Massekhet Keritot: Text, Translation,and Commentary. A Feminist Commentary on the Babylonian Talmud V/9. By Federico Dal Bo, Tübingen, 2013, pp. 487
ISBN 978-3-16-152661-9

 

Keritot is certainly one of the most obscure tractates of the Mishnah and the Bavli, dealing with 36 mostly sexual transgressions mentioned in the Bible punishable with karet„"excision," if committed deliberately. Its main interest is in inadvertent or doubtful transgressions and the obligation of bringing sacrifices depending on the circumstances of the transgression. Many cases discussed in the tractate are theoretical and sometimes even bizarre, intellectual exercises with no practical implication. For this reason, apart from the traditional commentaries the tractate has never received much attention. The present "feminist commentary" on the tractate is therefore highly welcome. Given the characteristics of the tractate, the philosophical approach chosen by Dal Bo (deconstruction), combined with the "Brisker method" of talmudic analysis, established by the Soloveitchik dynasty from Brisk, seems to be a promising and adequate choice.

After an extensive introduction to the tractate and the commentary, dealing, among other aspects, with the textual tradition and its linguistic characteristics, Dal Bo first offers a commentary on the Mishnah, presenting the standard Hebrew text with its parallels in the Tosefta and a translation. This is followed by a thorough discussion of all gender-relevant aspects, beginning with the diverse prohibitions of incest, pointing, among other things, to the strange fact that a daughter's abuse by her father escapes the text's attention: "he does not damage the property of someone else; he spoils his own property, since she loses her virginity" (57). Equally omitted is female homosexuality, since women, "according to the rabbis, are not active partners in erotic relations and sexual intercourse" (59). Such observations abound in the commentary and contribute to its interest. This concentration on gender-relevant aspects sometimes leads to over-interpretations. Thus, for example at m. Ker. 2:2 that "whoever has intercourse with a maidservant," has to bring a sacrifice: "On the one hand, a maidservant may be object of sexual desire by her master. Yet, his reputation has to be preserved unscathed. On the other hand, the possibility that a male slave may be the object of his master (or mistress) is implicitly excluded. Both these presuppositions ... confirm the stigmatisation off male homosexuality and offer a favourable vision of male sexual desire when directed to a socially weak woman such as a maidservant" (83).

The main part of the volume is, of course, a detailed commentary on the text of the Bavli. It follows the general lines of the preceding commentary on the Mishnah. It pays close attention to parallels in the Sifra and other rabbinic texts, sometimes presented in a synopsis (see 222-23). The Wilna edition is used as the main text of the Bavli, but selected textual variants in the manuscripts are noted even when they are hardly gender-relevant. A Geniza fragment studied by Yoav Rosenthal in his dissertation on the textual tradition of tractate Keritot (Jerusalem 2003) is reproduced in its entirety because of its linguistic aspects and because of some variants which might be considered relevant in a feminist commentary. This textual analysis might have been reduced to its basic elements; other discussions in the commentary are also sometimes more expansive than necessary and could have been shortened, sometimes even omitted. But one may be grateful for all the riches included in this volume.

In details, criticism is always possible. That Sifra "was primarily conceived as a handbook for priests in the Temple" (17) takes over a highly problematic thesis of L. Finkelstein. The statement that polygyny "was probably tol erated at the time of the Mishnah" (n8), and that the gradual preference for monogamy "strengthened over time, probably under Christian influence" (119), would have to be nuanced. I do not see how John 3:5 maintains "Mary's experi­ence of a 'dry birth' ... in which Jesus was born with no blood being spilled" (265). The discussion of a woman called a "vessel" is interesting, as are also the consequences of this idea on the purity or not of the mother's milk; but how does this impact the baby that generally cannot become impure (241-47)? Many similar questions arise when reading the book, and show how interesting even a text as Keritot becomes through a commentary as that of Dal Bo.

