Standing Up to Villains: b.Sanhedrin 73-75

We’re still running a few days ahead of the universal schedule given that I have a few days of solo parenting and soccer league chaperoning ahead of me, and I don’t want any of you to fall behind. I have to say, reading and fully understanding all the twists and turns in each and every talmud page is a lot of work, and it’s amply clear to me what keeps all those Ultra-Orthodox yeshiva bochers busy all day long. I also have newfound appreciation for Orthodox podcasters who deliver fifteen-minute daf commentaries. Listening to the podcasts is like watching paint dry–nay, like listening to paint dry–but the person pre-digests the page for you so you don’t have to and there is real intellectual labor that goes into the product. Our project, though, is different–we’re following the things that are interesting, educational, and relevant to fostering a culture of logic and debate, and setting aside things that are better off tucked away in the Sixth century where they belong. There’s a little bit of both in today’s portion, but on the upside, we’re finishing the Rebellious Son sugiyah today–our second full, completed sugiyah! I even have a sticker for you, but you’ll have to follow along till the end of the post.

In keeping with the Minority Report, karmic-preserving preemptive killing theme from yesterday, the mishna that the sages are commenting on specifies that there are a few criminals for whom we “do the favor” of killing them before they complete their crime, so that they die as (still) righteous people:

מַתְנִי׳ וְאֵלּוּ הֵן שֶׁמַּצִּילִין אוֹתָן בְּנַפְשָׁן: הָרוֹדֵף אַחַר חֲבֵירוֹ לְהׇרְגוֹ, וְאַחַר הַזָּכָר, וְאַחַר הַנַּעֲרָה הַמְאוֹרָסָה. אֲבָל הָרוֹדֵף אַחַר בְּהֵמָה, וְהַמְחַלֵּל אֶת הַשַּׁבָּת, וְעוֹבֵד עֲבוֹדָה זָרָה – אֵין מַצִּילִין אוֹתָן בְּנַפְשָׁן

You may kills those who pursue others to murder or rape them, but not for those who chase animals, violate the Sabbath, or worship idols. But why? I’m not entirely clear whether the gemara is invested in the “defense of others” affirmative defense, which allows you to kill A to save B from death or from rape, or whether this is another iteration of the preemptive karma-saving principle from b.Sanhedrin 72, where you kill A preemptively to save his soul from dying a killer or a rapist. Either way, the example the sages give is what you would do for a friend who is drowning, dragged by an animal, or mugged by criminals; there’s an obligation to rescue in such situations; this is the precursor to the Good Samaritan story, if you will, and to many Good Samaritan laws in modern jurisdictions.

If we buy the straightforward idea that the permission to kill is in order to save the victim, that explains why the gemara requires the rescuer to even hire help to do the rescuing. But that doesn’t explain why, in the next verse, someone proposes that the permission to kill is not given when rescuing, say, a widow from a High Priest (which is not a mortal sin but a mere prohibition). Is it because the latter scenario is not a threat to the widow? Or is it because the High Priest’s soul doesn’t need karmic saving by killing? In any case, you’ll be relieved to know that the sages specify that you must rescue from rape not only men, but also women (lest you think, they helpfully explain, that raping women is “the natural way” and thus not a dire victimization scenario. Ugh.) You’d think that, given that the rescue obligation exists with regard to both male and female victims, the misnah would not need to specify both cases; however, given that the intent is to prohibit killing people who, say, merely worship idols to preemptively save their karma, they do need to specify the cases in which they do grant permission.

I also find it notable that Rabbi Yehuda requires using force to save the girl even if she says, “leave [my attacker] be,” because she’s likely saying that שֶׁלֹּא יַהַרְגֶנָּה, so that he doesn’t kill her–they recognize various scenarios that victims might experience: trying to fight back, or fearing for one’s life so much that you don’t dare fight back. And it’s even more notable that, at least in the case of this page, all of these sentiments seem legitimate to the sages. Still, we’ll leave some of their less enlightened commentary behind, and move on.

Another issue has to do with the proportionality of force. Abaye presents the possibility that the victim can be saved through merely injuring, rather than killing the victim. And Rabbi Yonatan ben Shaul even pushes things further: if such a rescue is possible, and the rescuer nonetheless uses excessive force and kills the attacker, the rescuer is liable for murder. This idea is captured in modern criminal law theory as imperfect self defense.

Another interesting idea is the question of a serious charge subsuming a less serious one. If the pursuer, who is punishable by death, also breaks some dishes in his pursuit, they don’t require him to pay the fine, because the murder or rape far eclipse the monetary value. You’ll be happy to know that, if the pursued party breaks some dishes of the pursuer in fleeing for their life, they are not liable–though if they break dishes of a third party they do need to pay, which seems a bit petty under the circumstances, n’est ces pas?

The last idea I want to discuss has to do with the term יֵהָרֵג וְאַל יַעֲבוֹר (“he shall be killed and not transgress”), which is applied here to some biblical prohibitions but not to others. In modern colloquial Hebrew, this turn of phrase is used to specify laws that prohibit very serious crimes, and the intent is similar here, though there’s a semantic twist that seems important: the idea is that the transgressor himself, on some karmic level, would prefer to be killed than to suffer the disgrace of the transgression (of committing a murder or a rape). This ties some loose ends to the notion of preemptive punishment.

The imagined world of transgressors in this section is interesting to me. It reminds me of the tragic, tortured origin stories that Marvel Comics villains have so often; many of these tropes imply that the villainy stems from some sort of tortured death wish or a desire to get caught–there’s almost relief when they get shipped to the Arkham Institute for the Criminally Insane or somesuch. Is this a deep recognition that “hurt people hurt people”? Or that, ultimately, even those who experience the might of a punitive system desire it in some way?

Well done, folks! We’ve just finished the sugiyah of the rebellious son. We learned how laws that cannot be abolished can be interpreted to within an inch of their existence to practically sabotage their enforceability, and also how various theories of punishment, assumptions about compassion and relationships, and obligations to save others play into rabbinic legal logic.

Whenever my son’s soccer or gymnastics class is over, he gets a sticker, which I think is a nice way to celebrate accomplishments, so from now on, whenever we finish a sugiyah, you all get a sticker!

Punishing Future Crimes: b.Sanhedrin 72

The concept of the movie Minority Report (2002) involves a futuristic police force that can predict future crimes and intervene, as well as preemptively punish the to-be-offenders. One of my favorite lines, which you’ll hear in this trailer, is “I’m placing you under arrest for the future murder of Sarah Marks.”

I bring this up because Thursday’s daf (still trying to stay ahead of the game because of the busy weekend ahead) deals with the deeper philosophical questions undergirding such a harsh punishment for teenagers. The mishna says:

מַתְנִי׳ בֵּן סוֹרֵר וּמוֹרֶה נִידּוֹן עַל שֵׁם סוֹפוֹ. יָמוּת זַכַּאי וְאַל יָמוּת חַיָּיב, שֶׁמִּיתָתָן שֶׁל רְשָׁעִים – הֲנָאָה לָהֶן וַהֲנָאָה לָעוֹלָם.

The idea is that the son’s behavior predicts future wrongdoing, and it’s a karmic benefit, of sorts, for the son to die before the more serious crimes are bound to occur. Rabbi Yosei predicts:

הִגִּיעָה תּוֹרָה לְסוֹף דַּעְתּוֹ שֶׁל בֵּן סוֹרֵר וּמוֹרֶה, שֶׁסּוֹף מְגַמֵּר נִכְסֵי אָבִיו וּמְבַקֵּשׁ לִמּוּדוֹ וְאֵינוֹ מוֹצֵא, וְיוֹצֵא לְפָרָשַׁת דְּרָכִים וּמְלַסְטֵם אֶת הַבְּרִיּוֹת.

We already know, he explains, that this kid is a wrong ‘un, and will eventually eat up his father’s assets, forsake his schooling, and end up a highway bandit.

In the context of teens, the incapacitative punishment rationale might seem extreme. Indeed, the last two decades have seen advances in neuroimaging and developmental psychology that suggest that the prefrontal cortex, which is responsible for restraint, self control, perspective taking, and other salutary aspects of cognitive and emotional maturity, continues developing well into a person’s mid-20s. These findings have contributed, in the United States, to a more enlightened view on juvenile punishment, such as the abolition of the death penalty and narrowing the framework of life without parole–with the understanding that juveniles have the capacity to change. Still, the idea of incapacitation and that “people don’t change” has a lot of popular and policymaking purchase, and the sages are no different.

