta or a pseudo- ti ta, modeled on that rabbinic genre, is beyond the scope of this paper. Suffice it to say here that this formal opening is a pretext for a larger discussion about “calculating the End.” 25 These false ascriptions of teachings to tannaitic rabbis reinforce the pseudepigraphic nature of Pirqe R. El. 26 The same technique is found in Seder ‘Olam Rabbah 1 (quoted in Joseph Heinemann, “R”DU [210 years] Israel resided in Egypt” in ‘Aggadot ve-Toledotav [Aggadah and Its Development] (Jerusalem: Keter 1974), 66 (Heb.). 27 See Mek. de-Rabbi Ishmael Bo 14 (on Exod 12:40). 28 Josephus suggests that the 430 years begins from Abraham’s sojourn in Canaan, and altogether Jacob, along with his descendants,

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Yohanan b. Zakkai, is the most convoluted—an attempt to reconcile the 210-year tradition and the 215-year tradition. The former is based on the verse, in which Jacob commands his sons: “Go down [redu] and buy for us grain there [in Egypt] that we may live and not die” (Gen 42:2). As Rashi points out, the gemmatria on the resh.dalet.vav. hints that the Israelites would sojourn in Egypt for 210 years.29 Yet there is another tradition that God, in his compassion, “leapt over the End [dileg et ha-qetz],” halving the sojourn to 215.30 The reconciliation, in Pirqe R. El., is based on a three-fold finesse: 1) That Ephraim and Menashe, Joseph’s sons, were born five years before Jacob and sons descended to Egypt (210 + 5 = 215); 2) the 430-year-sojourn in Egypt (Exod 12:40), includes “days and nights”, 215 years of days and 215 years of nights;31 and 3) God reduced the time of the oppression by half. James Kugel would identify these exegetical moves as “overkill”— when the author of the midrash is aware of two or more interpretive traditions, and “unable or unwilling to decide between them, he seeks to incorporate both [or all three] in his own retelling.”32 All of these traditions, however, suggest a very precise timing to the Exodus bound by the original decree and initiated by God, both in the choice of redeemer and when he is to come. The Midrash then launches into a discussion of when and why the Egyptian oppression began. A theological question underlies the narrative: Who determines the timing of Redemption? It is surely not subject to human initiative! sojourned in Egypt for 215 years (Josephus, Biblical Antiquities 2, 15:2). The Samaritan version of the Pentateuch and the Septuagint on Exod 12:40 seem consonant with this tradition, where 430 years includes both the sojourn in Canaan and in Egypt. The 4th c. Samaritan commentary, Tebat Marqa, suggests that exactly half the years of subjugation (215) were spent in Canaan and the other half (215) in Egypt. See the discussion in Heinemann: “R”DU [210 years] Israel resided in Egypt,” 69–70. 29 Rashi loc. cit., cf. Gen Rab. 91:2. 30 Based on the verse in Cant 2:8, Cant. Rab. loc.cit.; cf. Pesiq. Rab. Kah. 5, 47 a-b, and Pesiq. Rab. 16:7b, ed. Braude 1968 1,315, n. 37. 31 Cf. Exod Rab. 18:11. 32 Kugel, In Potiphar’s House, 38.

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Pirqe de-Rabbi Eliezer Chapter 4833 Rabbi Elazar34 said: During all those years, when the Israelites abode in Egypt, they lived securely and at ease35 until Yignon [or Ganun, or Nun]36 one of the grandchildren of Ephraim, came and said to them: The Holy One, blessed be He, has revealed Himself to me, to lead you out of Egypt. The children of Ephraim, in the pride of their heart, for they were of the royal seed, and mighty men in battle, took their wives and their children, and left Egypt. The Egyptians pursued after them, and slew 200,000 of them, all of them mighty men,37 as it is said, “The children of Ephraim, being armed and carrying bows, turned back in the day of battle” (Ps 78:9).

The story of the Ephraimite preemptive exodus is not prompted by an explicit exegetical question, as it is in the Mekhilta (on Exod 13:17)—why did God lead the Israelites along the long route. Rather, the question is what event catalyzes the Egyptian This translation is based on the 1st ed., checked against D. BörnerKlein Pirke de-Rabbi Elieser: Nach der Edition Venedig 1544, unter Berücksichtigung der Edition Warschau 1852 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2004), 651, supplemented with reference to four manuscripts, as well as Radal’s edition (Warsaw 1852). 34 Warsaw ed.: Eliezer. 35 This expression, ta ve-sha’anan, is based on Prov. 1:33: “… but those who listen to me will be secure and will live at ease, without dread of disaster” (cf. Jer. 30:10, sheqet ve-sha’anan). 36 The printed editions read “Yignon” ]‫;[ עד שבא יגנון מבני בניו של אפרים‬ Higger: “Nun” ]‫ ;[ עד שבא נון מבני בניו של אפרים‬and Enelow 866: “Ganun” [‫]עד שבא גנון מבניו שלאפרים‬. Friedlander’s manuscript (Epstein) also reads: “Ganun”. 37 In the second ed. and Warsaw 1852 this phrase is included as part of the quote. Friedlander suggests that this citation of the biblical text (in Psalms) as though it includes the figure “200,000” must be corrupt; the same figure appears in the Mekhilta (see footnote 13 and 19). Heinemann suggests that this number alludes to the military units in the days of Jehoshaphat (1 Chr 17:16–17), who share the common expression “nosheqey qeshet” with Ps 78:9, “Messiah of Ephraim,” 12. 33

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enslavement and oppression. On this passage, Gerald Friedlander comments: “this was thirty years before the Exodus. This vain attempt to hasten the Divine Deliverance was the cause of the harsh bondage which began then.”38 Yet no precise miscalculation is recorded. In fact, the narrative later goes on to link the onset of oppression with the years directly preceding Moses’ birth (circa eighty years before the Exodus proper, cf. Exod 7:7).39 Perhaps, Friedlander assumes the midrash is still concerned with the discrepancy between Gen 15:13 and Exod 12:40; does the “400year decree” begin from Abraham’s sojourn in Canaan or from the birth of Isaac? Friedlander would argue that the leader of the Ephraimites may have been counting the terminus ante-quem, the onset of God’s decree of four-hundred years, from the Covenant

Gerald Friedlander, Pirke de Rabbi Eliezer, 4th ed., (New York: Sepher-Hermon Press, 1981), 377. According to Pesiqta de-Rab Kahana 11:10, the onset of the oppression is associated with the Ephraimite exodus and the birth of Moses, 80 years before the Exodus proper. Tg. Ps.-Jon. on Exod 13:17 and Cant. Rab. 2:7, and Exod Rab. 20:11 all record a miscalculation of 30 years, based on the discrepancy between Gen 15:13 and Exod 40:30. See Appendix A. 39 In the name of R. Yannai, the midrash states that the Egyptians only oppressed them for “one day of the Holy One’s [reckoning]”—that is 83 1/3 years, “until the birth of Moses” (read: three and a half years before Moses, and another eighty after his birth). The magicians of Egypt predicted the birth of an Israelite redeemer that would bring about the destruction of Egypt, and so the decree to destroy the Israelite male children was issued (Exod 1:22) three years before the birth of Moses; and after his birth, the oppression began “embittering their lives” (Exod 1:14). There are various parallels to this tradition: See Midrash Lekaḥ Tov, Exod 3b; Tg. Ps.-Jon. on Exod 1:15, and Yal. Exod 165. If one were to read this as a continuous consistent narrative (which it is not necessarily the case), the author implies three consecutive events: 1) the Ephraimites go up from Egypt and are decimated in battle; 2) the magicians foresee the birth of Moses and Pharaoh decrees the death of the Israelite male infants; 3) Moses is born some three years later, after the oppression begins. 38

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between the Pieces.40 This would seem to exonerate them, as the Talmudic account may. However, the passage heaps more blame on them. It is not merely a “mistake” but a deliberate abrogation of the divine decree; the leader of the Ephraimites does not wait for the beads of God’s abacus to add up. Rather, he makes the putative claim that he received a direct divine revelation telling him to take them out of Egypt. Until then, the Israelites dwelt “securely and at ease” in Goshen.41 Furthermore, their leader is identified with the kingly line [zer’a ha-melukhah, lit. “royal seed”]—perhaps alluding to the much maligned Jeroboam, son of Nebat, of the tribe of Ephraim42 or to Moses’ blessing of the tribe43—and thus, “in the pride of their heart,” they rose up from Egypt. Here, the reference to 1 Chronicles 7:20–22 is lost, and the enemies who slaughter the Ephraimites are not from Gath, that is Philistine, but rather Egyptian. By amplifying his guilt, the midrash fashions Yignon (or Ganun, or Nun)44 into the figure of a messianic pretender. The leader of the preemptive exodus does not resemble the Messiah son of Joseph at all—the precursor to the Messiah of the House of The source of this miscalculation is made explicit in Exod Rab. 20:11 (on verse 17:13) and Cant. Rab. 2:7. 41 The idea that a premature exodus prompts the oppression is also suggested by the Book of Jubilees. All the bones of the sons of Jacob (with the exception of Joseph’s) were taken out of Egypt and brought to Canaan. Some of the Israelites, including Amram, accompanied their ancestors’ remains. But they were “forced to” stay when a war broke out between Egypt and Canaan and Pharaoh “closed the gates of Egypt”, whereupon the oppression began (Jubilees 46:8–13, discussed also in Heinemann, “RD”U”, 68–69, and Kugel, In Potiphar’s House, 142–143). 42 1 Kgs 11–14. 43 Deut 33:16. 44 The name may derive from “Non” who is identified as the father of Joshua in 1 Chr. 7:27 (though this biblical passage is not cited here). Much more compelling is the association with Yinnon (which connotes afflicition), the name of the Messiah in R. Eleazar Kallir’s piyyut, written for the Musaf service of Yom Kippur (cited in Fishbane, “Midrash and Messianism”, 59). See also N. M. Goetel, “Ha-shem ‘Yinnon’ be-’aspeklariah meshihit,” in Shanah be-Shanah 1989, 361–371 (Heb.) 40

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David who falls in battle as a hero. While Pirqe R. El. does recognize such a “War Messiah” of the House of Joseph—in chapter 19, “Creation on the Eve of the Sabbath”—he is named Menahem son of Amiel.45

“YOU CAN’T HURRY LOVE…” In Canticles Rabbah, the herald of the Ephraimite exodus is explicitly identified as a messianic pretender by likening him to other deluded leaders. The midrash begins as a commentary on the verse in Canticles 2:7 and its three reiterations (3:5, 5:8 and 8:4): “I swear to you [nishba’ati], O daughters of Jerusalem, by the gazelles or the wild does: do not stir up or awaken love until it is ready!” There verses are read as a veiled reference to four oaths [shevu’ot] imposed by God upon Israel: “that they should not rebel against the Governments, that they should not seek to hasten the end [she-l’o i haqu ‘al ha-qetz], that they should not reveal their mysteries to the other nations, and that they should not attempt to go up from the Diaspora by force.”46