In general, the translations offered by Dal Bo are reliable. But in Mek. Rab. Y. Bahodesh 7:5, "but not this commandment itself" (7) should be replaced by "including this commandment itself." In Sifra Hova 19:2 he translates "sacrifice" where the text has mitzvah, and omits the following be-'arakhin (290 ); miggo occurs in the Yerushalmi not only in B. Bat. 2:9, but also in Ros Haš. 4:7 (329 n. 7); the last phrase of the Hebrew text of b. Pesah. 88b has not been translated (419). The volume would have deserved a thorough proof-reading: misprints abound; the English is not always correct.

F. Dal Bo has written a very comprehensive commentary on most aspects of Bavli Keritot. His thoroughly philosophical approach to the text, combined with philological precision and attention to every detail of the text, make the most of a difficult tractate. His book is not always easy to read, but is worth the effort. Congratulations.

 

Günter Stemberger

Universität Wien

Journal for the Study of Judaism 46 (2015) 131-157

 

A Feminist Commentary on the Babylonian Talmud: Introduction and Studies
Ed. by Tal Ilan, Tamara Or, Dorothea M. Salzer, Christiane Steuer and Irina Wandrey
Mohr Siebeck, Tübingen, 2007, 324 pages
ISBN 978-3-16-149522-9

This is the first volume of a long-term project: A Feminist Commentary on the Babylonian Talmud. Of the sixty-three tractates of the Mishnah, thirty-seven have commentaries in the Babylonian Talmud (Bavli). Some tractates are devoted to issues directly associated with women, such as Ketubbot, dealing with marriage contracts, and Gittin, with divorce. Other tractates seemingly have very little to do with women, such as Zevahim, dealing with sacrifice, or Makkot, dealing with corporal punishment. However, none of the tractates of the Mishnah and/or the Bavli (and the rest of the rabbinic corpus, for that matter) is devoid of women or of gender issues. The project seeks to expose the tractates of the Babylonian Talmud to feminist scrutiny, to identify those texts that are of relevance to gender issues, and to interpret and comment on those talmudic gender issues.
Before dealing with the present introductory volume to the project, a few words on the projected format of the commentary are in order. (1) Each tractate will be assigned to different scholars, who will be expected to elaborate upon her or his gendered outlook of the tractate in a detailed introduction. The scholar is autonomous in terms of methodologies: talmudic, feminist-gender, and any other relevant approach. While the general theme may be feminist, the individual volumes will perforce reflect many different approaches. (2) After the introduction, each volume will present a running commentary on relevant texts of the Mishnah and then of the Bavli. Sometimes relevant texts might be easy to identify, while in other cases it will be the personal proclivity of the scholar that might identify this or that relevant text. Sometimes the “absence” of gendered texts in Bavli but appearing in parallel texts will be of importance. (3) The textus receptus of the Mishnah is the Albeck edition, and that of the Bavli is the Vilna edition. This may raise some eyebrows in philological circles, but the editors and authors are fully aware of the requirements of talmudic philology and will provide relevant variant readings when necessary. (4) The Hebrew/Aramaic texts will be followed by a translation that will display gender sensitivity. The translation may be based on the work of previous translation, with the necessary corrections, or it may be the personal translation of the author. (5) Mishnah will be read together with the Tosefta and Bavli together with the Yerushalmi (Jerusalem [or Palestinian] Talmud). This is of great importance and widens the scope of the project. It is also clear from the above that, despite some type of general attempt at uniformity, the project allows for a good deal of editorial independence both in terms of talmudics and feminist study and theory. Independence, however, should not become a synonym for “uneven,” the underlying danger of too much independence in a multivolume long-term project.
The present volume serves as an introduction to the entire series as well as to Seder Mo‘ed, the second order of Mishnah, which deals with Sabbath and Jewish festivals, the most Jewish of the orders of the Mishnah, according to Tal Ilan in her introduction, because it clearly defines activity areas that distinguish a Jew from a gentile. Festivals are decisive in establishing a person’s Jewish identity, and Mo‘ed is also the most public of all the orders and thus, according to Ilan, an excellent order to begin the project, offering much material for a broad discussion of gender issues.