The issue of preemptive punishment of rebellious sons serves as a gateway for the rest of the daf, which addresses other predictive punishments, especially that of burglars. At issue is the Talmudic self-defense regime. Generally speaking, common law recognizes three aspects of self-defense: (1) stand your ground (permitting any person facing a violent attack to defend themselves), (2) castle doctrine (limiting the immunity from prosecution to people in their own home), and (3) duty to retreat (requiring the person to leave the situation unless there is no other choice). Most of the burglar discussion that follows engages with something akin to the castle doctrine.

According to the Mishna, burglars, like rebellious sons, are preemptively punished–namely for the possibility that the homeowner will kill them to defend his property. The gemara predicts the encounter will play out in this way: the burglar, predicting that the homeowner will resist the burglary, will decide to preemptively kill the homeowner. But if the burglar gets out safely with vessels, there’s some controversy over whether he is liable for the theft: according to Rav, presumably the deterrent effect is unnecessary, since the person was willing to risk death when he came in, and the vessels are still legally owned by the homeowner.

An intervening factor is the question whether, in killing the burglar, the homeowner would be justified or not (such as if it is a father killing a son). If not, says Rav, then even if the burglar breaks something in the house, he is not liable for it; but Rava and the the other sages disagree and would charge the burglar for the destruction. You’d think the majority opinion here is obvious–you break it, you pay for it–but what they want to highlight is that the burglar is liable even if the damage was unintentional.

The next issue has to do with the proper punishment when two transgressions occur: a theft and a Shabbat violation. Since, for the latter, one is to die by stoning, what happens if one steals a purse during Shabbat? According to Rav Bivai, picking up the purse happened before the Shabbat violation (as only carrying the purse into the public domain would be a violation of Shabbat) and thus the person must pay for the theft (presumably before being stoned). But if the person dragged the purse without picking it up, then the violation and the Shabbat violation occur simultaneously, and then the person must only be stoned. Still, the gemara says, the burglar must return the purse, and if he destroys it, he must compensate for it.

There’s a weird anecdote about the controversy between Rava and Rav: once, Rava’s rams were stolen by burglars. When they came back to return them (nice burglars!), Rava said, “keep them–according to Rav you have acquired them by stealing them.” I’m assuming that Rava is being cynical here and trying to use this scenario to show the absurdity of Rav’s position, but I also worry that the irony will be lost on the burglars and they’ll just keep the rams.

The rabbis now turn to figure out when the homeowner may kill the burglar. The baraita says: ״אֵין לוֹ דָּמִים. אִם זָרְחָה הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ עָלָיו״ (“if the sun shone on him, no blood shall be shed on his account.” The sages think that this intends to elucidate that, [only] if it’s as clear as sunlight that the burglar intends to kill you, you may kill him first. Unfortunately, there’s also a contradictory baraita: ״אִם זָרְחָה הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ עָלָיו דָּמִים לוֹ״ (“if the sun shone on him, blood shall be shed on his account”), and the rabbis resolve this by saying that if it is clear that the burglar comes in peace, the homeowner must refrain from killing him. But this leaves a contradiction: what happens if the homeowner is unsure of the burglar’s intentions? The rabbis resolve this by assuming that the first case involves a father burglarizing his son’s residence: the father has compassion for the son, and thus the son might safely assume that his father would not kill him, and should therefore refrain from killing the father. The second case involves a son burglarizing the father’s residence, where the father has no guarantee of the son’s nonviolence and thus more likely to kill him.

This sounds nuts, because paradoxically this bit gives the father more leeway for self-defense than the son. So, perhaps to alleviate the tension, Rav interjects and says that he would kill anyone who broke into his house except for Rav Hanina, because it’s well known that Hanina is a righteous man and would mean him no harm. The others raise their eyebrows: if Hanina is such a righteous man, why would he break into Rav’s house? Rav explains: even if he did, he would have mercy on me like a father has on his son.

What about a burglar caught on Shabbat? That depends on which of the contradicting baraitas you prefer. If you prioritize the self-defense of the homeowner, it can be exercised on a weekday as well as on Shabbat. If you prioritize the burglar’s safety, Rav Sheshet explains that the burglar must be saved if he is critically injured during the crime.

As to who has standing to kill in self-defense, the rabbis interpret the baraita to apply only to the homeowner himself (whose property is at risk from the burglar), not to third parties. But if the burglar is likened to a רוֹדֵף (pursuer), whom anyone can kill to save the pursued party, why limit the right to self-defense? Incidentally, modern criminal law typically includes defense of others as well as self-defense, but this is more complicated, from a philosophical standpoint, than it appears. Anyway, the bible’s use of passive voice in the context of a murderer, מוֹת יוּמַת (“he shall be put to death”) is implied to apply here too, in terms of a universal permission and a universal mode of execution. But other sages worry that the law of murderers does not apply here, as it appears in proximity to the law of vendettas, and as we’ve seen in a prior verse, having two cases together implies that they are not aiming to elucidate a general principle but rather to specify the law as to those two cases.

When describing the burglary scenario, the biblical text uses the term מַחְתֶּרֶת (actually entering the property). While the sages believe that burglars are liable regardless of whether they are found in the property or on the roof, in the backyard, etc., the idea is that an act of breaking in obviates the homeowner’s need to forewarn the burglar: מַחְתַּרְתּוֹ זוֹ הִיא הַתְרָאָתוֹ, the break-in itself constitutes the warning.

We end with a few final insights about pursuers and self-defense against them:

If the pursuer is a minor, it might be possible to rescue the pursued party without killing him; nevertheless, Rav Huna believes the killing is permitted, because he disputes the aforementioned need for forewarning.

If a pregnant woman’s life is threatened by her fetus (the pursuer, in this case), it is okay to save her by killing the fetus, unless the head is already out–even though the baby is considered a live person, what is really pursuing the woman is misfortune from the heavens, rather than the newborn (I can think of many discomfiting permutations of this logic).

A third party who sees hot pursuit may try to dissuade the pursuer from killing the pursued, but it is not necessary (because forewarning is not required–or, at least, not required when it appears that the person is acting with intent). The only time the forewarning is required is when the third party cannot rescue the pursued party because he is standing on the other side of a river.

Glossip Conviction Vacated: Death Penalty Irony Lost on Everyone

This morning the Supreme Court vacated the conviction of Richard Glossip and ordered a new trial for him. Read all about it here. A short excerpt:

The ruling is a major win for Glossip, whose 1998 conviction for arranging the murder of Barry Van Treese a year earlier has been called into question by him and, critically, the state attorney general after new evidence emerged in recent years.

The ruling represents an extraordinary twist in the legal saga surrounding Glossip, who has been scheduled for execution nine times and has eaten his last meal three times only to have his execution stayed.

“We conclude that the prosecution violated its constitutional obligation to correct false testimony,” Justice Sonia Sotomayor wrote for the majority.

At the center of the appeal are notes taken by prosecutors involved in Glossip’s trial about Justin Sneed, the man who killed Van Treese with a baseball bat in a hotel. Even though both sides agree Sneed actually killed Van Treese, Glossip was charged with orchestrating the murder.

Glossip’s conviction rested on Sneed’s testimony, but years after Glossip’s conviction, the state disclosed evidence that Sneed was treated for a serious psychiatric condition. The notes indicate that prosecutors knew about Sneed’s diagnosis and treatment at the time of Glossip’s trial and, according to Glossip’s supporters, hid that information from his defense.

“Had the prosecution corrected Sneed on the stand, his credibility plainly would have suffered. That correction would have revealed to the jury not just that Sneed was untrustworthy (as amicus points out, the jury already knew he repeatedly lied to the police), but also that Sneed was willing to lie to them under oath,” Sotomayor wrote. “Such a revelation would be significant in any case, and was especially so here where Sneed was already ‘nobody’s idea of a strong witness.’”

Just a short while ago, I published an article in the Green Bag in which I wrote this about the case:

In 2015, the Supreme Court rejected Glossip’s petition against the use of midazolam in his execution, just a brief time after the same drug played a horrendous part in the botched execution of Clayton Lockett. In line with the aforementioned trend of technical litigation, the decision revolved around whether Glossip had shown that Oklahoma had better execution methods than midazolam.