Pirqe R. El. 19: “Just as the horns of the reêm [wild ox] are taller than those of all beasts and animals, and it gores to its right and to its left, likewise (is it with) Menachem, son of ‘Ammiel, son of Joseph, his horns are taller than those of all kings, and he will gore in the future towards the four corners of the heavens, and concerning him Moses said this verse, ‘His firstling bullock, majesty is his, and his horns are the horns of the reêm: with them he shall gore the peoples all of them, even the ends of the earth’ (Deut 33:17).” Friedlander’s trans., Pirke, 131; ch. 18 in his edition and in Higger’s. The name also appears in The Apocalypse of Zerubbabel, in Midrashei Ge’ulah, ed. Kaufman 1963: 107. According to the Zohar (Num.173b) Menahem is Messiah ben David. See also Y. Yahalom, on the piyut “‘Oto ha-Yom” in Az be-ein kol: seder ha-’avodah ha-Erets-Yiśraeli haqadum le-yom hakipurim (Jerusalem: Magnes Press 1996), 131, l. 46–47 (Heb.); and J. Elbaum “M s i iut be-Pirqe de-Rabbi Eliezer—Apoqalipsa uMidrash,” in Te’udah 11 (1996), 261, n. 41 (Heb.). Friedlander suggests that ‘Ammiel appears to be another form of “Emanuel” (ibid., 131, n. 4). 46 Based on the Soncino, trans. Maurice Simon, Midrash Rabbah (Soncino Press: London 1939), 114–115. 45

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Canticles Rabbah 2:7 R. ‘Oni’a said: the four oaths that [God] made them swear correspond to the four generations that tried to hasten the end [ ahaqu ‘al ha-qetz] and failed. These are them: one in the days of Amram,47 one in the days of Deinai,48 one in the days of son of Koziva, and one in the days of Shutelach, son of Ephraim, as it says: “The children of Ephraim, armed with the bow [turned back on the day of battle]” (Ps 78:9)…49 They reckoned [the four hundred years of subjugation] from the time when the decree was pronounced, when God spoke with Abraham, our forefather, between the pieces, yet it began from the birth of Isaac.50 What did they do? They assembled and went out to war and many of them were slain. Why so? Because they did not believe in God and did not trust in His salvation, for they transgressed the end [‘avru ‘al ha-qetz] and abrogated the oath [‘avru ‘al ha-shevu’ah], as it says, “…do not stir up or awaken love [‘im ta’iru ‘im te’oreru!] until it is ready” (Cant 2:7).

In this passage, the leader of the Ephraimite exodus remains unnamed, and yet he is likened to three other audacious leaders of “false” redemptions that caused the death of many. The parallel with Bar Kokhba, here named “Ben Koziva”, is the most telling. The revolutionary figure, who had called himself Nasi (lit. “prince”, the patriarch of the Jewish people), was the leader of the Second Jewish Revolt, which had been prompted by the retraction of Hadrian’s promise to rebuild the Temple around 130 CE. The rabbinic texts are distinctly ambivalent about his militarism. While This tradition is preserved in Jubilees 46:8–13 (see footnote 40). A reference, perhaps, to Eliezer ben Din’ai, who was a leader of the zealots [biriyonim, the sicarii sect?] at the end of the Second Temple Period (m. Sotah 9:9, b. Sotah 47a). 49 The midrash brings in another opinion listing three of the same generations, but substituting “the days of Deinai” with the period of the Shemad (the great persecution), perhaps an allusion to the Hadrianic decrees, which prompted the Jewish Revolt, 132–135 CE. 50 Their miscalculation was based on a thirty year discrepancy. 47 48

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Rabbi Aqiva proclaims him “Messiah”, reconfiguring his name as a fulfillment of Balaam’s prophecy that “A star [kokhav] would rise from Jacob” (Num 24:17), the Rabbis mockingly name him Ben Koziva [deceiver].51 In the Aggadah, which expands on antecedents to the fall of Bethar, the pious Eleazar ha-Modai (Tanna of the academy at Yavneh) is struck dead by the military leader who falls prey to the plot of a conniving Samaritan. Immediately, Bethar is conquered and Ben Koziva killed.52 There is very little historical corroboration for this account in the Palestinian Talmud. Rather the legend is brought to malign the militarism and self-proclaimed Messianism of Bar Kokhba’s Revolt. As Schäfer remarks, “Bar Kokhba and his uprising remain conspicuously out of place within the ideal picture that the Rabbis draw of themselves. The overall attitude is censorious, and no reliable evidence supports the theory that the revolt was popular among the Rabbis and their followers.”53 This passage from Cant. Rab. is written in the same spirit, but seems to further condemn any messianic speculation and to affirm pacifism with respect to ushering in the End Time. The leader of the Ephraimite exodus is fashioned in the same image as Bar Kokhba—a delusional leader of a militaristic movement that lacked faith in divine providence. As in the Mekhilta, the sin of the Ephraimites has two dimensions—they transgressed against “the end [‘avru ‘al ha-qetz]” and against “the oath [avru ‘al ha-shevu’ah], parallel to the double phrase, “do not stir up or awaken [‘im ta’iru ‘im te’oreru] love,” in Cant 2:7. Perhaps the first refers to the principle that one must not See y. Ta’an. 4:8/27. Peter Schäfer argues that the attribution to R. Aqiva is a later accretion, and should be read as a teaching attributed to R. Yehuda ha-Nasi (=”Rabbi”), as it is in the parallel story in Lam. Rab. 2:4: “R. Yohanan said: “Rabbi/my teacher used to expound: ‘A star shall step forth from Jacob’ (Num 24:17) [in this way:] don’t read ‘star’ [kokhav] but ‘liar’ [kozav].” See the discussion in Peter Schäfer, “Bar Kokhba and the Rabbis” in The Bar Kokhba War Reconsidered, ed. Peter Schäfer (Tubingen: Mohr Siebeck 2003), 2–5. 52 y. Ta’an. 4:8/28, quoted in Schäfer, ibid., 6. See the parallels in Lam Rab. 2:4; Lam Rab. ed. Buber, 101. 53 Ibid., 7. 51

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calculate the End Time—in this case, the Redemption out of Egypt, and, by analogy, the messianic era.54 The hour of Salvation is divinely fixed and may not be determined by a self-proclaimed human redeemer. The second aspect of the transgression (“against the oath” refers back to the adjuration “not to hasten the end [shel’o i haqu ‘al ha-qetz]”. While the two seem to overlap, the former refers to plotting the timing of the Redemption, while the latter refers to acting on that initiative. This passage in Cant. Rab. is consonant with the tone in which Pirqe R. El. unequivocally denounces the preemptive Exodus from Egypt. Though it is attributed to a mistake in timing, speculation about calculating the moment of Redemption here is generally condemned as indicative that “they did not believe in God and did not trust in his salvation.” Under the rubric of the “four oaths”, Cant. Rab. frames it as part of a broader set of negative attitudes towards any messianic speculation, whereas the passage in Pirqe R. El. is more circumscribed since the composition, as a whole, engages extensively with eschatological themes and motifs.55

WHO IS THE MESSIANIC PRETENDER? Nevertheless, the passage in Pirqe R. El. unequivocally condemns the leader of the Ephraimites. In the eighth century post-Islamic context, upon whom would the author model this messianic pretender? Here I venture into somewhat speculative territory. Given the historical context, I suggest that Abu ‘Isa al Isfahani (d. ca. 750)56 is the most likely candidate for the post. He is identified

See b. Sanh. 97b, and Tg.-Ps.-Jon. on Gen 50:25, and the discussion in E. Urbach, Emunot ve’De’ot [The Sages—Their Concepts and Beliefs] (Jerusalem: Magnes Press 1979), 601 ff. (Heb.). 55 See Elbaum “Meshi iut,” 245–266. 56 According to Jewish sources, Maimonides and Qirqisani (the Karaite polymath), Abu Isa began his military revolt in Isfahan (Persia) and moved on to Baghdad, during the reign of ‘Abd al-Malik, the fifth Umayyad Caliph (697/8–705). Shahrastani, the great pre-modern Arab historian, tells us that Abu Isa began his mission in the reign of the last Umayyad Caliph, Marwin ibn Muhammad (744–750). See Steven M. 54

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with the messianic movement known as the ‘Isawiyya, which had close ties with the ghulât, the proto-Shi’ite extremists and propagandists. According to Steven Wasserstrom, “Abu ‘Isa was the most influential Jewish ‘prophet’ between Bar Kokhba, in the second century, and Shabbetai Tzvi in the seventeenth century. In fact, this charismatic sectarian played on Jewish messianic expectations in an almost-successful attempt to create a new political Judaism along the lines of Shi’ism. His political creation, the ‘Isawiyya, was nothing less than the most important Jewish sect (after the Karaites), in the millennium from the rise of Islam until the tenth/sixteenth century.”57 The description of Abu ‘Isa, according to Arab chronologist, Shahrastani, is strikingly similar to the description of Messiah ben Joseph. He leads a Jewish battalion into an uprising against the Umayyad caliphate, wielding a myrtle stick that offers apotropaic powers, but is later slain in battle. His syncretistic tenet that both Jesus and Mohammed were true prophets, albeit to their own communities, must have presented a radical affront to rabbinism in the 8th century.58 In fact his name, Abu ‘Isa (father of the “savior”, i.e. Jesus), may be a later accretion and reflect negatively on his problematic status within the Jewish community.59 The question as to whether the author of Pirqe R. El. was familiar with Abu ‘Isa and his revolutionary movement remains one of speculation. While the historical context of the composition written most likely during the early stages of the Abbasid Caliphate—post-dates the inception of this messianic

Wasserstrom, “The ʿĪsāwiyya Revisited” Studia Islamica 75 (1992), 57–80, 57. 57 Wasserstrom, “ʿĪsāwiyya,” 57. 58 The most well-known Jewish apocalypse of this period, the “Secrets of Shimon bar Yochai,” also holds syncretistic views. There, Muhammad is characterized as a true prophet. As Wasserstrom notes, Goitein has stated that in this text “the influence [of the ‘Isiwiyya] is discernible” (ibid., 62). 59 By contrast, the Karaites, Qirqisani and Yehuda Hadassi, refer to.him as “Obadiah” [servant of God]. See Wasserstrom, ibid., 60.

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movement, there is a geographical disparity between the two.60 The Iswayya revolt is closely associated, according to Wasserstrom, with events devolving from “the second Purge” of 736–737, when similar uprisings led by Al-Mantsur were crushed.61 Abu ‘Isa, however, originated in his hometown in Nisibis (Turkey), and moved on to Isfahan (Persia), while the provenance of Pirqe R. El. was most likely Palestine, based on allusions to historical events, customs, as well ascetic values closely associated with the sect “Mourners for Zion” [‫]אבלי ציון‬. Nevertheless, strands of the ‘Isawiyya may have settled in Palestine (where the Palestinian Rabbi Jacob ibn Ephraim may have encountered them).62 If this occurred at any time before the rise of the Abbasid dynasty, then the author of Pirqe R. El. might have been familiar with the legends surrounding Abu ‘Isa and used him and his revolutionary movement as the model for the preemptive exodus from Egypt. The narrative implies a veiled critique on his presumed messianic status as the herald that would usher in the ultimate Redeemer of the End of Days.