In order to conceptualize the project, a number of scholars were invited to participate in a conference convened in Berlin in spring 2006 under the title “They Also Participated in the Miracle.” Their contributions form the substance of the book, and, as in the case of the projected series, these contributions examine various Mo‘ed issues from a variety of different talmudic and gender perspectives. As is often the case, though, in conference volumes, the connective thread sometimes is rather weak. A variety of approaches, while sometimes academically healthy, can also result in an “uneven” volume in terms of scholarship. I shall provide two examples.
Both Shulamith Valler (“Women and Dwelling in the Sukkah in the Bavli,” 151–67) and Cynthia M. Baker (“The Queen, the Apostate, and the Women Between: [Dis]Placement of Women in Tosefta Sukkah,” 169–81) deal with women in the sukkah in tractate Sukkah and with some of the same sources. Both, for instance, deal with the sukkah of Queen Helene mentioned in t. Sukkah 1:1 and parallels. Queen Helene of Adiabene was a very real person mentioned in Josephus (Ant. 20.17–96) and in a number of rabbinic traditions, which surprisingly never mention the fact that she was a proselyte.¹ Helene’s sukkah was higher than 20 cubits, seemingly in contradiction with m. Sukkah 1:1, which stated that s sukkah higher than 20 cubits was invalid. The sages, however, visited the sukkah and did not comment to her regarding this problem. Perhaps this was because she was a woman and technically exempt in any case from the obligation of the sukkah (m. Sukkah 2:8)? But she had sons, and they used this sukkah and certainly were not exempt; thus, the height of the sukkah is a problem.
The articles are very different in their methodologies. Valler is “old school” in terms of her talmudics and understanding of the background and underlying historicity of the traditions. The tannaitic traditions that she discusses depict a social and halakic reality that prevailed. There is development, and the different traditions, analyzed for similarities and differences, reflect different historical periods and different understandings of those periods by later sages of the Bavli. Valler, who has long studied women in talmudic literature, presents a discussion that is a modern, updated, and fine-tuned version of classic “Jerusalem School.” The nature of the quest for the “historical kernel” may have changed over the course of the decades, but that kernel is still there lurking in some form or another and can be discovered through impeccable talmudic methodology (of the Jerusalem School, of course).² In the end, there are real social-historical results. In Valler’s view, the Bavli ultimately rejects the exemption of women from the sukkah, and toward the end of the talmudic period women built their own sukkot and sat in especially designed family sukkot, separated from or together with male family members.
With Cynthia Baker we are in another universe: the realm of legend, folk imagination, and “memory” and displacement. In earlier times women dwelt in sukkot as a matter of course, but upon closer examination, these were “rabbinically contrived sukkot” and were “extraordinary.” Regarding Helene’s sukkah, Baker states that she “dwells in the midst of her sukkah as a monarch in a palace or even—dare we say it?—like a presence in a Temple (with proto-rabbis, rather than priests, in attendance).” Baker claims that the temple comparison is implicit in the text: Helene’s sukkah, in excess of 20 cubits high, “stands higher than the gate of the Jerusalem Temple.” Baker then cites t. ‘Eruvin 1:1 that “[A beam across an] alleyway which is higher than twenty cubits—higher than the gate of the Temple.…” Indeed, taking the two traditions in tandem, Helene’s sukkah was monumental, and the reader might have connected the two.z³ It should be pointed out, however, that the text in ‘Eruvin reads pitho, which probably is better translated “entrance” or “entranceway” than gate, and there are more problems with her interpretation.