Anyone reading the decision could be forgiven for having no idea that Glossip was widely believed to be innocent, and had been for years, and that Oklahoma’s Attorney General, who reviewed his case, does not stand behind the conviction. Nevertheless, the Oklahoma Court of Criminal Appeals would not halt Glossip’s execution. Judge David Lewis wrote that the case “has been thoroughly investigated and reviewed,” with Glossip given “unprecedented access” to prosecutors’ files, “[y]et he has not provided this court with sufficient information that would convince this court to overturn the jury’s determination that he is guilty of first-degree murder and should be sentenced to death.” It took yet another petition to the U.S. Supreme Court to halt the execution.

I’m sure the irony of the person on whom they authorized the expedited killing method turning out to have been innocent this whole time is completely lost on everyone, but I wanted to make sure it would not be lost on you this morning.

Fleeing Justice: b.Sanhedrin 71

In keeping with the general theme of this sugiyah, today’s page features four Gemaraic takes on Mishnaic rules designed to narrow the unpalatable rebellious son rule as much as possible. The trend remains the same: the Mishna narrows the rule in the Torah, and the Gemarah narrows it further.

The first rule has to do with a son who steals:

מַתְנִי׳ גָּנַב מִשֶּׁל אָבִיו וְאָכַל בִּרְשׁוּת אָבִיו, מִשֶּׁל אֲחֵרִים וְאָכַל בִּרְשׁוּת אֲחֵרִים, מִשֶּׁל אֲחֵרִים וְאָכַל בִּרְשׁוּת אָבִיו – אֵינוֹ נַעֲשֶׂה בֵּן סוֹרֵר וּמוֹרֶה עַד שֶׁיִּגְנוֹב מִשֶּׁל אָבִיו וְיֹאכַל בִּרְשׁוּת אֲחֵרִים. רַבִּי יוֹסֵי בְּרַבִּי יְהוּדָה אוֹמֵר: עַד שֶׁיִּגְנוֹב מִשֶּׁל אָבִיו וּמִשֶּׁל אִמּוֹ.

The gemara explains the two relevant factors: the difficult of going through with the theft and the extent to which fearing apprehension will deter the son from further crime. This, by the way, is straight out of the playbook espoused today by situational crime prevention experts. In their work on routine activity theory, Cohen and Felson say that the likelihood that crime will be committed is a function of the convergence in time and place of three factors: likely offenders, suitable targets, and the absence of capable guardians against crime. Assuming that our kid is a bad ‘un, what remains is to make the target less accessible and the guardian more potent. Accordingly, stealing from your father is easy, but eating on your father’s property puts you in fear of your dad catching you and will thus discourage you from reoffending. Stealing from others is difficult, but if you eat it on your father’s property, you still could be frightened into going straight. Stealing from others is hard to do, and thus daunting. So, it is only the son who steals from his father and eats it elsewhere who counts are rebellious.

A further limitation requires stealing from both parents. Presumably, whatever the mother has belongs to the father (ugh), so the rebellious son gets dinged for stealing from a meal prepared to both of them (to purchase himself the aforementioned cheap meat and wine), or from stealing from property designated as belonging to the mother only.

The second rule requires both parents to be on board with declaring their son a rebellious one:

מַתְנִי׳ הָיָה אָבִיו רוֹצֶה וְאִמּוֹ אֵינָהּ רוֹצֶה, אָבִיו אֵינוֹ רוֹצֶה וְאִמּוֹ רוֹצָה – אֵינוֹ נַעֲשֶׂה בֵּן סוֹרֵר וּמוֹרֶה עַד שֶׁיְּהוּ שְׁנֵיהֶם רוֹצִין. רַבִּי יְהוּדָה אוֹמֵר: אִם לֹא הָיְתָה אִמּוֹ רְאוּיָה לְאָבִיו, אֵינוֹ נַעֲשֶׂה בֵּן סוֹרֵר וּמוֹרֶה.

The gemara goes further than that: they start off by trying, for size, the idea that if the parents aren’t a good match from a halakhic perspective then they can’t be on board with each other. Then again, one might have parents who are not married to each other and nevertheless both on board with declaring him rebellious. So, the gemara argues that the parents have to be on par with each other, so that their uniform declaration ״אֵינֶנּוּ שֹׁמֵעַ בְּקֹלֵנוּ״ (“he doesn’t listen to us”) sounds homogenous. So, they have to have a similar voice, visage, and height מִדְּקוֹל בָּעֵינַן שָׁוִין, מַרְאֶה וְקוֹמָה נָמֵי בָּעֵינַן שָׁוִין.

If you think, “this is ridiculous! They’re just finding any excuse to ensure that no one gets labeled rebellious,” you’re absolutely right, and they are aware of it and say so explicitly: בֵּן סוֹרֵר וּמוֹרֶה לֹא הָיָה וְלֹא עָתִיד לִהְיוֹת – a rebellious son has never existed and will never exist. This rule, they say, exists just for the sake of learning it–same as the Draconian rule about destroying idolatrous cities. The funny thing is that one rabbi, Rabbi Yonatan, is not on board with the rest, and says, “I saw a rebellious son’s grave once.” Then, when they all exclaim that an idolatrous city also cannot exist, he pipes up again saying, “I saw one once.” Rabbi Yonatan reminds me of the sole “non-individual” in this immortal Life of Brian scene:

The third rule creatively interprets the biblical text to exclude sons of people with various disabilities:

מַתְנִי׳ הָיָה אֶחָד מֵהֶם גִּידֵּם, אוֹ חִיגֵּר, אוֹ אִלֵּם, אוֹ סוֹמֵא, אוֹ חֵרֵשׁ – אֵינוֹ נַעֲשֶׂה בֵּן סוֹרֵר וּמוֹרֶה, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: ״וְתָפְשׂוּ בוֹ אָבִיו וְאִמּוֹ״ – וְלֹא גִּדְמִין, ״וְהוֹצִיאוּ אֹתוֹ״ – וְלֹא חִגְּרִין, ״וְאָמְרוּ״ – וְלֹא אִלְּמִין, ״בְּנֵנוּ זֶה״ – וְלֹא סוֹמִין, ״אֵינֶנּוּ שֹׁמֵעַ בְּקֹלֵנוּ״ – וְלֹא חֵרְשִׁין. .

Let’s recap: since the biblical rule requires the parents to (1) catch the son, (2) take him out, (3) speak up and say (4) “this is our son… (5) he doesn’t listen to us” they must have all their limbs in good functioning order, they must be able to speak, see, and hear. If this strikes you as silly, remember the end goal: to make sure the rule is unenforceable.

In the extremely unlikely event that some unlucky rebellious kid does face the court, the mishna specifies the procedure to follow:

מַתְרִין בּוֹ בִּפְנֵי שְׁלֹשָׁה, וּמַלְקִין אוֹתוֹ. חָזַר וְקִלְקֵל – נִדּוֹן בְּעֶשְׂרִים וּשְׁלֹשָׁה, וְאֵינוֹ נִסְקָל עַד שֶׁיְּהוּ שָׁם שְׁלֹשָׁה הָרִאשׁוֹנִים, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: ״בְּנֵנוּ זֶה״ – זֶהוּ שֶׁלָּקָה בִּפְנֵיכֶם.

The kid gets warned before two people, then flogged before three (which is a legal court). The sages deduce this flogging process–akin to the 1980s practice of administering a “short sharp shock” or what today’s probarion officers call “flash incarceration” to scare people straight–from a similar procedure prescribed in the bible for defamers. If the kid recidivates, he is to face justice before 23 judges, including the former three, and identified again by the parents.

The fourth rule has to do with a kid who flees his trial for rebelliousness before reaching puberty :

מַתְנִי׳ בָּרַח עַד שֶׁלֹּא נִגְמַר דִּינוֹ, וְאַחַר כָּךְ הִקִּיף זָקָן הַתַּחְתּוֹן – פָּטוּר. וְאִם מִשֶּׁנִּגְמַר דִּינוֹ בָּרַח, וְאַחַר כָּךְ הִקִּיף זָקָן הַתַּחְתּוֹן – חַיָּיב.

In the two prior pages, you’ll recall, the sages tried to limit the application of the rebellious son doctrine to teenagers within a rather narrow timeline of their maturation process. The situation covered here is of a kid who was still within that range but not yet found guilty and managed to run away. If that kid is found afterwards, when they are beyond the allowed age range, he will have successfully escaped the law. However, if there’s a verdict already and then the kid runs, he will face justice after he is apprehended. The analogy proposed by Rabbi Hanina is of a gentile who curses God and later converts to Judaism. הוֹאִיל וְנִשְׁתַּנָּה דִּינוֹ, נִשְׁתַּנֵּית מִיתָתוֹ (as his legal situation has changed, his fate changes as well). The analogy is not perfect, but the idea is that once the verdict is pronounced, the rebellious son is already a dead man and thus cannot escape his fate.