CONCLUSION There is a distinct shift between the earlier and later midrashic sources. The idea that the Ephraimites are identified with a false messianic movement is only in its seedling form in the earlier rabbinic texts, but gains momentum in the later midrashim—Pirqe R. El. and Cant. Rab. The Exodus from Egypt is understood as a typology for all subsequent acts of divine salvation, especially prescient of the Final Redemption in the End of Days. These later midrashic texts imply that the divine plot is not to be humanly directed. The Ephraimite exodus, either by a deliberate miscalculation or by a preemptive strike, is initiated before the final term of Egyptian enslavement has ended, an act of sheer hubris, forcing God’s hand. The leader of this exodus is fashioned into the image For the dating of Pirqe R. El., see the discussion in Adelman, Return of the Repressed, 41–42. 61 Wasserstrom, ibid., 71–72. 62 Wasserstrom, ibid., 79. 60

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of a messianic pretender. The legend combines two motifs—a separatist act initiated by the tribe of Ephraim in abrogation of an oath, and the consequent fate of unburied bones. By identifying the strewn corpses with Ezekiel’s vision of the dry bones, in the Talmud, a positive valence may be cast upon them. The later tradition, however, is unequivocally damning. Just as there are voices that express dismay about Herzl’s Zionist vision, Altneuland, and others that identify him with Messiah son of Joseph, the midrashic tradition conveys a multiplicity of perspectives on the relationship between human initiative, the nationalistic move into history, and the divine plan. In his poem “To a Mouse, on Turning Her Up in Her Nest with the Plough,” Robert Burns muses: “The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley.” So too, ruminating on the strewn bones of history, “proving foresight may be vain,” the authors of the late Midrash surrender the will to usher in the Redemption, understanding that they are mere motes in the eye of the divine scheme.

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APPENDIX A: CHART SUMMARIZING THE SOURCES ON THE LEGEND OF THE BONES OF THE EPHRAIMITES Mek. BeShallaḥ

Tg. Ps-Jon on b. Sanh. Exod 13:17 92b

Pesiq. Cant Rab. Pirqe R. El. Exod Rab. Rab. Kah. 2:7 48 20:11 11

Exegetical prompt or question

Exod 13:17 What war?

Exod 13:17 What war? Whose bones?

Ezek 37 “Whose bones”?

Exod 13:17 What war?

Cant 2:7 What oath?

None explicit

Exod 13:17

Prooftext

1 Chr 7:21–22; Ps 78:8

Paraphrastic i.e. Ps 78:8; and 1 Chr 7:21–22 integrated into the translation

1 Chr 7:21–22

Ps 78:8

Ps 78:8

Ps 78:8–9

1 Chr 7:21–22; Ps 78:8; Hos 9 13

Transgression or mistake?

Abrogated covenant AND oath

Mistake

Mistake

Pre-empt Pride of Mistake the End heart; claim and fail revelation

?

80 years

30 years

What was ? the nature of the ‘mistake’?

30 years

?

30 years

8

THE POETRY OF CREATION: ZEVADIAH AND AMITTAI’S

YOTZEROT LE-ḤATAN

(“GROOM’S YOTZERS”) LAURA LIEBER

DUKE UNIVERSITY Every wedding is an act of creation, and often also (explicitly or implicitly) a ritual in anticipation of creation. A wedding is an act of creation in that it creates a new household in a community; something fundamental changes in the relationship of two individuals, not only to each other but to their families and society. And weddings anticipate creation because, traditionally, procreation is understood to be one of the major purposes of marriage. Indeed, the directness with which pre-modern works address fertility in the context of a wedding can be startling to modern readers. Whereas the modern wedding emphasizes romance and the meaning of the new status to the individuals involved—the emotional bond between the newlywed couple—ancient marriage rites focus on the community and its expectation that the new couple will be productive. Thus ancient (and, in somewhat sublimated ways, modern) marriage rites and customs often ricochet between prayerfulness and ribaldry as they anticipate the consummation of the new union and its hoped-for fruitfulness. 103

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If marriage can be seen as an individually and socially creative act, then the biblical story of Adam and Eve in Genesis can be seen as its paradigmatic enaction in Judaism and Christianity. Gen 1:26– 28 describes the creation of male and female humans and contains the command to “be fruitful and multiply”—the biological basis of marriage, so to speak—while Gen 2:22–24 presents the union of Adam and Eve (“thus a man leaves his father and mother and clings to his wife”) as the origin of the societal institution itself. Later writers, who regarded these opening chapters of Genesis as offering a prototype for marriage, invoked Adam and Eve in the course of wedding ceremonies. Thus Adam and Eve are mentioned in the marriage ceremony in Tobit 8, and this first couple likewise appears in the earliest known Christian marriage liturgies, including the earliest known Christian marriage liturgy of the West, that of Paulinus of Nola (fifth century CE), who refers to the first couple as “the original model for the holy alliance now being sealed.”1 The first marriage is also mentioned in the sixth century Leonine Sacramentary2 as well as the earliest attested Byzantine and Coptic marriage rites. Similarly, Rabbinic sources, particularly from the Amoraic and later periods in Palestine, likewise treat the union of Adam and Eve as a paradigm for marriage, and like the early Christian exegetes, liturgists, and artisans, the Rabbis read the biblical text in light of their own marriage customs and ideals. As Michael Satlow notes, “[The] evidence, scattered and scanty as it may be, indicates that throughout the Hellenistic period, especially… in Palestine, there was an increasing tendency to see contemporary marriage as patterned on the biblical primal marriage.”3 This trend towards treating Gen 1–2 as the paradigm for all subsequent weddings, while attested in Rabbinic midrash and other relatively early Jewish sources, finds its fullest and most elaborate early articulation in Byzantine piyyutim—liturgical poems— Mark Searle and Kenneth W. Stevenson, Documents of the Marriage Liturgy (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1992), 32. 2 Documents of Marriage, 42–43. 3 Michael Satlow, Jewish Marriage in Antiquity (Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2001), 60. 1

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composed for recitation on the Shabbat following the marriage ceremony. In turn, these piyyutim establish a trope which becomes a commonplace in medieval Ashkenazic wedding poetry.4 Here I will examine two of the earliest examples of le-ḥatan (“for the groom”) piyyutim5: the Yotzer le-Ḥatan (“Groom’s Yotzer”) by Zevadiah, who lived during the early ninth century in Italy, and the Yotzer le-Ḥatan by another Italian payyetan, Amittai b. Shefatiah, who lived a generation later. These two works, in addition to their early date (they are the two earliest extant yotzerot le-ḥatan), share the use of Gen 1–2 as a structural device, thus by definition they integrate the creation story into the marital context in ways that resemble, but expand upon, earlier Jewish traditions which make this same association. This study will explore how these two ninth century Italian poets amplified the association between creation and marriage found in earlier midrashic sources while each author, through his dynamic reading of the biblical text, also makes the motif his own.

POETIC BACKGROUND; MIDRASHIC SOURCES While Gen 2 provides an etiology for the social institution of marriage,6 Gen. Rab. appears to be the earliest midrashic source to See Menahem Schmelzer, “Wedding Piyyutim by the Early Sages of Ashkenaz,” in Studies in Hebrew Poetry and Jewish Heritage In Memory of Aharon Mirsky (Ramat Gan: Bar Ilan University Press, 2006), 173–185. 5 The earliest le-ḥatan piyyutim predate those presented here, although they are not yotzerot: one is the qedushta, Aha at Ne’uri , by the payyetan Eleazar beRabbi Qallir (ca. late 6th /early 7th century CE); and a second is by the poet Pinchas ha-Kohen (late 8th century), who has a birkat ha-mazon wedding piyyut (composed for recitation at the post-wedding banquet) titled “berakhah le-ḥatan” in the MS. Zevadiah’s yotzer le-ḥatan appears to be the earliest example of the yotzer le-ḥatan genre. Amittai, we should note, also composed a qedushta le-ḥatan, but it does not have the clear focus on Gen 1–3 that his yotzer le-ḥatan has. 6 As Satlow notes, the creation of “male and female” in Gen1 seems to denote simply the natural order—the biological differentiation of the sexes—while the use of the terms “man and wife” in Gen 2 suggests the creation of a social institution. See his Jewish Marriage, 58. Satlow surveys 4

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conceptualize the introduction of the first woman to the first man as a wedding. By this distinction, I mean that the Rabbis (particularly the Palestinian Amoraim) read Gen 1 and 2 as containing clues not only to the social institution in which a new family unit is created but the rituals which mark the transition. In other contexts, I have used these sources to help delineate the specific wedding customs of Jewish communities in Late Antiquity, which are surprisingly poorly documented,7 but here the focus is on the narrative and exegetical content of these passages in their own right. The first text that bears examination is Gen Rab. 8:13, which understands Gen 1:28—“And God blessed them”—as indicating a liturgical act that is central to the wedding ceremony, the cup of blessing: Rabbi Abbahu said: The Holy One, blessed be He, took a cup of blessing and blessed them [Adam and Eve]. Rabbi Judah said in the name of Rabbi Simon: “Michael and Gabriel were the first man’s groomsmen (shoshvinin).” Rabbi Simlai said: “We find that the Holy One, blessed be He, blesses grooms, adorns brides, visits the sick, buries the dead, and recites the blessing for mourners.” He blesses grooms—as it is written, “And God blessed them” (Gen 1:28); He adorns brides—as it is written, “And the Lord God built the rib… into a woman” (Gen 2: 22); He visits the sick—as it is written, “And the Lord appeared to him,” etc. (Gen 18:1); He buries the dead—as it is written, “And He buried him in the valley,” etc. (Deut 34: 6)

God here acts as the wedding officiant (the pronubus) as well as the “wedding coordinator”: having bedecked the bride, He takes up the cup of blessing to sanction the union of the couple standing before

“the marriage myth of Adam and Eve” on pages 57–67, and includes a brief discussion of Qumranic material in this section, as well. 7 On Jewish marriage practices in late antiquity, in addition to Satlow, see my article, “The Le-Hatan Piyyutim of Qallir and Amittai: Jewish Marriage Customs in Early Byzantium,” in Talmuda de-Eretz Yisrael: Archaeology and the Rabbis in Late Ancient Palestine, ed. Steven Fine and Aaron Koller (Berlin: de Gruyter, forthcoming).