Baker does not do justice to the text in Sukkah because she refrains from going into detail regarding the temple and the height of its component parts. The real temple was clearly a much greater structure in height than Helene’s sukkah. Josephus states that the height of the Herodian façade was 100 cubits (B.J. 5.207) and that the internal height of the sanctuary was 60 cubits (5.215). This, however, is not enough to belie Baker’s point. One might argue that Josephus is irrelevant to the rabbinic tradition here; after all, it says what it says, and it says 20 cubits. However, m. Middot 3:7 says that the height of the (external) façade (= of the Porch = ulam) was 40 cubits. The 20 cubits of t. ‘Eruvin relates to m. Middot 4:1, which also mentions pitho of the sanctuary ( = heikhal), but it is clearly stated in that Mishnah that this “entrance” or “entranceway” refers to the height of doors of the entrance to the sanctuary. These were indeed 20 cubits high, according to the rabbis, but only half the height of the façade.⁴ Mishnah Tamid 3:7–8 and Middot 4:2 indeed mention a Great Gate (sha`ar, not petah) but do not describe its height.
One can indeed quibble over whether a commentary would need to go into such detail (obviously the author of this review thinks so), but in any case, a reader of t. Sukkah would hardly automatically relate to the tradition in t. ‘Eruvin because the height of the façade visible, according to rabbinic literature, would have been 40 cubits, and as we have just seen, there are so many seemingly conflicting traditions that it is impossible to know what would have been inherent in the mind of the reader of t. Sukkah. Moreover, the point of t. ‘Eruvin is architectural. In order for the beam to be effective in an ‘eruv, it could not be higher than 20 cubits, the internal (!) height of the sanctuary doors. The same architectural principle seems to exist regarding the architectural-halakic restriction on the height of the sukkah. Baker may have a nice point, but it does not seem to be implicit in the text and in the details. Helene, though, did indeed have a monumental sukkah.
We should also like to discuss one matter of ideology. As mentioned above, the editors of the various volumes will be free to choose their own approach. Tal Ilan in her introduction cites as examples of legitimate approaches “literary, theological, philosophical, ideological, political or historical.” One approach that is missing is “archaeological” or its related fields of material culture and talmudic realia, and indeed none of the studies in this volume make use of these methodologies.⁵
Thus, Charlotte E. Fonrobert’s otherwise excellent article on the ‘eruv and the politics of neighborhood (“Gender Politics in the Rabbinic Neighborhood: Tractate Eruvin,” 43–60) might have been enriched if we actually understood what a “neighborhood” or courtyard looked like. Understanding women as the facilitators of peace in a neighborhood might be related to the physical mechanics of neighborhood. It is also likely that these talmudic discussions can only be really understood in light of the realia of the time and the differences between neighborhood in Palestine and Babylonia, between rural and urban neighborhoods. The ‘eruv might have been a legal fiction, but it had a great impact on many real or physical activities. Likewise, Tamara Or’s discussion of women as “prime actors in food preparation” (“Why Don’t We Say Anything to Them?” [bBes 30a]: Women in Massekhet Betsah,” 183–96) might be better served if we understood some of the physical reality regarding the role of women in food preparation and the venue of these activities; the same can be said for Judith Hauptman’s study on women in Tractate Pesahim (“From the Kitchen to the Dining-Room: Women and Ritual Activities in Tractate Pesahim,” 109–26). The Mishnah and Tosefta, Hauptman’s major concerns, certainly did not operate in a vacuum. Tal Ilan’s study on dance (“Dance and Gender in Massekhet Ta‘anit,” 217–25), might benefit from the extensive work of Yosef Garfinkel on dance in ancient agricultural society, even if the thrust of his work is prehistoric.⁶
The irony of all this is that other disciples studying the literatures and history of the ancient world have already understood that the complexities of social relations, dependencies, and needs, to cite just a few issues, may often be extracted from the study of physical remains. Gender archaeology and feminist archaeology are legitimate and accepted fields of study and helpful in numerous other fields, and while there is as of yet no real systematic feminist study of talmudic realia, perhaps this series might take steps in that direction.⁷