This principle reminds me a lot of the distinctions made between substantive and procedural new law for the purpose of retroactivity. If, for example, a new law exempts a category of people from punishment (e.g., no more death penalty for juveniles), it acts retroactively. If the change is merely procedural (e.g., new wrinkle to jury selection), it only operates prospectively. And if the case is final, generally speaking, new rules will not apply nor will they be announced.

Harry Potter and the Cursed Parents: b.Sanhedrin 66

I’m still very shaken by the news and find it difficult to engage with crass and violent materials, so today I’ll focus on the first portion of the daf, which deals with cursing offenses, rather than the second one, which analyzes sex offenses.

We start off with a reminder that Shabbat violations are punishable only when intentional, and move straight on to cursing. It’s an interesting transition: the end of page 65 was devoted to assorted witches, mages, soothsayers, etc., and shifting gears to cursing feels like the continuation of a grimoire.

Anyway, the mishna says that, to be liable for cursing one’s father and mother, one has to actually use a name; using a nickname incurs a liability according to Rabbi Meir, but is not an offense according to others. This is the point of departure for the gemara, which now breaks down the elements of the offense. First, they conclude that this is not just an offense for sons, but also for daughters or for any gender-fluid child (really, this is in the original). Then they wonder whether, to commit the offense, one must curse both parents. Rabbi Yoshiah thinks so, but Rabbi Yonatan thinks that either one is enough, because the text does not specify ״יַחְדָּו״ (together).

Here the gemara looks at several cursing offenses, which differ from each other in the target of the curse: God, a president, a judge, a parent. Here’s the debate:

״ תַּלְמוּד לוֹמַר: ״אֱלֹהִים לֹא תְקַלֵּל וְגוֹ׳״. אִם הָיָה אָבִיו דַּיָּין – הֲרֵי הוּא בִּכְלַל ״אֱלֹהִים לֹא תְקַלֵּל״, וְאִם הָיָה אָבִיו נָשִׂיא – הֲרֵי הוּא בִּכְלַל ״וְנָשִׂיא בְעַמְּךָ לֹא תָאֹר״. אֵינוֹ לֹא דַּיָּין וְלֹא נָשִׂיא, מִנַּיִין? אָמְרַתְּ: הֲרֵי אַתָּה דָּן בִּנְיַן אָב מִשְּׁנֵיהֶן. לֹא רְאִי נְשִׂיא כִּרְאִי דַּיָּין, וְלֹא רְאִי דַּיָּין כִּרְאִי נָשִׂיא. לֹא רְאִי דַּיָּין כִּרְאִי נָשִׂיא, שֶׁהֲרֵי דַּיָּין – אַתָּה מְצוֶּּוה עַל הוֹרָאָתוֹ, כִּרְאִי נָשִׂיא – שֶׁאִי אַתָּה מְצֻוֶּוה עַל הוֹרָאָתוֹ. וְלֹא רְאִי נָשִׂיא כִּרְאִי דַּיָּין, שֶׁהַנָּשִׂיא – אַתָּה מְצוֶּּוה עַל הַמְרָאָתוֹ, כִּרְאִי דַּיָּין – שֶׁאִי אַתָּה מְצוֶּּוה עַל הַמְרָאָתוֹ. הַצַּד הַשָּׁוֶה שֶׁבָּהֶם שֶׁהֵן בְּעַמְּךָ, וְאַתָּה מוּזְהָר עַל קִלְלָתָן. אַף אֲנִי אָבִיא אָבִיךָ, שֶׁבְּעַמְּךָ, וְאַתָּה מוּזְהָר עַל קִלְלָתוֹ. ״.

The issue is that there are separate prohibitions against cursing judges or presidents, and if one has a judge or a president for a father, one technically commits two offenses and, obviously, cannot be stoned twice.

Remember Blockburger? The case that involved someone prosecuted twice for drug sales even though they were similar offenses and the buyer was the same guy? There was a second problem in Blockburger that raised legal issue, and it was this: The Harrison act prohibited buying drugs unless they came from a stamped package (which meant that taxes were paid for them; think buying recreational weed at a dispensary without a medical card), and it also prohibited buying drugs not from a doctor. Could the exact same purchase—if it was made from a non-doctor and not from a stamped package—furnish two counts or just one?

The disposition in Blockburger, which would later become the leading case on double jeopardy issues, was that it is okay to charge a defendant with two counts for the same action if each of the offenses had an element that the other did not:

The sages accept that the same principle applies in our case:

The sages then bring up another issue: the question of the social values promoted by these offenses. Technically, this is a classic Blockburger scenario: each offense has an element—an attribute of the victim—which the others do not. But these elements stem from the different nuances of respect you owe each of these three figures. And yet, they are all of your people, and respect is required for all of them. But in all these cases, one is expected to respect the victims’ authorities because of their greatness, which raises a fourth issue:

מָה לְהַצַּד הַשָּׁוֶה שֶׁבָּהֶן, שֶׁכֵּן גְּדוּלָּתָן גָּרְמָה לָהֶן? תַּלְמוּד לוֹמַר: ״לֹא תְקַלֵּל חֵרֵשׁ״. בְּאוּמְלָלִים שֶׁבְּעַמְּךָ הַכָּתוּב מְדַבֵּר. מָה לְחֵרֵשׁ, שֶׁכֵּן חֲרִישָׁתוֹ גָּרְמָה לוֹ? נָשִׂיא וְדַיָּין יוֹכִיחוּ, מָה לְנָשִׂיא וְדַיָּין שֶׁכֵּן גְּדוּלָּתָן גָּרְמָה לָהֶן? חֵרֵשׁ יוֹכִיחַ. וְחָזַר הַדִּין. לֹא רְאִי זֶה כִרְאִי זֶה, וְלֹא רְאִי זֶה כִּרְאִי זֶה. הַצַּד הַשָּׁוֶה שֶׁבָּהֶן: שֶׁהֵן בְּעַמְּךָ, וְאַתָּה מוּזְהָר עַל קִלְלָתָן. אַף אֲנִי אָבִיא אָבִיךָ, שֶׁבְּעַמְּךָ וְאַתָּה מוּזְהָר עַל קִלְלָתוֹ. מָה לְצַד הַשָּׁוֶה שֶׁבָּהֶן, שֶׁכֵּן מְשׁוּנִּין? אֶלָּא, אִם כֵּן נִכְתּוֹב קְרָא: ״אוֹ אֱלֹהִים וְחֵרֵשׁ, אוֹ נָשִׂיא וְחֵרֵשׁ

The prohibition to curse a deaf person seems to have a different rationale: it is precisely because of the deaf person’s vulnerability—they cannot hear you, and therefore cannot protect themselves or respond to you—that cursing them is especially vicious. In that sense, it’s a prohibition of a different ilk than the previous ones. But the sages say: what all these people have in common is that they are מְשׁוּנִּין, they are unusual, there is something out of the ordinary about them that calls for special care or respect for them.

Blood of a Salamander: b.Sanhedrin 63-65

Today’s limmud is dedicated to the precious memories of Kfir, Ariel, and Shiri Bibas, and Oded Lifshitz. עַל־אֵ֣לֶּה ׀ אֲנִ֣י בוֹכִיָּ֗ה עֵינִ֤י ׀ עֵינִי֙ יֹ֣רְדָה מַּ֔יִם כִּֽי־רָחַ֥ק מִמֶּ֛נִּי מְנַחֵ֖ם מֵשִׁ֣יב נַפְשִׁ֑י הָי֤וּ בָנַי֙ שֽׁוֹמֵמִ֔ים כִּ֥י גָבַ֖ר אוֹיֵֽב׃ {ס} (Lamentations 1:16).

***

“My Father in the Heavens, how far I’ve gone,” says the hero of Shai Agnon’s story The Lady and the Peddler. And so have we, my fellow Talmud travelers – a busy week of grading and preparing for a conference and sitting with the vast grief of the news set us back a few pages, so we’re catching up today.