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Him.8 According to this reading of Gen 1:28, not only does the institution of marriage receive divine blessing here, but so do the very rituals and processes which constitute it. The second locus classicus of the “wedding” of Adam and Eve appears in an interpretation of Gen 2:22, also in Gen Rab., in which God “builds” (‫ )ויבן‬the rib taken from the man into his mate. In Gen Rab. 18:1, the verb “to build” leads not to the potentially more obvious analogies of house-building or homemaking but instead evokes elaborate bridal coiffures, and from there other wedding customs. The passage states: Rabbi Aibu (others state the following in R. Banyah’s name, who taught it in the name of Rabbi Simeon ben Yohai) said: “He [God] adorned her [Eve] like a bride and brought her to him [Adam], for there are places they call plaited hair banyata (lit., ‘buildings’)’.” Rabbi Hama b. Rabbi Hanina said: “What are you thinking, that He brought her to him from under a carob tree or a sycamore tree?! Surely He first decked her out with twenty-four pieces of finery and then brought her to him, in accord with what is written: ‘You were in Eden, the garden of God; every precious stone was your adornment: carnelian, chrysolite, and amethyst; beryl, lapis lazuli, and jasper; sapphire, turquoise, and emerald; and gold beautifully wrought for you, mined for you, prepared the day you were created’ (Ezek 28:13).” The Rabbis and Rabbi Simeon b. Lakish [differed]: the Rabbis said there were ten [chambers— ḥuppot]9 while Rabbi Simeon b. Lakish said there were eleven.

Satlow notes that in all other instances where a “cup of blessing” is mentioned, such as in the context of the Grace after Meals, it is taken up by humans. See Satlow, Jewish Marriage, 62. 9 It seems likely that the tradition of marriage chambers in Eden (ḥuppot) is ultimately related to the pun we find in other sources between ‫( גן‬garden) and ‫( גינון‬marriage chamber)—thus “the garden of Eden” (gan eden) is read as “the marriage chamber of Eden” (ginnun eden). See Lev. Rab. 9:6, Num. Rab. 13:2, Cant Rab. 1:24 and 5:1. What is striking is that in this midrash, as in Amittai’s piyyut, the chamber is built not for God and Israel (as it is in the sources where the pun is explicit) but rather for the first human couple. 8

108

LAURA LIEBER [Rabbi Hama b. R. Hanina said: There were thirteen]… R. Levi and R. Simon [differed]: one said that there were nine, while the other said ten. The view that there were ten agrees with the Rabbis; while he who says nine argues: the ‘gold’ mentioned in this verse certainly does not allude to a chamber?! Rabbi Aha bar Hanina said: He made the walls of gold and the covering of precious stones and pearls. Rabbi Eleazar bar Karsana said in R. Aha’s name: He even made him hooks of gold.10

This midrash reads the word ‫—ויבן‬literally, “then He built”—as “then He did up [her hair],” which the intertext from Ezek 28:13 extends to include the general ornamentation of a bride.11 It thus echoes the brief reference to God’s role as “adorner of brides” in the previous passage. Because the second verb in Gen 2:22, “then He brought her (‫)ויביאה‬,” has connotations of an introduction for the purpose of physical intimacy (i.e., ‫ביאה‬, and hence the extended discussion of marriage chambers), the juxtaposition of the two words (...‫ויביאה‬...‫ )ויבן‬becomes an elliptical description of the wedding from initial preparations to consummation. What is of particular interest here is the fact that this passage seems to understand elements of the created world to be part of the physical “staging” of the first marriage.12 Thus, the Rabbis model the wedding of Adam and Eve on those of their own society but with grandiose detailing that befits a wedding where God is not only the officiant but the “family” of both parties. Given that the two le-ḥatan piyyutim presented here come from the ninth century, and thus centuries after Ge. Rab., it is worth This passage is paralleled in Eccl Rab. 7:6–7. The trope about the wedding chambers which concludes the passage quoted above circulated independently and was more widespread; see, for example, b. B. Bat. 75a, Lev. Rab. 20:2, and Pirqe R. El. 12. 11 The understanding that “built” means “braiding” appears a few times in Talmudic literature, but in the context of teaching that plaiting hair is forbidden on the Sabbath; see y. Šabb. 10:7, 12c; b. Šabb. 95a; and b. Nid. 45b. 12 Ezek 28:13 resonates with Gen 2:11–12, as they share the motif of gemstones in Eden. 10

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pausing to note that some of these motifs—particularly the interpretation of Ezek 28:13 that appears first in Gen Rab. 18:1— circulated more widely and appear in midrashic collections produced closer in time to the period when Zevadiah and Amittai flourished. These later sources do not, however, significantly embellish the “marriage of Adam and Eve” theme beyond what we find in Gen Rab. Thus, while motifs in later midrashic works provide texture in the piyyutim presented here (particularly Pirqe R. El., as the annotations in the translations indicate), the material from Gen Rab. seems to be uniquely formative in terms of the general conceit shared by the two poems: the connection between Gen 1–2 and the marriage ceremony. The final important early Rabbinic source to consider as a source for imagery of the first wedding is the Groom’s Blessing, a forerunner of the more familiar Sheva Berakhot. While reference is made to this blessing in the Mishnah,13 the earliest extant text of the Groom’s Blessing appears in b. Ketub. 7b–8a, where the text of six blessings is attributed to the Babylonian Amora Rav Yehudah. While this text does not develop the wedding imagery of Adam and Eve per se, it is rich with allusions to the Genesis creation story. The first blessing uses the word ‫( ברא‬He created); the second describes God as the one who “fashioned” (‫ )יצר‬Adam; both the second and third blessing conclude by describing God as the creator of man (‫ ;)יוצר האדם‬Eve is alluded to as “the abode” (‫ )בנין‬of Adam, which evokes Gen 2:28; and the fifth blessing describes the joy of the first couple in the garden of Eden. While this text does not add significantly to our picture of the wedding rites of Adam and Eve, it makes explicit the vital connection between that story and the contemporary wedding practices—that is, it concretizes and enacts the implicit liturgical elements of the aggadic sources. And it is to the place where the legends and the liturgy come together—the yotzer le-ḥatan piyyutim—that we now turn.

13

m. Meg. 4:3; see, too, t. Meg. 3:7.

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THE PIYYUTIM The midrashic sources discussed above transform the union of Adam and Eve into a programmatic depiction of human nuptials; and the Talmudic “Groom’s Blessing,” through its allusions to the language of Genesis’ opening chapters, subtly broadens the scope of this general conceit by weaving the language of the creation story (Gen 1–2) more broadly into the context of the marriage ceremony. The two piyyutim presented here go even further and imagine the entire creation narrative, particularly Gen 1, as essentially the “staging” for the first wedding.14 But while Zevadiah and Amittai both reflect ninth century Byzantine Italian Jewish custom and their two yotzer le-ḥatan poems share both a conceit and a poetic structure, each payyetan shapes the narrative and exegetical potential of the biblical text in distinctive ways. To put it briefly, Zevadiah emphasizes the “yotzer” (creation) elements of the piyyut genre and focuses largely on the creation narrative of Gen 1, while Amittai stresses the “ḥatan” (groom, wedding, and marriage) elements and includes the events of Gen 3 in his piyyut, as well.15 Formally, the two yotzerot share a common structure: stanzas of three lines with a refrain following every third stanza. Both piyyutim employ acrostics as a primary structuring device: in each, the first letter of each stanza constitutes an alphabetical acrostic from alef to tav; in Zevadiah’s piyyut, the first letter of each refrain spells out “Zevadiah, may he be strong” (‫ ;)זבדיה חזק‬the refrain in Amittai is four lines long and spells out the poet’s name (‫)אמתי‬.16 It is worth noting that the marriage motif does not appear—insofar as I’ve been able to determine—in piyyutim which explicate the opening chapters of Genesis as part of the regular lectionary. 15 Satlow notes that, by and large, Palestinian rabbis favored Gen 2 over Gen 1 in their justification of marriage, as Gen 2 fit their ideological understandings of marriage better. See Jewish Marriage, 61–66. 16 The text of Zevadiah used here comes from: Yonah David, The Poems of Zevadiah (Jerusalem: Akhshav, 1971/72), 53–60. The text of Amittai comes from Benjamin Klar, The Chronicle of Ahima’az (Jerusalem: Tarshish, 1974), 60–62. Both are, at times, corrected against the version in the Ma’agarim database. Translation of both piyyutim appear as Appendices to this article. 14

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The “refrain” in Zevadiah’s piyyut is not a true refrain: while each iteration concludes with the word “qadosh” (“Holy One”), in anticipation of the qedushah (the recitation of which would follow the poem), each unit specifies the day of creation being embellished and quotes from the Psalm of the Day associated with that day in Rabbinic tradition. Through his integration of the Psalm of the Day into the narrative of Gen 1, Zevadiah’s piyyut resembles an expanded, poeticized version of a Talmudic discussion on the reasons behind the choice of each daily psalm (b. Roš. Haš. 31a).17 Amittai’s refrain, by contrast, while also concluding with the word “qadosh,” is repeated verbatim in each instance. Zevadiah’s poem See m. Tamid 7:4, among other sources which list “the psalm of the day.” The passage in b. Roš. Haš. 31a reads: “It has been taught: ‘R. Judah said in the name of R. Akiba: On the first day [of the week] what [psalm] did they [the Levites] say? [The one commencing] ‘The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof’, because He took possession and gave possession and was [sole] ruler in His universe. On the second day what did they say? [The one commencing], ‘Great is the Lord and highly to be praised’, because he divided His works and reigned over them like a king. On the third day they said, ‘God stands in the divine assembly’, because He revealed the earth in His wisdom and established the world for His community. On the fourth day they said, ‘O Lord, God, to whom vengeance belongs’, because He created the sun and the moon and will one day punish those who serve them. On the fifth day they said, ‘Sing aloud to the God of our strength’, because He created fishes and birds to praise His name. On the sixth day they said, ‘The Lord reigns, He is clothed in majesty’, because He completed His work and reigned over His creatures. On the seventh day they said, ‘A psalm a song for the Sabbath day’, to wit, for the day which will be all Sabbath … On the first day [the reason for the psalm to be said is] because He took possession and gave possession and was [sole] ruler in His world; on the second day because He divided and ruled over them; on the third day because He revealed the earth in His wisdom and established the world for His community; on the fourth day, because He created the sun and the moon and will one day punish those who serve them; on the fifth day because He created birds and fishes to praise His name; on the sixth day because He completed His work and reigned over His creatures; on the seventh day, because He rested.” 17

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has a total of twenty-four stanzas (the letter tav is tripled), while Amittai’s has only twenty-two stanzas. Each of these poems was composed for the same liturgical station: they introduce the Yotzer Or (“Creator of Light”) prayer that precedes the Shema and which includes a recitation of the Qedushah (Isa 6:3 and Ezek 3:12), a feature anticipated by the recitation of qadosh in each poem’s refrain. To some extent, attention to the idea of creation is inherent in the genre—“yotzer” meaning “Creator”—but typically that contextual demand can be met through a brief transition at the end of the poem.18 In these two wedding hymns, by contrast, creation is the dominant theme throughout both poems.