Joshua Schwartz Bar-Ilan University Ramat-Gan, Israel
in Review of Biblical Literature, May 2009


¹ See Tal Ilan, Mine and Yours Are Hers: Retrieving Women’s History from Rabbinic Literature (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 189, 280–82.
² See Isaiah Gafni, “Rabbinic Historiography and Representations of the Past,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Talmud and Rabbinic Literature (ed. Charlotte Elisheva Fonrobert and Martin S. Jaffee; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 295–312.
³ The cubit has been defined as being anywhere from .43 to .56 of a meter. See Yehoshua Peleg, “The Reconstruction of the Herodian Temple Compound in the Temple Mount” [Hebrew] (Ph.D. diss., Bar-Ilan University, 2007), 45–58. My personal preference is the maximum.
⁴ According to Josephus, the height of these doors was 55 cubits (B.J. 5.212).
⁵ See, in general, Joshua J. Schwartz, “The Material Realities of Jewish Life in the Land of Israel, c.235–638,” in The Late Roman-Rabbinic Period (ed. Steven T. Katz; CHJ 4; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 431–56 and the bibliography cited ad loc. On the courtyard, including “neighborhood allegiance,” see 434–35. For a good understanding of the physical make-up of the neighborhood see, e.g., Shimon Dar, Zeev Safrai and Yigael Tepper, Um Rihan: A Village of the Mishnah [Hebrew] (Tel-Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1986).
⁶ Yosef Garfinkel, Dance at the Dawn of Agriculture (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2003).
⁷ See, e.g., the volume of Sarah Milledge Nelson, best known for her work on East Asia, Gender in Archaeology: Analyzing Power and Prestige (Walnut Creek, Calif.: AltaMira, 1997). See also Diotima: Materials for the Study of Women and Gender in the Ancient World.

A Feminist Commentary on the Babylonian Talmud: Introduction and Studies
Ed. by Tal Ilan, Tamara Or, Dorothea M. Salzer, Christiane Steuer and Irina Wandrey
Mohr Siebeck, Tübingen, 2007, 324 pages
ISBN 978-3-16-149522-9