Reading a bigger portion is not necessarily a bad thing. It reminded me that the Talmud is a little bit like Forrest Gump’s mom’s bag of chocolates—you never quite know what you’re going to get. Personally, I don’t feel obligated to find beauty in all of it; the misogynistic locker talk doesn’t tickle my fancy at all, which raises some worrisome questions about what will happen with this Substack the day we hit Tractate Sotah. But, as Aragorn says in Return of the King, “it is not this day”: today’s portion is peppered with peculiar curiosities, which is my jam!

It all starts as a continuation of yesterday’s discussion of how to count violations—the unit of prosecution issue—with the sages finding biblical anchoring for their legal opinions. For example, there are three biblical mentions of the prohibition to bow to idols, and since nothing in the Torah is deemed superfluous, the sages opine that the first is for worship that follows the protocol, the second for unconventional worship, and the third to call attention to the distinction: אַחַת לִכְדַרְכָּהּ, וְאַחַת שֶׁלֹּא כְּדַרְכָּהּ, וְאַחַת לְחַלֵּק.

A further issue pertains to the difference between speech and action–whether saying to an idol, “you are my god” differs, in terms of punishment, from actually performing ritual worship. The general view is that actual worship is a capital offense, and mere speech can be addressed through a guilt offering. Interestingly, they fold into this another issue: that of recognizing the right and wrong gods in the same speech.

The key biblical source for this is the worship of the golden calf, to which the worshippers said, “These are your gods, Israel, which brought you up out of the land of Egypt” (Exodus 32:8). Rabi Yohana says it was lucky that they said “gods” and “they” (implying a partnership between the right god and the wrong one, but at least mentioning the former), rather than attributing the exodus *only* to the golden calf. But Rabbi Shimon ben Yohai believes that even this formulation is to be condemned: not only does it repudiate monotheism, but it might also imply *more* wrong gods beyond the golden calf.

The sages try to parse out the differences between the various types of idolatry using the speech-vs.-act distinction, but then they come up with another distinction: between the principal actor (the person who does the actual idolatry) and the inciter. While the latter is, technically, speech, it can also be seen as acting through others–causing idolatry to happen: וְלֹא יִגְרוֹם לַאֲחֵרִים שִׁידְּרוּ בִּשְׁמוֹ וְשֶׁיְּקַיְּימוּ בִּשְׁמוֹ. The concern about indirect idolatry extends to doing business with foreigners that might require taking an idolatrous oath alongside them, and also to situations such as this one:

כִּי אֲתָא עוּלָּא, בָּת בְּקַלְנְבוֹ. אֲמַר לֵיהּ רָבָא: וְהֵיכָא בָּת מָר? אֲמַר לֵיהּ: בְּקַלְנְבוֹ. אֲמַר לֵיהּ: וְהָכְתִיב ״וְשֵׁם אֱלֹהִים אֲחֵרִים לֹא תַזְכִּירוּ״? אֲמַר לֵיהּ, הָכִי אָמַר רַבִּי יוֹחָנָן: כׇּל עֲבוֹדָה זָרָה הַכְּתוּבָה בַּתּוֹרָה – מוּתָּר לְהַזְכִּיר שְׁמָהּ. וְהָא הֵיכָא כְּתִיבָא? דִּכְתִיב: ״כָּרַע בֵּל קֹרֵס נְבוֹ״

Ulla stayed in a place called Kalnevo, which also happens to be the name of an idol. So when asked, “where did you stay?” he said, “in Kalnevo.” When he was chided for blasphemy, Ulla explained that saying idol names that are mentioned in the Torah is allowed, and it says, in Isaiah 46:1, “כָּרַע בֵּל קֹרֵס נְבוֹ” (crouching Bel, hidden Nevo, if you will). While general clowning is disallowed, mockery of idolatry is allowed, and “כָּרַע בֵּל קֹרֵס נְבוֹ” is said to be a mockery of the idols, as if they crouched or knelt to defecate.

From here on, in pages 63 and 64, we get a lot of anthropology: the sages describe different forms of idolatry. These include: having a little pocket idol one can take out and kiss once in a while; placing pictures of rich people near the troughs of hungry cattle, so that the calves paw them; worshipping images of chickens, roosters, a bald goat, a dog and a donkey; sacrificing their children to images of a mule and a horse. Then, we get a side remark: turns out that even the father of Hezekiah, the king who fortified the walls of Jerusalem, wanted to burn him as sacrifice–אֶלָּא שֶׁסָּכַתּוּ אִמּוֹ סָלָמַנְדְּרָא–but his mom smeared salamander blood on him, which rendered him fireproof. The storytelling continues; some of the stories are distasteful, especially on a difficult day like today, so I’m going to leave them be and move on.

The sages observe, though, that biblical and mishnaic sources tend to treat the worship of the Molekh–the idol to whom people would sacrifice their children–as more severe than the worship of other idols. Perhaps, as some sages argue, this is about any idol said to be king (מולך means “reigning”), and perhaps there should be distinctions between worshipping temporary molekhs and permanent ones.

Page 65 turns to witchcraft, trying to distinguish the different kinds of divination based on biblical verses, including necromancers and tellers of omens. I think we’ll leave it at that for today and continue tomorrow.

Cuddling with Idols: b.Sanhedrin 60-61

Today we’re going over two pages (the Shabbat page and today’s). I might make this a habit, as our family Saturdays are packed with the holy religion of children’s sports. We’ll see how it goes. Anyway, the bulk of both pages is a continuous discussion of the offense of idolatry.

The beginning of p. 60, though, continues the rabbinical discussion from pp. 57-59 about the universal application of various obligations. Rabbi Shimon, you might remember, thought the prohibition on witchcraft applies to Jews and gentiles alike. The reasoning is that the prohibition uses universal language: ״מְכַשֵּׁפָה לֹא תְחַיֶּה״ (“thou shalt not suffer a witch to live”), which includes various commandments, including the prohibition against bestiality, that do have universal application. A similar maneuver is used by Rabbi Elazar to universalize the prohibition on mixing different types of seed and textile. This issue relates directly to the question of the two covenants, which came up in the previous pages: the Noahide one, which applies to all humans, and the Sinaitic one, which applies to Israelites/Jews. The rabbis carefully parse the obligation language: the phrase ״וּשְׁמַרְתֶּם אֶת חֻקֹּתַי״ (and you shall keep my statutes) refers to statutes handed now, whereas the phrase ״אֶת חֻקֹּתַי תִּשְׁמֹרוּ״ (my statutes you shall keep) refers to statutes generally, in principle (including the ones already in place.) Which, to me at least, sounds like the vast difference between the People’s Front of Judea and the Judean People’s Front.

The page now returns to an issue we had discarded halfway through: the criminal trials of blasphemers, specifically the prohibition on witnesses to utter the blasphemy even when reporting the out-of-court statement. Remember that the witnesses have to use the euphemism YOSE in lieu of the actual name? They carve out the elements of the offense: to be liable, one must use at least the Tetragrammaton (the four-letter name of God); the two-leter YH is not enough for committing the offense.

Thing is, if the witnesses and judges were all talking around the issue, how can we be sure what the defendant said? The mishna teaches that when the judgment is over, one witness (the eldest) says the actual name that was uttered, and then the judges rise and tear their garment. The gemara finds biblical anchoring for this custom. In Judges 3:20, when Ehud comes to give news to Eglon the Moabite, he says, “I have a message from God to you”, and Eglon rises => the judges must rise (and if a gentile rose, Israelites surely must!). And in II Kings 18:37, after Rabshakeh gives his Mouth-of-Sauron speech, the Judean officials tear their garments => so must the judges. The judges must not mend their clothes, which they get from the emphasis and repetition in the description of Elisha tearing his garments (וַיִּקְרָעֵם לִשְׁנַיִם קְרָעִים, and he tore them into two pieces). The witnesses do not need to do so, as they would presumably have already done so when they heard the blasphemy in the first place. And the best zinger of the lot is this:

וּפְלִיגִי דְּרַבִּי חִיָּיא בְּתַרְוַיְיהוּ, דְּאָמַר רַבִּי חִיָּיא: הַשּׁוֹמֵעַ אַזְכָּרָה בִּזְמַן הַזֶּה אֵינוֹ חַיָּיב לִקְרוֹעַ, שֶׁאִם אִי אַתָּה אוֹמֵר כֵּן – נִתְמַלֵּא כׇּל הַבֶּגֶד קְרָעִים.

Meaning, there’s a controversy over whether, nowadays there’s a need to tear one’s cloth when hearing blasphemy; Rabbi Hiya says one doesn’t have to, otherwise the entire garment will be torn to pieces, which is such a poetic way to convey desensitization; others dispute this, doubting we’ve become so bad-spoken and suggesting that one still needs to tear their clothes when hearing blasphemy by a Jew.