ZEVADIAH’S YOTZER LE-ḤATAN: In Zevadiah’s piyyut, each day of creation as described in Gen 1 is treated over the course of three stanzas. A refrain concludes each unit; the refrain acts as a kind of capstone, summarizing the significance of the given day, and also brings the remote past into the present tense through its invitation to the community to participate in the recitation of the word “qadosh” (“O Holy One”). What makes Zevadiah’s piyyut appealing is the way it expands and amplifies the majestic hymn already present in Gen 1. In some instances, the poet inclines towards esoteric speculation while in others he generates a sense of liturgical rhapsody—an emphasis largely determined by the characteristics of what is being created on a given day. For example, in the opening section of the piyyut, Zevadiah addresses the mysterious process of creation’s earliest stages; the first three stanzas of the yotzer, along with the first refrain, state: Let me glorify the name of the King among the company of His choirs I will reflect upon that which preceded its [Creation’s] enactment by two thousand (years) A transition to the theme of the blessing is a halakhic requirement in the statutory liturgy; see Ruth Langer, To Worship God Properly (Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 1998), 26–27. 18

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In order to retell thereby a fraction of His awesome works With understanding He stretched forth seven firmaments, to establish (them)19 And the seventh He called Aravot, and His chariot He set within it20 Nine hundred and thirteen firmaments were arranged before Him, according to the reckoning of “bereshit”21 He delineated seven lands in parallel (to them) on the day when He created it (Earth) The one bound to the other, measured into thirds 22 And all of them hanging upon the arm of the King in (His) might23 This seven-fold splendor He made appear on the first day The music of His song, thus, the Levites intone sweetly in awe “The Lord’s is the earth and all its fullness” (Ps 24:1)—O Holy One!

In these opening stanzas, the poet speaks of a primordial moment on the cusp of actual creation, more blueprint or vision than construction: seven supernal heights mirrored by seven levels of earth. The names of the seven heavens, to which the poet alludes, are well established in Rabbinic tradition, although the symmetrical, parallel teaching about the seven levels of earth—so attractive from the perspective of poetic symmetry—appears to be slightly later

See Prov 3:19. See Ps 68:5. 21 That is, the value of “bereshit” (“in the beginning”) according to gematria is 913. 22 That is, one third of the surface of the Earth was apportioned to be desert, one third to inhabitable land, and one third to sea. 23 David, The Poems of Zevadiah, notes the sources for this tradition, including Midrash haGadol Bereshit, p. 18, and Seder Rabbah de-Bereshit, p. 30 (not, we should note, more “mainstream” midrashim); and he notes a variant tradition in which only the seventh heaven is suspended from God’s arm. 19 20

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and is generally less common and less systematically developed.24 The poet indicates the importance of the events of Day One in the first stanza of the piyyut, where he writes: “I will reflect upon that which preceded its [Creation’s] enactment by two thousand (years)”—that is, he will narrate what God had in mind two thousand years prior to Gen 1 as well as the more familiar events that biblical chapter recounts. In these stanzas, Zevadiah echoes Rabbinic tradition about the pre-existent Torah, but without using the word, “Torah”—instead, it is evoked through quotation.25 According to the poet, the first word of the Torah, “bereshit,” hints at the creation of a far more elaborate structure of reality, comprised not of fourteen levels but of nine hundred and thirteen levels. And all of this, literally, “hangs upon [God’s] arm,” providing a vivid image of creation’s utter dependence on the divine.26 The atmosphere of mysterium is tangible here as the poem opens and it will return at the end of the piyyut with the recitation of the mystically-charged Qedushah. In these opening stanzas the poet creates a sense of wonder so that the Qedushah becomes a rapturous response to all that preceded it.27 For the names of the seven heavens, see b. Ḥag. 12b, Lev. Rab. 29:11. Lev. Rab. 29:11 likewise lists seven names for earth, but Gen Rab. 13:12 describes the earth as having four names, not seven. See also Est Rab. 1:12 (parallel in Cant Rab. 6:15) which discusses whether there are six or seven levels of heaven and earth. 25 For the pre-existent Torah and the idea that the Torah functioned as the “blueprint” of creation, see Gen Rab. 1:1, 8:1, Lev Rab. 9:1, Cant Rab. 5:10. 26 In the Zohar (Shemot II, 108b), all of creation is said to hang from one of Leviathan’s fins. 27 To some extent, this material echoes the mystical traditions of ma’aseh bereshit and ma’aseh merkavah; but more substantially, they recall the teachings in later midrashim such as Pirqe R. El. 1. For a treatment of Rabbinic mysticism in the context of prayer, see Michael Swartz, Mystical Prayer in Ancient Judaism (Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, 1992). Furthermore, while this poem does not consistently engage with mystical traditions, the Apulian poets, like the later darshanim, did often address topics that were treated more cryptically in earlier sources; see Ophir Münz-Manor, 24

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While the passage quoted above might suggest that Zevadiah’s interests are highly esoteric, these stanzas recall teachings recorded in “exoteric” aggadah, such as Gen. Rab. 3:4: “Then God said, Let there be light…’” (Gen 1:3). Rabbi Simeon b. Rabbi Yehozadak asked Rabbi Samuel b. Nahman: “I have heard that you are a master of aggadah; tell me, from whence was the light was created?” He replied: “The Holy One, blessed be He, wrapped Himself therein as in a robe and shone with the splendor of His majesty upon the whole world from one end to the other.” Now he had answered him in a whisper, whereupon he observed, “There is a verse which states it explicitly: ‘Covering Yourself with light as with a cloak’ (Ps 104:2), yet you say it in a whisper!” “Just as I heard it in a whisper, so have I told it to you in a whisper,” he rejoined. Rabbi Berekhiah remarked: “If Rabbi Isaac had not taught it, we could not have said it!”28

Zevadiah, like the Rabbinic exegete, participates in a popular fascination with this sense of mysteriousness, which is similar to but not identical with esoteric mystical traditions. Rather than seeing Zevadiah as a particularly “mystical” poet—here he touches on terms which may evoke Heikhalot traditions but he does not do so in a sustained or substantial way—it makes sense to understand him as hewing closely to the agenda laid out in the opening stanza: to delineate the story of creation from its earliest moments in order to generate a sense of wonder in his listeners. The rest of Zevadiah’s yotzer maintains this interest in the “details” of creation and a sense of ad hoc responsiveness to the biblical narrative—at times, the poet inclines towards the esoteric while at other times he is strikingly mundane. A quick summary

“Wings of Change: Angels in Palestinian and Italian Piyyut,” Proceedings of the Ninth Congress of the European Association for Jewish Studies (Ravenna, Italy), July 25–29, 2010 (forthcoming). 28 Similar traditions appear in other locations, as well, such as Pesiq. Rab Kah. 21:5, Pirqe R. El. 1, and Tanḥ. (Buber) Bereshit 10 and Tanḥ. Vayakel 6 (=Tanḥ. (Buber) Vayakel 7).

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makes the texture of this poem’s narrative evident.29 The second set of stanzas (stanzas four through six) details Day Two, focusing on the creation of the angels and the heavenly realm. This day also witnesses the creation of Gehenna, just as we find in Gen Rab. 6:6 (because this day is not described as “good”) as well as angels of fear and terror who are stationed in that fiery realm. Day Three describes the creation and delimitation of the waters as well as the formation of dry land, which leads to a description of the paradisiacal Garden (with lush fruit trees) created as a location for the eschatological banquet for the righteous in the World-toCome—a merging of “ur-zeit” and “end-zeit.”30 On Day Four, the poet describes the creation of the Sun from fire and the moon from snow, which echoes the creation of the angelic inhabitants of the heavens. He also describes how the Sun was fashioned “in the form of a man” (‫ )וצורת אדם רקמו‬and has three letters from the divine name within its heart (lines 37–39)31; and he dwells on the creation of the stars and constellations. On Day Five, he emphasizes how God made the great sky and sea creatures, although kosher insects merit a full stanza of their own. In particular, Zevadiah singles out the magnificent bird, Ziz (emblematic of flying creatures), who—along with Leviathan and his mate (archetypal sea creatures)—is destined to be consumed by the righteous at their future banquet. Maintaining this combined practical and eschatological focus, Day Six describes the creation both of kosher animals as well as that of Behemoth, the great landbeast who, with his mate, is destined to become the beef course at the end-time banquet.32 In the third stanza for Day Six the poet This summary does not include discussion or annotation of intertextuality; for such notes, see the translation of Zevadiah’s piyyut appearing in Appendix A at the end of this article. Overall, Zevadiah displays a particular affinity for Pirqe R. El. 30 Or, to paraphrase the opening of Amittai’s poem, an example of how God planned the end-time events from the very beginning. 31 See Pirqe R. El. 1:6; in his notes, David, The Poems of Zevadiah, cites the Zohar, which seems somewhat remote from the present text. 32 This trope of the battle between Behemoth and Leviathan is rooted in Job 40, but developed into the eschatological banquet in Rabbinic 29

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also briefly describes the creation of the first man (unfortunately, the first line of the stanza is missing). In line 67, Adam is described as majestically tall and radiant, a common trope in aggadic tradition; and in line 68, he is paired off and blessed. The next three stanzas lead up to the Sabbath (lines 72–80) and contain a brief narrative in which the created order begins to sing Adam’s praise, mistaking him for the deity in whose image he was made.33 Adam chastises them for their error and leads them in praise of their Maker instead (the recitation of Ps 104:24, “How great are Your works, O Lord”).34 The final three stanzas of the piyyut focus on the rules and rewards for keeping the Sabbath.35 The narrative arc of this piyyut hews closely to Gen 1, not only in its day-by-day itinerary of creation but its relatively minimal depiction of the creation of humanity; it goes no further into Genesis than Gen 2:3. The aggadic expansion toward the end of the piece, in which Adam is mistaken for God, is itself rooted in Gen 1: 27, where “the man” (‫ )האדם‬is made in God’s image. The poet resolutely avoids the problematic events of Gen 2–3, particularly any hint of transgression or punishment; Adam is a model of piety and there is no mention of expulsion from the garden or the diminution of his splendor. Instead, Zevadiah segues seamlessly from Eden to the eschaton, addressing the “present tense” only in the final stanzas which describe the practical observance of the Sabbath. Perhaps the greatest departure from the biblical text of Gen 1 is that the piyyut concludes with creation praising God rather than God blessing creation. By doing this, Zevadiah intensifies the “liturgical reciprocity” of his piece, already present through the inclusion of the “Psalm of the Day” and literature. The locus classicus in Rabbinic literature is b. B. Bat. 74b. See Michael Fishbane, The Exegetical Imagination (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), 41–55. 33 See Pirqe R. El. 11. 34 This “mistaken identity” appears in midrashic sources, as well; see Tanḥ. Pekudei 3, as well as a briefer variant in Gen Rab. 8:10. 35 Zevadiah uses the word “building” in l. 84 to refer to all of God’s creative works, although elsewhere (as in the midrashim quoted above) the word is an invitation to speak of Eve.