The last issue the sages flag here is the deviation from the usual procedure, in which witnesses do not testify in each other’s presence to prevent them from hearing each other’s testimony (and thus tailoring their testimony to harmonize with that of other witnesses.) In modern U.S. evidence law, this is addressed in Rule 615, which was recently amended to clarify that, in addition to excluding witnesses from the courtroom, the court may also prohibit the excluded witness from learning about, obtaining, or being provided with trial testimony. The blasphemy business, though, requires an exception from this rule, because how will witness #2 be able to say “I heard that also”? Apparently, the concern about repeating the blasphemy outweighs the concern of witness collusion–both in two witnesses and in three.

Which brings us to a new issue: the definition of idolatry, an offense punishable by death. The mishna lists the forms of punshable idolatry, distinguishing them other forms of dealing with idols, such as cuddling and bathing them, which are not punishable:

מַתְנִי׳ הָעוֹבֵד עֲבוֹדָה זָרָה: אֶחָד הָעוֹבֵד, וְאֶחָד הַמְזַבֵּחַ, וְאֶחָד הַמְקַטֵּר, וְאֶחָד הַמְנַסֵּךְ, וְאֶחָד הַמִּשְׁתַּחֲוֶה, וְאֶחָד הַמְקַבְּלוֹ עָלָיו לֶאֱלוֹהַּ, וְהָאוֹמֵר לוֹ ״אֵלִי אַתָּה״.

אֲבָל הַמְגַפֵּף, וְהַמְנַשֵּׁק, וְהַמְכַבֵּד, וְהַמְרַבֵּץ, וְהַמְרַחֵץ, וְהַסָּךְ, וְהַמַּלְבִּישׁ, וְהַמַּנְעִיל – עוֹבֵר בְּלֹא תַעֲשֶׂה. הַנּוֹדֵר בִּשְׁמוֹ, וְהַמְקַיֵּים בִּשְׁמוֹ – עוֹבֵר בְּלֹא תַעֲשֶׂה.

הַפּוֹעֵר עַצְמוֹ לְבַעַל פְּעוֹר – זוֹ הִיא עֲבוֹדָתָהּ. הַזּוֹרֵק אֶבֶן לְמַרְקוּלִיס – זוֹ הִיא עֲבוֹדָתָהּ.

One of the most interesting bits about the gemara on this is the interest the sages have in foreign forms of worship. Rabbi Yirmeyah says that bowing to an idol, even if it’s not the usual manner of worshiping that particular idol, is prohibited (there are verses about idol worship that specifically mention bowing, from which they deduce that bowing is especially offensive). The sages pay special attention to the punishable worship of idols in the same way that the Jewish God is worshipped, to prevent a situation where they accidentally prohibit the proper form and target of worship. Some sages believe that cuddling with idols, which is not mentioned, is not forbidden; others believe that the term “bowing” is a general term meant to imply all forms of idol worship–or at least to any worshipful behavior that would be honorable re the Jewish God but is dishonorable re idols.

The rabbis then elicit a principle of “transferred intention”: if one performs an idolatrous labor thinking of another idolatrous labor, the offense is still punishable, as the intent shifts from labor to labor (דִּמְחַשְּׁבִין מֵעֲבוֹדָה לַעֲבוֹדָה). This reminds me a bit of the transferred intent doctrine in modern criminal law: if you wanted to kill A but killed B, your intent to commit murder carries and you are culpable either way. But the sages raise another problem with transferred intention in the context of idolatry: Slaughtering animals, they say, is allowed for mundane purposes. But what if the intent (to use the blood for idol worship) does not come to fruition? There’s a conflict of opinion, and some debate over whether the issue is the person’s liability or the dead animal’s suitability for mundane labors.

So, there’s a lot more of this here, but I want to turn to a little side issue. Often, when relaying a debate, there’s a little tidbit about when and where the conversation happened. Somewhere on page 61, we learn the following:

רַב הַמְנוּנָא אִירְכַסוּ לֵיהּ תּוֹרֵי. פְּגַע בֵּיהּ רַבָּה, רְמָא לֵיהּ מַתְנְיָתִין אַהֲדָדֵי: תְּנַן ״הָעוֹבֵד עֲבוֹדָה זָרָה״ – עוֹבֵד אִין, אוֹמֵר לָא. וְהָאֲנַן תְּנַן: ״הָאוֹמֵר ׳אֶעֱבוֹד׳, ׳אֵלֵךְ וְאֶעֱבוֹד׳, ׳נֵלֵךְ וְנַעֲבוֹד׳״?

Rav Hamnuna lost his oxen and, presumably when searching for them, ran into Rabba, who joined him, and along the way they chatted about a contradiction between two mishnayot, which reach opposite conclusions about the liability of someone who declares he’s going to worship an idol but doesn’t actually do it. I love that whoever redacted this stuff wanted to provide us the mental image of these two guys, walking around, looking for oxen, and hashing out the mishnaic contradictions. But the linguistic issue they raise is interesting, because modern law, too, struggles with the point at which declaring an intent becomes an act. Is declaring “I’m going to go worship idols” merely speech, or is it speech-act, which might spur toward idol worship, or which is somehow performative on its own?

One difficult case involves a person who posits themselves as a god and asks others to worship them. The way the sages address this scenario is pretty cool. Some worry that this incitement is worrisome, because folks might be persuaded (שָׁמְעִי לֵיהּ) and some think that it’s harmless, because people will likely say, “how is he different than us?” mock the guy, and then no harm is done. The sages consider that inciting an individual can work, but trying to sway a whole group of people will likely not work, as there will probably be more inertia in a group and less deviant energy.

וּמַתְנְיָתִין: כָּאן בְּיָחִיד הַנִּיסָּת, כָּאן בְּרַבִּים הַנִּיסָּתִים. יָחִיד – לָא מִימְּלַךְ, וְטָעֵי בָּתְרֵיהּ; רַבִּים – מִימַּלְכִי, וְלָא טָעוּ בָּתְרֵיהּ.

And the contradiction between the mishnayot can be resolved as follows: There, where the mishna states that one is liable for speech alone, the reference is to an individual who was incited; here, where the mishna indicates that one is not liable for speech alone, it is referring to a case of an incited multitude of people. The Gemara explains: An individual who was incited does not typically change his mind, and he goes astray after idol worship. Therefore, once he agrees to the suggestion to worship an idol, he has fully accepted the idol upon himself as a god and is liable. By contrast, a multitude of people are apt to change their minds, and consequently they do not go astray after idol worship.

This makes me think of the many studies on cults I read when working on Yesterday’s Monsters, and on the acquisition of followers one by one. The sages don’t seem to consider a scenario in which the cult leader accrues a critical mass of worshippers, which would make it easier to tip the scales for the as-of-yet unconvinced. To the extent that the matter of who is swayed, how many, and by whom, has some implications as to the punishment–and the sages debate whether it makes a difference re stoning-vs.-beheading–the arguments that are being made are more about anchoring the punishments in verse than about the psychology of cult suasion.

Other People’s Families: b.Sanhedrin 58

Today’s page continues the peculiar conversation about the legal obligations that the Torah places on people who presumably have nothing to do with the Torah: gentiles, who according to the previous page must obey the Noahide Obligations. The sages are still hard at work delineating the limitations of these obligations, and elucidating the connections between the moral standards that apply to Jews and non-Jews–and in today’s page, this requires them to step their toes into a hefty question that provokes heated debate today, too: who is a Jew?

The porous connections between Jews and Gentiles are present in various literary precursors to the Talmud: apocryphal books, Qumran scrolls, especially the sectarian writings, and the book of Acts in the New Testament. As Moshe Lavie explains in a 2013 article, the initial elucidation of obligations for non-Jews wasn’t perceived in apocryphal texts as separate from the covenant with Jews, but rather as part of the continuing negotiation and commitment between God and humans in general, part of the historical progression of rights and duties toward the Abrahamic and Sinaitic covenants. In Qumran sectarian texts, there is a separation between the sect members’ obligations and those who apply to everyone else–Jews and other Noahides alike. It is only in the talmud that the distinction ossifies into a Jews-vs.-Gentiles framework of obligations.

But even in Talmudic times, the separation was far from settled. In a 1979 article, Jewish law scholar Ze’ev Falk writes about the extent to which the mishna, tosefta, and talmud are concerned not only with mixed families, but also with the application of Jewish family law to foreign families. He starts off with the important reminder that, contrary to what might appear from the text, intermarriages were extremely common (which is why the decree to end them, and divorce non-Jewish women and children, during the Ezra and Nehemia times was perceived as such a dramatic and traumatic rift.) Later, in exile, Falk explains that assimilation led some Jews to adopt various foreign customs, including, in one case involving Alexandrian assimilationists, kidnapping women in the market as an informal way of ending their previous marriage and starting a new one. This method of family formation was prohibited to Jews, but was a not-uncommon Roman custom. To ensure that these folks were not getting caught in halakhic violations, Hillel would write them quick divorce decrees and “kosherize” what they had done via custom.

Intermarried people were not the only liminal characters in the Jews-vs.-Gentiles analysis. In a 2017 article, Yedidah Koren explains the Tannaitic creation of an in-between category, “Israel uncircumcised” (ישראל ערל), who is on some sort of probationary period.

Perhaps the existence of these liminal categories–intermarried people, assimilationists, “Israel uncircumcised,” etc., somewhat ameliorate the absurdity of a stricken people in exile creating this megalomanic set of rules that apply to the people around them who probably couldn’t care less. And perhaps this is precisely why they did it–to form a counternarrative of power, absurd as it may seem, to lift up the spirits of those around them, serving the same function that the wacky Sefer Toledot Yeshu will serve in Medieval times. Indeed, in her terrific dissertation on Jewish/Gentile relations in the Talmud, Sigalit Ur examines 220 rabbinic stories, all of which share the fantastical, farfetched narrative feature of Jews dramatically triumphing over gentiles and having their comeuppance.

Anyway, let’s get to it. Most of today’s conversation is concerned with the question raised by Rabbi Meir: Should gentiles be liable for incestuous behavior that is forbidden to Jews? The liminal case they are concerned with has to do with a convert who was conceived when his parents were gentiles, but born after his mother had already converted. Here’s how the initial opinions shake out:

שֶׁהָיְתָה הוֹרָתוֹ שֶׁלֹּא בִּקְדוּשָּׁה, וְלֵידָתוֹ בִּקְדוּשָּׁה – יֵשׁ לוֹ שְׁאֵר הָאֵם, וְאֵין לוֹ שְׁאֵר הָאָב. הָא כֵּיצַד? נָשָׂא אֲחוֹתוֹ מִן הָאֵם – יוֹצִיא, מִן הָאָב – יְקַיֵּים. אֲחוֹת הָאָב מִן הָאֵם – יוֹצִיא, מִן הָאָב – יְקַיֵּים. אֲחוֹת הָאֵם מִן הָאֵם – יוֹצִיא. אֲחוֹת הָאֵם מִן הָאָב, רַבִּי מֵאִיר אוֹמֵר: יוֹצִיא, וַחֲכָמִים אוֹמְרִים: יְקַיֵּים. שֶׁהָיָה רַבִּי מֵאִיר אוֹמֵר: כׇּל עֶרְוָה שֶׁהִיא מִשּׁוּם שְׁאֵר אֵם – יוֹצִיא, מִשּׁוּם שְׁאֵר הָאָב – יְקַיֵּים.

The “birthright” jurisdiction of the convert follows the matrilineal line: marrying your stepsister on your dad’s side is valid, but marrying your stepsister on your mom’s side (the “Jewish side”, if you will) is wrong. Rabbi Meir extends this rule to any female relatives on the patrilineal and matrilineal sides, respectively. Note that the complicated Jewish rituals for marrying one’s brother-in-law after losing one’s husband (יבמה) or getting out of it through a ceremony (חליצה) do not apply to non-Jews: וּמוּתָּר בְּאֵשֶׁת אָחִיו, וּבְאֵשֶׁת אֲחִי אָבִיו, וּשְׁאָר כׇּל עֲרָיוֹת מוּתָּרוֹת לוֹ.

Now we start dealing with the sort of scenario that the cat dragged out of the soap opera channel. What of a non-Jew who married a mother *and* her daughter? כּוֹנֵס אַחַת וּמוֹצִיא אַחַת (he chooses one and divorces the other). But if one of them dies, is he allowed to remain married to the other? Opinions vary, and the sages build their argument relying on the Genesis 2:24: עַל־כֵּן֙ יַֽעֲזׇב־אִ֔ישׁ אֶת־אָבִ֖יו וְאֶת־אִמּ֑וֹ וְדָבַ֣ק בְּאִשְׁתּ֔וֹ וְהָי֖וּ לְבָשָׂ֥ר אֶחָֽד׃ (the verse talking of a man leaving his home to be of “one flesh” with his wife). The sages try to parse the terms אָבִ֖יו (his father) and אִמּ֑וֹ (his mother) to figure out who needs to be left. Rabbi Eliezer wants to read these simply: they do mean “father and mother”. Rabbi Akiva reads into the word “father” the term “also father’s wife” to imply a prohibition on paternal relatives as well.

But as it turns out, the Torah stories are rife with stories involving people marrying their relatives, which now have to be explained away in creative ways. For example, in Exodus 6:20, Amram, Moses’ father, marries his aunt Yokheved; the sages reason that she was his paternal aunt. When Abraham and Sarah pull their “she’s my sister” stunt on Abimelekh (wild story, Genesis 20:12), Abraham stresses that Sarah is his paternal sister (אֲחֹתִי בַת אָבִי הִיא אַךְ לֹא בַת אִמִּי) and therefore the marriage is fine. The gemara concludes that nieces are akin to sisters, and the same rules apply.

Along the way, the text reminds us of some moral prohibitions encompasses in the words וְדָבַק (and he clung) and אִשְׁתּוֹ (his wife). These, as I never tire to explain, are men of their time and place, and they have rather limiting opinions on who can count as a spouse and on what forms of clinging are and are not within the approved norm.

Toward the end of the page we let go of the incest conversation, for now, and discuss some garden variety violence.

אָמַר רַבִּי חֲנִינָא: גּוֹי שֶׁהִכָּה אֶת יִשְׂרָאֵל חַיָּיב מִיתָה, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: ״וַיִּפֶן כֹּה וָכֹה וַיַּרְא כִּי אֵין אִישׁ [וַיַּךְ אֶת הַמִּצְרִי] וְגוֹ׳״. וְאָמַר רַבִּי חֲנִינָא: הַסּוֹטֵר לוֹעוֹ שֶׁל יִשְׂרָאֵל כְּאִילּוּ סוֹטֵר לוֹעוֹ שֶׁל שְׁכִינָה, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: ״מוֹקֵשׁ אָדָם יָלַע קֹדֶשׁ״. מַגְבִּיהַּ, עַבְדּוֹ, שָׁבַת – סִימָן. אָמַר רֵישׁ לָקִישׁ: הַמַּגְבִּיהַּ יָדוֹ עַל חֲבֵירוֹ, אַף עַל פִּי שֶׁלֹּא הִכָּהוּ, נִקְרָא רָשָׁע, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: ״וַיֹּאמֶר לָרָשָׁע לָמָּה תַכֶּה רֵעֶךָ״. ״לָמָּה הִכִּיתָ״ לֹא נֶאֱמַר, אֶלָּא ״לָמָּה תַכֶּה״ – אַף עַל פִּי שֶׁלֹּא הִכָּהוּ נִקְרָא רָשָׁע. אָמַר זְעֵירִי אָמַר רַבִּי חֲנִינָא: נִקְרָא חוֹטֵא, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: ״וְאִם לֹא לָקַחְתִּי בְחׇזְקָה״, וּכְתִיב: ״וַתְּהִי חַטַּאת הַנְּעָרִים גְּדוֹלָה מְאֹד״.