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anticipation of the qedushah in the refrain. The prayerfulness of creation and the emphasis on Sabbath observance that conclude the poem draw the audience, already involved through the refrain (and Sabbath worship), into the narrative of the work: they, like the newly-created world in the piyyut, have come together to pray and offer praise in observance of the day of rest. The communal recitations of “qadosh” in each refrain anticipate this liturgical climax: a hymn that culminates in rhapsodic praise was punctuated by the practice of praise all along. Beyond the fleeting reference to Adam’s finding a mate and God blessing the union (all conveyed by “He paired him up and blessed him” in line 68), there are no motifs or themes that are specifically marital in this poem. It is context more than content that makes this hymn of creation a nuptial piyyut, and were it not for the heading in the manuscript which labels this piyyut a yotzer leḥatan, as well as later tradition which so closely links creation to weddings, we might not intuitively classify this piyyut as a marriage hymn.36 That said, there are elements here—the repeated references to the banquet, which suggests a wedding feast; and the references to both Leviathan and Behemoth as having mates; and the fact that the verbs associated with creation here emphasize “adorn,” “mingle,” and terms for reproduction—that become suggestive when this poem is read in the nuptial context. In the compressed amount of space afforded to any given day of creation by this poem’s structure, such evocative elements acquire some extra significance. Overall, however, it is by implication, not articulation, that marriage is framed as an endeavor which is both creative and a part of the divine plan.

AMITTAI’S YOTZER LE-ḤATAN: If Zevadiah downplays marriage in his yotzer le-ḥatan, to the point of not directly mentioning a bride, Amittai makes up for it—perhaps It is possible that this piyyut was originally simply a Sabbath yotzer, or a yotzer specifically for the first Torah portion of Genesis, only subsequently “repurposed” for a wedding, but we have no evidence to that effect. 36

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because his yotzer le-ḥatan was composed specifically for the wedding of his sister, Cassia.37 Still, while the emphasis in Amittai’s poem differs substantially from that of the slightly earlier poet, like Zevadiah, his piyyut works its way through creation day-by-day. The genius of Amittai’s yotzer as a yotzer le-ḥatan is the absolute consistency with which he develops the wedding imagery: each day of creation becomes a specific moment in the wedding preparations, and God’s actions in the opening chapter of Genesis become those of the first, and most powerful, wedding planner. Where Zevadiah inclined towards hymnic description, Amittai vividly narrates the hustle and bustle of mundane wedding events. So rich is Amittai’s piyyut with allusions to the real marriage customs of ninth century Italy that Robert Bonfil refers to it as “a virtual reproduction of the real ceremony actually attended by the entire community.”38 In addition to the wealth of detail this work offers about marriage customs, this poem stands out because it offers a unique and innovative midrash on one of the most wellknown biblical episodes. Where Zevadiah devoted three stanzas to each day of creation, Amittai moves through Gen 1 much more quickly: each of the first five days is treated in a single stanza. Furthermore, Amittai explicitly articulates the paradigmatic, programmatic nature of “the first wedding” in the second stanza of his piyyut; there is no ambiguity whatsoever about the exegetical conceit or life-setting of this poem. After an initial stanza which describes God, in general terms, as a careful planner, the poet writes, “Before He created them [Adam and Eve], He readied all the provisions / to teach the ceremonies of the wedding chamber to their children’s children.”39 Each subsequent stanza describes how the order of creation

Megillat Ahi a’atz describes Cassia’s wedding, and specifically names this piyyut, in §35. A translation of Amittai’s yotzer le-ḥatan appears in Appendix B of this article. 38 Robert Bonfil, History and Folkore in a Medieval Jewish Chronicle: The Family Chronicle of Ahima’az ben Paltiel (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 140. 39 Page 60, lines 9–10. Line references are to the Klar edition of Megillat Ahima’atz. 37

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culminates in the nuptials (including the wedding feast) of the first couple. In Amittai’s retelling of Gen 1, Day One of creation becomes the day when the marriage chamber (ḥuppah) is framed and lights are arranged to shine upon the banquet that will follow the ceremony. The image of Eden as a marriage chamber may be rooted in the pun on ‫גינון‬-‫( גן‬garden-marriage chamber) that we also find in midrashic sources, although in this stanza the more common term “ḥuppah” is used.40 In the midrashic sources, however, such as Cant Rab. 5:1, the primordial garden-marriage chamber (identified as the Garden of Eden, the Tabernacle, or the Temple, all patterned one on the other) is for God and Israel (or God and humanity), while in this piyyut it is wholly mortal (if still grand) in scale: it is for Adam and Eve alone. On Day Two, God continues his work on behalf of the as-yet-uncreated couple. He adds an upper storey (Heaven) to the ḥuppah, creates the angelic groomsmen, and stokes a furnace for those who will, He anticipates, engage in adultery. It is worth noting how Amittai describes Gehenna in specifically marital terms (adultery) rather than the general terms used in Zevadiah’s piyyut—even the creation of Hell is colored by the marital context. On the third day, in order to create a garden-stage for the ceremony, God clears away the waters and then brings forth trees, forming a lovely garden setting for the nuptials. Day Four sees the creation of torch-like lamps (the Sun and Moon), inextinguishable by foul weather, and spangled stars, all to adorn the wedding chamber. On the fifth day, God creates the fish and birds for the banquet—although (as in midrashic tradition and in the Zevadiah piyyut, too) He hides away Ziz and Leviathan for the end-time feast. And on the sixth day, He creates land animals to serve as the meat course (again, hiding Behemoth away for later use). These five days’ worth of preparations complete, God realizes that the only thing lacking from His wedding party are the groom and bride. So, in the tenth stanza (about halfway through the poem), God creates Adam. Like Zevadiah, Amittai recounts the first human’s splendor, but unlike his predecessor he also hints at 40

See n. 9, above.

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his future reduction—in both majesty and stature41—changes resulting from his sin in Gen 3 (a topic Zevadiah leaves out entirely). Angelic groomsmen greet Adam and lead him through twelve jeweled bridal chambers. Within the final chamber—which was, in antiquity, not a “canopy” as it is today, but was rather the room where the marriage was consummated—God causes Adam to fall asleep on the bridal bed. Next, as in Gen 2, God takes a rib from the sleeping groom and, in some separate location, “dressed it up like a maiden, bathed her, anointed and adorned her and plaited her hair.”42 Eve, her bridal toilette now complete, is led by myriads of singing angels to her groom. Adam wakes up and finds her lovely, and God blesses the couple. The bride, groom, and guests then enjoy a banquet—but, alas, the bride and groom cannot resist tasting the one dish God had asked them to decline. The celebration, in the best of Hollywood tradition, has become a crisis. But the poet is not daunted. First, the Sabbath intervenes with God to spare their lives, and then God transforms tragedy into promise.43 While the sin of Adam and Eve results in their becoming mortal, Amittai links mortality to the blessing of being fruitful and multiplying. This procreative imperative he then ties to the very ritual he celebrates, as he writes: A limit was set to their time and the end of their lifespan (lit., ‘time’) arrived Ever since then, even until today, their offspring are fated To be fruitful and multiply, and at the end of their time, to die.

The idea that Adam was physically diminished by sin is a commonplace in midrash; see Num. Rab 13:2, b. Ḥag. 12a. 42 Page 61, lines 23–24. Line references are to the Klar edition of Megillat Ahima’atz. 43 Amittai, like Zevadiah, alludes to Ps 92, the psalm for the Sabbath day, but where Zevadiah cited the psalm in a straightforward sense of hymnic praise, Amittai alludes to the aggadic tradition that the Sabbath itself interceded in God’s judgment of Adam, which is what led him to recite Psalm 92. See Eccl Rab. 1:3 as well as Midr. Ps 92, as well as the variant in Lev Rab. 10:5. 41

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In short, Amittai transforms the tragedy of Gen 3 into an occasion for joy, and the crisis in the creation story becomes an opportunity for humans to become God’s agents of creation through the ongoing creation of new family units and new family members. The refrain of the piyyut, in anticipation of this conclusion, refers not to the primal creation narrative of Gen 1 but instead to the ongoing procreative miracles of human existence, as blessed by God. As was the case with Zevadiah’s, the final stanzas of Amittai’s poem are firmly in the present tense and explicitly speak to the contemporary congregation. Describing the actions of the community as one drawing near to God in pious celebration, the poet articulates both national hopes for redemption—in language reminiscent of the Sheva Berakhot—and his hopes for the couple.45 The community recites the Sheheḥiyanu and, as the piyyut concludes, the poet asks God to grant His loved ones “a happy ending”—not for their own sake, but so that they can declare God’s unity—that is, recite the Shema—forever. Page 62, lines 10–15. Line references are to the Klar edition of Megillat Ahi a’atz. This passage contains what is apparently the first concrete reference to the use of a specifically-designated “wedding ring” in Jewish custom; see my article, “The Le-Hatan Piyyutim of Qallir and Amittai”. 45 Amittai does not skew towards the raucous or bawdy in this piyyut, and in another wedding piyyut—lines 50–52 of his qedushta le-ḥatan— Amittai specifically regards such things as “the rule of the gentiles” (‫)תורת גויים‬. For the text of this piyyut, see Yonah David, The Poems of Amittai (Jerusalem: Akhshav, 1975), 12; and Klar, The Chronicle of Ahimaatz, 88 (where the stanza is lines 13–15). That said, the enthusiasm with which Amittai anticipates his sister’s fertility, and the emphasis on joy in the wedding piyyutim, creates a contrast with the more solemn tone of most of the piyyut. 44

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ANALYSIS AND CONCLUSION Of the two piyyutim presented here, Amittai’s draws more overtly on the aggadic traditions about the first wedding discussed above: e.g., the motifs of angels as attendants, the depictions of jeweled wedding chambers, and the reference to plaiting Eve’s hair, especially. But the structure of Zevadiah’s poem—both its specific form and its conceit of moving through the creation narrative dayby-day in the context of a wedding—suggests that Zevadiah’s poem may have inspired Amittai as much as the midrashim. These two piyyutim, in the end, have much in common, most particularly their use of the creation story as a narrative conceit for a wedding hymn. To be sure, this trope significantly predates our Byzantine poets, but what is so fascinating is how each poet incorporates elements of earlier tradition into creative new compositions. Zevadiah’s yotzer le-ḥatan extends and develops the stately, hymn-like, priestly creation account of Gen 1. Zevadiah’s piyyut is, so to speak, a meta-liturgy—a piyyut embellishing a biblical passage that seems liturgical in its own right. As a result of this focus, marriage itself is mentioned only fleetingly (l. 68); it is simply part of the natural order, not uniquely important. The poet’s focus is on the wonder of God’s actions—as the poet tells us, he writes “in order to recount a few of [God’s] awesome works” (l. 3). The poem culminates not in marriage but the Sabbath. When Zevadiah speaks of creation, he means “the” creation—the formative narration of Gen 1. Only by implication does Zevadiah suggest that weddings are also a moment of creation—an association generated by context rather than content. For Zevadiah, marriage becomes one of many magnificent divine inventions, and the piyyut serves to orient the couple, and the community, towards observance and praise in gratitude for the ongoing acts of creation. Amittai, by contrast, subordinates the entire creation story to the mundane hubbub of familiar wedding rituals and, more importantly, to the creative potential of the new couple, both Adam and Eve and (by implied extension) Cassia and her groom. The scale of Amittai’s piyyut is no less cosmic than Zevadiah’s and

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the two payyetanim share a number of aggadic motifs in common,46 but the proportions could not be more different. Furthermore, where Zevadiah kept his focus exclusively on the opening chapter of Genesis, Amittai takes his listeners into—and through—the dramatic events of Gen 3. Ultimately, Amittai’s poem is about two creation stories: the cosmic creation of Genesis and the more modest, but no less miraculous, creation of a new domestic unit, and through that unit, children. All acts of creation depend on the Creator. But Zevadiah, too, extends “creation” into the present tense, although more subtly: the weekly cycle of time, culminating in the Sabbath, creates a constant “creation awareness,” which his poem celebrates. Both poems are fundamentally about creation, and both works treat marriage in the context of God’s role as Creator. And most importantly, given the comparatively generous canvas of the piyyut—ninety-five lines for Zevadiah and sixty-nine for Amittai— the poets have time to develop this trope in unique ways. While each poem is rich with allusions, each stands alone as a narrative. Furthermore, when considering these piyyutim, we have to recall their setting: not the house of study, but the synagogue, most likely the Sabbath immediately following a wedding. These works are thus tied to specific events, particular moments, in a concrete way; we are certain of this with the piyyut by Amittai, composed as it was for his sister, but even a more “generic” piyyut would acquire that kind of specificity when performed in the context of a particular wedding. In both, multiple liturgical settings (the Yotzer prayer and Shabbat worship more generally, as well as the wedding) are specifically invoked. Both poems refer explicitly to the idea of communal prayer in highly self-referential ways. Zevadiah does this through the structural device of the “Psalm of the Day,” the references to Sabbath-keeping rituals and prayer, and most importantly through the participatory recitation of qadosh, which concludes every refrain. Amittai, taking a somewhat different tack, provides a poem that is rich with references to familiar marriage E.g., the creation of angels and Gehenna on the second day; the creation of Ziv, Leviathan, and Behemoth on Days Five and Six, as well as the idea that they will be stored away until the End Time banquet. 46

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customs and, even more striking, his inclusion of communal response language from the liturgy, including not only the repetition of qadosh in each refrain, but also allusions to the Sheva Berakhot and other elements of the wedding liturgy, as well as the Shabbat prayers. In both cases, the community is actively integrated into the poem, and thus in both cases “exegesis” takes on experiential qualities. Narrated myth becomes memory. And thus events from the dimmest, most remote period of time—the dawn of time—become snapshots in the family wedding album, and all the community can not only gain insight into the contours of primordial events, but a sense of, “We were there.” And every Shabbat, ‫“( זכר למעשה בראשית‬a memorial to the act of creation,” Exod Rab. 19:7), becomes an anniversary.

APPENDIX A: ZEVADIAH’S YOTZER LE-ḤATAN47 Let me glorify the name of the King among the company of His choirs I will reflect upon that which preceded its [Creation’s] enactment by two thousand (years)48 In order to retell thereby a fraction of His awesome works With understanding He stretched forth seven firmaments, to establish (them)49 And the seventh He called Aravot, and His chariot He set within it50 Nine hundred and thirteen firmaments were arranged before Him, according to the reckoning of “bereshit”51

Hebrew text can be found in: David, The Poems of Zevadiah, 53–60. I corrected the text, as necessary, with the version in the Ma’agari database. The heading, “yotzer le-ḥatan by R. Zevadiah,” appears in the MS. 48 See Pirqe R. El. 1, which states: “Seven things were created before the world was created. These are: The Torah, Gehenna, the garden of Eden, the Throne of Glory, the Temple, Repentance, and the Name of the Messiah.” 49 See Prov 3:19. 50 See Ps 68:5. 47

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LAURA LIEBER He delineated seven lands in parallel (to them) on the day when He created it (Earth) The one bound to the other, measured into thirds52 And all of them hanging upon the arm of the King in (His) might This seven-fold splendor He made manifest on the first day The music of His song, thus, the Levites intone sweetly in awe “The Lord’s is the earth and all its fullness” (Ps 24:1)—O Holy One! He joined that which burns with that which extinguishes; together they are mixed53 A firmament He set among them, making a separation between the (waters) measured out54 He finished it: its length is five hundred (years) and likewise its width and its breadth He adorned hosts without number Also He named them and their colors were those of coals From fear of the King they tremble and feel faint

That is, the value of “bereshit” (“in the beginning”) according to gematria is 913. 52 That is, the earth mirrors the heavens; one third of the surface of the Earth was apportioned to be desert, one third to inhabitable land, and one third to sea. 53 See b. Ḥag. 12a, “What does ‘heaven’ (shamayim) mean? Rabbi Yose b. Hanina said: It means, ‘There is water’ (i.e., she-mayim). In a Baraitha it is taught: [It means], ‘fire and water’ (i.e., esh-mayim) this teaches that the Holy One, blessed be He, brought them and mixed them one with the other and made from them the firmament.” This line could also be a reference to the creation of the angels from fire and snow, an act of mixture only the deity could achive; see Mek. Beshallaḥ 12, Gen Rab. 10:3, Exod Rab. 3:11, Deut. Rab. 5:12, Cant Rab. 3:24, Tanḥ. (Buber) Bereshit 33, Tanḥ. (Buber) Re’eh 10, Tanḥ. Bereshit 12, Tanḥ. Terumah 11, y. Roš. Haš. 2:5. 54 Isa 40:12, “Who has measured out the waters in the hollow of His hand…” 51

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And He established a burning place of twofold judgment 55 And angels of fear and trembling He set there in array The sinners of the earth according to their deeds to be judged56 The King is among His hosts and He is praised And thus the song of the second day is mixed57 “Great is the Lord, and praised!” (Ps 48:2)—O Holy One! He appointed on the third day a splendid pool of water58 Its waves became proud and they strove to cover the earth When they came upon the limit (set by) the King, that they should not break through Dry land brought forth grasses and trees Some of them for food and some of them to give forth delightful scents And some of them for shade and some of them for the preparation of medicine59 That which they bear will endure for thirty thousand years Seven houses upon seven gates repaired Isa 30:33; taken here as a reference to the creation of Gehenna. “Twofold” refers both to the fact that it was created on the second day and also to the intense nature of punishments inflicted there. 56 According to Amittai’s yotzer, it is established to punish adulterers (a wedding-specific theme). Zevadiah does not specify the sin which God had in mind when He created Gehenna. 57 Perhaps a reference to singing in harmony or to many voices joining together; this, with the reference to “choirs” in the opening lines, is suggestive of performative elements of the piyyut. 58 I.e., the sea. This stanza contains echoes the ancient motif of God’s conquest of the sea, as in Job 38:8–11, which is fully developed in Rabbinic sources. See Michael Fishbane, Biblical Myth and Rabbinic Mythmaking (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 112–130. 59 The word for “medicine” (‫ )תרופה‬appears in Ezek 47:12, which appears as an intertext for Cant 4:13 (“a garden of pomegranates”) in Cant Rab. to the verse. 55

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LAURA LIEBER The righteous according to their honor prepared 60 Those who delve into the Law find their pleasure there in the presence of God And thus the song of the third day intones Israel “God stands in the divine assembly” (Ps 82:1)—O Holy One! His right hand He filled with fire and (in) the form of a man He fashioned it61 Inscribed upon his heart were three letters from His name 62 And He called him “he who serves” and to service during the day He limited him His palm He filled with snow and He formed the moon to rule over the night And He created sufficient heavenly bodies and planets and constellations of stars And seven planets serve the twelve constellations For every single month, all of the twelve constellations serve And the Pleiades among them but not of them The tail of the Ram and the crown of the Ox—they go between the two of them63

This stanza refers to the fruits which will be served to the righteous at their banquet in the messianic era. 61 This description of the sun in the form of a person is striking; it may reflect a development of the analogy of the imagery in Ps 19:6, which compares the sun to “a bridegroom leaving his chamber, and rejoices like a strong man when he runs a race.” Similarly anthropomorphic imagery colors the depiction of the sun in Pirqe R. El. 6, although the midrash is not quite as explicit as Zevadiah. 62 Pirqe R. El. 6 notes, “The sun has three letters of the Name written upon its heart.” 63 That is, the Pleiades occupy the space between Aries (the Ram) and Taurus (the Ox). 60

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He appointed the two of them to rule but not to lead the nations astray He will shame those who worship (them) with humiliations and disgrace Therefore the song of the fourth day is “Go [to who ] engeance belongs” (Ps 94:1)—O Holy One! From the waters He made swarm (fish) and let loose those which fly64 Pure with crop and craw, they are permitted And those which swim with fins and scales are permitted And also those with four legs according to their kind are among the permitted65 To multiply every species that has jointed legs for leaping And Shaddai prepared Ziz for those who keep (the laws of) prohibited and permitted He arrayed Leviathan with his mate for the end-time66 And when they would have mated, He castrated the male and killed the female67 This section of the piyyut describes the creation of fish, birds, and kosher insects; see Pirqe R. El. 9, which opens with this same classification system (birds, fish, locusts). 65 This seems to be a reference to those species of locusts, crickets and grasshoppers which are kosher; see Lev 11:21. According to biblical understandings of insect anatomy, it seems, these species were understood as having only four true legs (i.e., legs used for walking), with the other two used for jumping. 66 The motif of Leviathan (and Behemoth) as the “entrees” for the eschatological banquet is widespread. See Michael Fishbane, “The Great Dragon Battle and Talmudic Redaction,” in The Exegetical Imagination (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), 41–55. Of particular interest to the present material is the section of the Tisha b’Av qerova by Eleazar beRabbi Qallir which depicts a ferocious battle between the two beasts (derived from Job 40–41) as the entertainment for the righteous at their banquet; the text of the relevant section appears, with English translation, in T. Carmi, The Penguin Book of Hebrew Verse (New York: Penguin, 1981), 227–32. 64

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LAURA LIEBER And He salted her for the righteous in the time to come Thus because on the fifth day He readied creatures praised by His name68 The splendor of His song thus intoning, with longing: “Sing alou to Go ” (Ps 81:1)—O Holy One!69 On the sixth (day), He arranged creeping things and cattle and beasts And ten of them He declared fit for those who meditate upon Wisdom70 And three for offering up as sacrifices71 He said to arrange (it) for the nation that has faith in Him 72 In his loins (is his strength) and his might is in the muscles of his belly73 The female He cooled, and as for the male, He castrated his ‘source’.