Even though this conversation is set specifically in the context of a gentile striking a Jew, it does bring up more universal ideas on what counts as an offense. Resh Lakish, who according to agaddah knew something about organized crime from personal experience, says that anyone who even lifts his arm to strike, before completing the offense, is already labeled רָשָׁע, evil. Z’eri cites Rabbi Hanina as relaxing the penalty some and merely labeling him as חוֹטֵא, a sinner. Lovers of substantive criminal law can parse this stuff in several different ways. One is the proposed distinction between an attempt and a completed offense, where the different labels represent different degrees of sentence severity. The other might mirror the common law definitions of assault and battery; assault does not involve an actual offensive touch, but is nevertheless a completed offense consisting of putting the victim in a state of realistic apprehension regarding the potential for violence. A third take could be that the terms רָשָׁע and חוֹטֵא refer merely to sentencing. And indeed, the next move involves the appropriate punishment. Rav Huna goes for a poetic punishment – he who lifts his arm will have his arm chopped off – and he gets there in a very creative way: Job 22:8 says, וְאִ֣ישׁ זְ֭רוֹעַ ל֣וֹ הָאָ֑רֶץ וּנְשׂ֥וּא פָ֝נִ֗ים יֵ֣שֶׁב בָּֽהּ׃ (“the land belongs to the strong.”) But Rav Huna reads it in a different way: the strong-armed person belongs in the earth. Rabbi El’azar seems to think that Rav Huna’s creativity is overrated, and that the verse should be understood literally as referring to the conquering of land, not to actually being buried in it.

We continue with the ambitious project of enforcing theoretical law on nonplussed foreigners in tomorrow’s page.

Blasphemy and Courtroom Decorum: b.Sanhedrin 56

There’s a terrific moment in the To Kill a Mockingbird trial in which Judge Taylor says:

There has been a request that this courtroom be cleared of spectators, or at least of women and children, a request that will be denied for the time being. People generally see what they look for, and hear what they listen for, and they have the right to subject their children to it, but I can assure you of one thing: You will receive what you see and hear in silence, or you will leave this courtroom, but you won’t leave it until the whole boiling lot of you come before me on contempt charges. Mr. Ewell, you will keep your testimony within the confines of Christian English usage, if that is possible.

The protective idea that some things are not fit for women and children to hear, that some things are unutterable in court, is not new. It’s interesting to wonder what it is that the court would have been concerned about. For one thing, there’s the potential that inflammatory stuff can skew and bias public opinions in ways that can undermine a fair trial, but that usually applies to pretrial stuff, when a jury hasn’t been impaneled yet; recently, following the Kohberger trial, I listened to a litany of complaints from media personalities who resent the fact that big chunks of the pretrial transcript and motions have been sealed. In that case, it was done to prevent fanning the flames of public opinion and polluting the jury pool. But what about content from the trial itself?

This is the topic of Sanhedrin 56, which blissfully interrupts the crass talk of yesterday’s daf to discuss procedure. We receive a lot of instruction about the use of euphemisms in open court. The mishna says:

בְּכׇל יוֹם דָּנִין אֶת הָעֵדִים בְּכִינּוּי, ״יַכֶּה יוֹסִי אֶת יוֹסִי״. נִגְמַר הַדִּין, לֹא [הָיוּ] הוֹרְגִין בְּכִינּוּי, אֶלָּא מוֹצִיאִין כׇּל אָדָם לַחוּץ. שׁוֹאֲלִין אֶת הַגָּדוֹל שֶׁבֵּינֵיהֶן וְאוֹמֵר לוֹ: ״אֱמוֹר מַה שֶׁשָּׁמַעְתָּ בְּפֵירוּשׁ״. וְהוּא אוֹמֵר, וְהַדַּיָּינִין עוֹמְדִין עַל רַגְלֵיהֶן וְקוֹרְעִין, וְלֹא מְאַחִין. וְהַשֵּׁנִי אוֹמֵר: ״אַף אֲנִי כָּמוֹהוּ״, וְהַשְּׁלִישִׁי אוֹמֵר: ״אַף אֲנִי כָּמוֹהוּ״.

In other words, at a blasphemy trial, when describing what they heard, the witnesses are supposed to use the euphemism Yosei for God, because YOSE and YHVH both have four letters. The court is then emptied, only one witness repeats the explicit stuff, and the others say, “me too,” as not to compound the offense. The judges tear their garments in mourning, to make it performatively clear that the court (and the witness) are not complicit with the blasphemy.

They now turn to discuss the elements of blasphemy: is it merely uttering the name or cursing it. A long intertextual journey proceeds, which riffs off the root נקב, which can mean to punch a hole or to spell out something explicitly. The reliance on the double meaning of the root is pretty ingenious, because the argument then goes like this: you can only punch a hole once–just like you can only utter one version of the explicit divine name–whereas you can curse many times (meaning, the use of נקב is the equivalent of uttering the name). But then, another sage says, but you could use two different sacred names – it’s like repeated punching. Another principle of interpretive logic is that the biblical text says, “oust the curser” (הוֹצֵא אֶת הַמְקַלֵּל), rather than “oust the utterer and the curser” (הוֹצֵא אֶת הַנֹּקֵב וְהַמְקַלֵּל), implying that in this context נקב and קלל mean the same thing.

Then, they address something I would have never thought would be an issue: whether non-Jews can also be criminally prosecuted for blasphemy. My two cents: this makes no sense! It’s not their god! But the sages are preoccupied with the fact that many biblical sources use the term אִישׁ (man) in a universal sense, to apply to any person of any religion or ethnicity. Rabbi Miyasha deduces this principle from the use of the term כַּגֵּר כָּאֶזְרָח (the rule for the foreigner is the same as the rule for the citizen). Rabbi Meir, however, says that this equation only applies to converts, not to foreigners. Interestingly, even those who think that the blasphemy prohibition applies to foreigners, distinguish in terms of the sentence.

Which is a good segue for the rabbis to move on to discuss other obligations that bind people universally, not all Jews – mainly issues stemming from the Seven Mitzvot of the Sons of Noah. The rabbis expound upon, and expand, the reach of these requirements, drawing some boundaries between Jewish specific issues (e.g., the right to wear objects from two types of textile) and universal issues (such as kicking one’s wife out of the house). The distinctions ring a lot like the modern distinctions between mala in se and mala prohibita, except for a universal prohibition on witchcraft, particularly seances and child sacrifice. The argument goes back to Adam, who was under the sole prohibition of refraining from idol worship.

To end on a jovial note, the recently late Yehonatan Geffen has a fantastic novel called Milk Teeth, in which he describes his childhood in the Nahalal village. The opening scene sees the protagonist, a school boy, use the word “Jehovah” in school and being called into the principal’s office, or the teacher’s lounge, where the teachers excitedly discuss his transgression to his face, incessantly repeating, “he said Jehovah! He said Jehovah!” The only secular equivalent I can think of is the person who “replies all” to an email, saying, “please do not reply all.”

A Rare Moment of Good Taste: b.Sanhedrin 55

Yesterday’s daf, and the one that preceded it, saw the sages hard at work getting into the nitty gritty details of various behaviors they saw as sexual perversions meriting stoning. Today’s page continues in this vein, and honestly, I’m going to spare you all the details of the first few insights on the topic, which I read so that you don’t have to. Suffice to say, there’s some conversation comparing the sentences for attempted sexual assault to completed sexual assault, and the distinctions they make are everything you would expect from a group of old men debating this in a particularly crass locker room circa 400 CE. But then there’s a rare moment of redemptive good taste:

בְּעָא מִינֵּיהּ רַב אַחָדְבוּי בַּר אַמֵּי מֵרַב שֵׁשֶׁת: הַמְעָרֶה בְּעַצְמוֹ, מַהוּ? אֲמַר לֵיהּ: קְבַסְתַּן!

In other words, Rav Aḥadevoi bar Ami asked Rav Sheshet about the appropriate sentence for someone who attempts to engage in sexual activity with himself, and Rav Sheshet exclaims: Ewwwww! You’re gross! You make me barf! Not to worry, this refined sentiment fades fast, and they get straight to it (namely, whether it is possible, and how, etc.) Amazingly, the scenario that grossed Rav Sheshet out is pretty tame compared to all the other scenarios floated about and expounded upon in this daf, but I was encouraged to see a brief respite from the locker room talk.

One thing that did catch my eye about this daf, without too much elaboration, is that abusing animals here is not seen through the lens of צער בעלי חיים – the care for the animal’s pain and suffering – but through the lens of defilement, where the poor animal is being portrayed as complicit. The question arises whether, when a person is stoned to death for abusing an animal, the animal itself must also be killed–and not as euthanasia to prevent further suffering, but:

שֶׁלֹּא תְּהֵא בְּהֵמָה עוֹבֶרֶת בַּשּׁוּק וְיֹאמְרוּ: ״זוֹ הִיא שֶׁנִּסְקַל פְּלוֹנִי עַל יָדָהּ״.

You see, they don’t want the poor animal to pass through the market and to have people say, “this is the animal due to which so-and-so was stoned.”

You’ll forgive me, but I think I’m pretty done with Sanhedrin 55. We’ll continue with this tomorrow.