See b. B. Bat. 74b. See Gen Rab. 12:1, “Rabbi Isaac b. Merion said: It is written, ‘These are the generations of the heavens’ (Gen 2:4): when their Creator praises them, who may disparage them? When their Creator lauds them, who may find fault with them? Rather, they are comely and praiseworthy; hence it is written, ‘These are the generations of heaven’ (Gen 2:4).” 69 Stichometry and interpretation here follows Ma’agari . In David’s edition, the final two lines would read, “The splendor of His song thus intoning / A nation (‘am instead of ‘im) yearning, ‘Sing aloud to God’— O Holy One!” 70 I.e, those who study the Torah, but here meaning the Jews more generally. 71 Bulls, sheep, and goats are all suitable for the olah offering. 72 I.e., to make banquet preparations. 73 A description of Behemoth is in Job 40:17. According to Rabbinic exegesis, the first half of the verse describes the male beast while the second half of the verse describes his mate—thus Behemoth is actually two creatures, parallel to Leviathan and its mate. See b. B. Bat. 74b. (Most aggadic sources depict a singular Behemoth, rather than the doubled creature depicted here and in the Talmudic passage.) 67 68

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… Like the sun was his splendor and as high as the heavens his stature74 And He paired him up and blessed him His creations were strong, to have dominion and to conquer75 His desire fulfilled, the King clothed (him) in splendor Thus, sing: “The Lor reigns; He clothes in splen or” (Ps 93:1)76—O Holy One! (As for the) King, His creations were created for (the fulfillment) of His will77 And they gazed, seeing the face of the King in His likeness78 They were confounded79 and assembled to recount his praises80

The topic here switches abruptly to Adam; the first line of the stanza is missing. 75 See Gen 1:28. 76 Usually, this phrase is translated, “The Lord reigns; He is clothed in splendor!” but my translation reflects the sense of the line which precedes it. 77 The language of the line is difficult, but the sense is clearly along the lines of “Everything which God created during the six days of creation was created for His glory and for the fulfillment of His will” (Exod Rab. 17:1). 78 That is, they noted the resemblance between God and Adam. 79 Reading ‫ נבהלו‬with Ma’agari (against David, The Poems of Zevadiah, ‫)נכהלו‬. 80 This motif appears in Pirqe R. El. 11, as well: “All the creatures saw him and became afraid of him, thinking that he was their Creator, and they came to prostrate themselves before him. Adam said to them, ‘What, you creatures! Why do you come to prostrate yourselves before me? Come, I and you, let us go and adorn in majesty and might, and acclaim as King over us the one who created us!” In this text, however, Adam leads the creatures in the recitation of Ps 93, the psalm for the sixth day. See, too, Eccl Rab. 6:9, where it is the angels who mistake Adam for God—but 74

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LAURA LIEBER The created one81 trembled, “What cause have you to sing before me?” “I and you—we shall sing to the King with musical instruments!” At once he opened and said, “How great are Your works, O Lor !” (Ps 104:24) He heard them all (singing) after him with their utterances And they gave thanks to their Maker and Sustainer “How great are Your works, O Lor ! With wisdom You have made e er thing”82 The refinement of His works He finished and on the seventh (day) He rested Therefore those who are protected like the apple of (His) eye proclaim: “Sing to the Lor ” (Ps 96:1)83 “A psal , a song for the Sabbath a ” (Ps 92:1)—O Holy One! The Mighty One rested on the seventh (day) and sanctified it when He finished His building And He made the praise of His house 84 a double-portion of one’s bread Its song and its punishment and its warning (are all doubled)85 Two categories which pertain to the four kinds of transport (on the Sabbath)86

in that version, God intervenes and corrects the misapprehension by creating woman. 81 I.e., Adam. 82 Zevadiah has altered the word order in Ps 104:24 to suit his rhymescheme. 83 Those who are “the apple of His eye” (here ]‫בבת [עין‬, as in Zech 2:12, rather than ‫ )אישון עין‬are Israel, as in Deut 32:10. The word order of this stanza is quite irregular, due to the formal constraints of the stanza. 84 As David notes, the first Sabbath (with the double portion of bread) functions as a kind of “ḥanukkat habayit” (house dedication) of the world. 85 David cites Mid. Ps 92:1 for this tradition of doubling things, positive and negative, on the Sabbath.

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And a thousand-and-four (cubits) which constitute the boundaries one may walk As was explicated: “Let no man go forth from his place and let every man remain in his place” (Ex 16:29)87 It is undergird by forty-minus-one categories upon categories88 Hinted at in “these are the words” (Ex 35:1) and explained in the halakhot And all of them taught from the building of the Tabernacle89 The splendor of “Remember” and “Keep” to the nation that was created He hinted at it in the six (days) of His labor that were created And on the seventh, “He reste fro all His labors which He create ” (Gen 2:2)—O Holy One!

Lit., “goings-out”—the issue is a legal one involving eruvin, of what may be carried from private to public domains on the Sabbath. There are two kinds of eruvin and four kinds of carrying (which, without an eruv, are violations of the Sabbath). 87 The poet reverses the two biblical clauses; the verse, unmodified, reads: “Let every man remain in his place and let no man go forth from his place.” 88 That is, the thirty-nine prohibited categories of labor. 89 The thirty-nine categories of labor were derived from the forms of work done in the construction of the Tabernacle. See m. Šabb. 7 for the list of labors and b. Šabb. 49b for the connection to the Tabernacle. 86

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APPENDIX B: AMITTAI’S YOTZER-LE-ḤATAN90 The Lord, who told from the beginning what would come at the end of years And from ancient times prepared what had not yet been made, Says, “My design shall endure to the last generation.” When it came into His thoughts, then, to create the bridal couple First, He made all the necessary provisions In order to teach all the ceremonies of the bridal chamber to (their) children First, He framed and laid the beams for the (celestial) roof He did the joint-work and made the foundation for the marital bower91 And light to shine upon their banquet. [Refrain:] Of a truth, how awesome are Your works, O Awesome One! It is the rule that when (a person of) flesh and blood creates a form He manages nothing without seeing and studying (a pattern)

The Hebrew text upon which this translation is based can be found in Klar, The Chronicle of Ahima’az, 60–62. In a few instances (all noted), I corrected Klar’s version against that contained in the Ma’agarim database. A slightly different version of the Hebrew was published in David, The Poems of Amittay, 46–52. 91 As noted above (n. 9), implicit in the description of marriage chambers in Eden is the wordplay on “garden” (gan) and “marriage chamber” (ginnun)—the garden of Eden (gan eden) is also the marriage chamber of Eden (ginnun eden). In the midrashim, however, this pun is typically invoked in order to convey that the garden of Eden (and/or the Tabernacle-Temple) was the marriage chamber of God and humanity/Israel (e.g., Cant Rab. 5:1); here, it is the marriage chamber of the first human couple. 90

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(But You,) O Creator, create a form within a form 92—O Holy One! He joined, on the second day, a fine and lovely second storey93 And within it, He prepared groomsmen94 to clang cymbals and strike timbrels And He stoked the furnace to burn those who disturb the banquet95 On the third day, He gathered the waters, clearing a stage for the players He brought forth trees in their place, delicate and dainty96 A royal garden97 erecting within it for (their) bridal chambers (ginnunim)98 On the fourth day, He kindled two lamps to serve as torches 99 Which gusting wind and wet dew cannot extinguish100 And the rest101 were for the sake of beauty, to adorn the bridal canopy He summoned, on the fifth day, all kinds of birds and fish And He prepared from them a banquet for the elders to enjoy102 (And He created) Ziz and Leviathan, to bring forth 103 for the fellowship of the righteous104 I.e., the fetus within the womb. The firmament of heaven. 94 Angels, as in Pirqe R. El. 2. 95 That is, God created Gehenna for adulterers. See Lev Rab. 20:10. 96 This line describes the creation of Eden; see Gen Rab. 11:9, 12:5, 15:3, and 21:9. 97 See Est 1:5, 7:7. 98 See Cant Rab. on Cant 1:4, and notes 9, 88 above. 99 See Gen Rab. 3:1. 100 See Ezek 37:9. 101 That is, the stars. 102 This refers to the banquet that God will prepare for the righteous in the time to come. 103 Reading with Ma’agari . 92 93

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LAURA LIEBER He mustered on the sixth day all kinds of beasts and cattle More than sufficient provision to be made from them But Behemoth He hid away for the day of consolation 105 The Beneficent One gazed, and behold, all was lovely And the table was set with all kinds of feast-foods But as yet there was no groom or bride within the ḥuppah! He made the groom more resplendent than the globe of the sun106 He stretched his body from the footstool to the heights 107 Although afterwards, He would reduce his stature by a thousand cubits He set up twelve ḥuppahs (as) lodging— Of carnelian, topaz, gold, alabaster, and diamond— And the angels called to him, “Come in peace!”108 Then, in due time, He brought him to the precious bridal chamber He caused him to slumber deeply and He took one of his ribs and adorned it like a maiden He bathed her and anointed her and gave her cosmetics and braided her hair He entrusted her to thousands and myriads (of angels) to escort her with songs And all the attendants were standing, rows upon rows, And the sun and moon were dancing like maidens before them She found grace and favor in her husband’s presence And He, in his glory, blessed them with a perfect blessing 109

Lev Rab. 22:10. Reading with Ma’agari ; the reference is again to the eschatological banquet. 106 Lev Rab. 20:2. 107 I.e., from earth to heaven. 108 I.e., “Welcome!”—1 Sam 16:7. 109 The word “perfect” (‫ )מוכללה‬echoes the word “bride” (‫)כלה‬, suggesting a bridal blessing. 104 105

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And all responded, “May the groom rejoice with his bride!” 110 He (then) told the groomsmen to arrange the table bejeweled111 And all around it He set up benches and soft chairs (And He ordered them) to serve the meat and the pour the fresh wine While they were still within their marriage chamber, He imposed on them one legal ruling112 But they did not keep it, and they nearly went down to the Pit113 Were it not for “A Song for the day of rest”114 (Instead) their time was circumscribed and the end of their lifespans arrived And ever since them, such is fated for their offspring: To be fruitful and to multiply, and in then end to die The modest ones115 made these their customs for all generations: To make matches at the time of betrothal, to enact qiddushin by means of a ring, And at the time of their ḥuppah to rejoice with the joyfulness of grooms They approach You in their joy, those whom You carried since birth116 To celebrate in awe, and not in arrogance

Language from the Sheva Berakhot. Gen Rab. 8:15. 112 God commanded them not to eat of the Tree of Knowledge. 113 Pirqe R. El. 19. 114 That is, the Sabbath persuaded God not to send Adam and Eve to Gehenna, an act which led Adam to compose Ps 92 (“A Song for the Sabbath day”) in gratitude. See Mid. Ps to Ps 92:1. 115 Israel. 116 Isa 46:3, lit., “those whom You carried in/since the womb.” 110 111

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LAURA LIEBER And they conclude with their blessing, “May it be like this today in Jerusalem!”117 They seek mercy from You, O Awesome and Holy One To gather the dispersed and to sing a new song Rejoicing and delighting in the (re-)building of the Temple Praise and greatness to Your name, O This, my God 118 You who had shown mercy on this poor and despised generation119 And so we say, “…Who has given us life and sustained and brought us to this season”120 Always may You grant Your beloved ones a happy end 121 So that for generations they may unify Your name: 122 To sanctify You with trembling and fear, all of them (now) rising…

This phrase appears (in a different context) in Sof. 19:7 (see Machzor Vitry §527) and in a wedding context in Seder Rav Amram Gaon, ed. D. Goldschmidt (Jerusalem: Mosad HaRav Kook, 1971), 181–182. 118 Exod 15:2. 119 Isa 49:13. 120 A quotation from the Sheheḥiyanu prayer, which is not part of standard wedding liturgy. 121 Deut. 8:16. 122 That is, recite the Shema. See Gen Rab. 20:16. 117