Die Pilotnummer eines ebenso aufwendigen wie anspruchsvollen und innovativen Unternehmens liegt vor, zu dem die Initiatorinnen zu beglückwünschen sind: eine verlegerisch in Tübingen betreute und von der Deutschen Forschungsgemeinschaft finanzierte Kommentarreihe, die einerseits in gewisser Weise an hergebrachte jüdische Erklärungen anknüpft, alles seither in Tradition und Wissenschaft Vorhandene – selbst den feministischen Companion to the Bible von Athalya Brenner (Sheffield 1993-2000) – aber von den Dimensionen her weit übersteigt und revolutioniert: ein feministischer Kommentar zum gesamten Babylonischen Talmud mit seinen 37 Traktaten. Die Herausgeberinnen legen mit diesem Band, der auf eine von der Thyssen-Stiftung unterstützte Tagung vom Mai 2006 in Berlin zurückgeht, eine programmatische Einführung sowie eine Aufsatzsammlung mit fünfzehn feministischen Studien zur Ordnung „Mo´ed“ („Festzeit“) vor. Die einleitenden Ausführungen von Tal Ilan lassen dabei von Anfang an keinen Zweifel daran, dass es diesem Projekt um mehr geht als um die Propagierung eines Textverständnisses „aus Parteisicht“. Dies nicht nur, weil die Reihe Vertreterinnen und Vertretern unterschiedlicher Forschungsrichtungen (von der Literarkritik bis zur Sozialgeschichte und den Ansätzen, die man gelegentlich unter den post-colonial studies zusammenfasst) offenstehen soll, sondern vor allem, weil das Konzept sich dem Sachverhalt stellt, dass die behandelte Materie einen Zugang erfordert, der über den klassischen Feminismus hinausgeht und offen ist für eine umfassende Perspektive auf Fragen des sozial konstruierten Geschlechts („gender“). Dieser „Überschuss“ über den herkömmlichen Feminismus wird bei Texten des rabbinischen Judentums schon anhand der Tatsache deutlich, dass hier die bekannte „gegenderte“ Unterteilung von privatem und öffentlichem Raum, die Männern die Sphäre des öffentlichen Agierens und Frauen den häuslichen Binnenraum zuweist, tendenziell umgekehrt ist, wobei freilich gefragt werden kann, inwieweit diese „Tendenz“ jeweils auf einer ideologischen Zuschreibung oder auf der sozialen Realität beruht. Da jüdische Frauen vom Studium der Tora ausgeschlossen waren, kam es zu einer Segregation der Männer im Lehrhaus, während den Frauen die ökonomische Aktivität auf dem Marktplatz vorbehalten blieb und es Anzeichen dafür gibt, dass die Männer in dieser Hinsicht sogar von ihnen abhängig waren. Forscher wie Jacob Neusner („Androgynous Judaism“) haben diesem Befund eine positive Deutung gegeben oder – wie Daniel Boyarin („Unheroic Conduct“) – die Schlussfolgerung gezogen, dass Genderfragen in der jüdischen Geschichte nie losgelöst von der Untersuchung antijudaistischer Traditionen behandelt werden dürfen: „(T)he oppression of the Jews often took the form of ridiculing Jewish men as feminine“ (S. 9). Auf der anderen Seite unterliegt die Tora-Bezogenheit der Männer in den zu untersuchenden Texten natürlich theologischen Wertungen, wie Judith Plaskow („Und wieder stehen wir am Sinai“) im Anschluss an die Sinaiperikope deutlich gemacht hat: Ist dem göttlichen Befehl in Ex 19,15 („seid bereit für den dritten Tag, und keiner rühre eine Frau an“) zu entnehmen, dass Frauen nach der traditionellen Interpretation beim Offenbarungsereignis nicht zugegen waren? Dem Ausschluß der Frauen scheint einerseits die in der Ordnung Mo´ed dreimal (bShab 23a; bPes 108b; bMeg 4a) wiederholte Devise „auch sie waren bei diesem Wunder“ entgegenzustehen, mit der die Teilnahme von Frauen an jüdischen Festritualen gerechtfertigt wird. Andererseits bestätigt dieser Satz indirekt jedenfalls die männliche Präsenz als „Normalfall“. In der Einleitung folgt eine Darlegung der editorischen Grundsätze der geplanten Reihe: jeder Traktat soll mit einer hermeneutisch-methodologischen Einleitung versehen und nach Mischna und Gemara gegliedert fortlaufend übersetzt und kommentiert werden, wobei das relevante Material jeweils mit den Paralleltexten der Midraschliteratur und des Jerusalemer Talmuds verglichen werden soll. Ob das für die Kommentarreihe eigens eingeführte Zitationssystem (S. 16) sich im Laufe der Arbeit bewährt – schlechte Erfahrungen mit den Sonderzitationen Neusner lassen nichts Gutes ahnen –, wird sich erweisen. Insgesamt ist das Projekt auf geradezu atemberaubende Weise ambitioniert, aber zugleich verheissungsvoll, zumal die Aufsätze im Hauptteil des Bandes durchweg auf hohem Niveau daherkommen und anregend zu lesen sind. Die Beiträge von Charlotte Fonrobert („Gender Politics in the Rabbinic Neighborhood: Tractate Eruvin“, S. 43-59), Judith Hauptman („From Kitchen to the Dining-Room: Women and Ritual Activities in Tractate Pesahim“, S. 109 – 126), Shulamit Valler („Woman and Dwelling in the Sukkah in the Bavli, S. 151-167“), Tamara Or („Women in Massekhet Betsah“, S. 183-196), Tal Ilan („Dance and Gender in Massekhet Ta´anit“, S. 217-225) und Judith R. Baskin („Erotic Subversion: Undermining Female Agency in bMegillah 10b-17a“, S. 227-244) sind dabei als Vorstudien zu den von den jeweiligen Autorinnen übernommenen Kommentarbänden zu verstehen. Die Reihe soll demnach mit der Ordnung Mo´ed beginnen und auch den Yerushalmi-Traktat Sheqalim einschließen, da dieser in der Wilnaer Edition des Talmuds enthalten ist und daher in gewisser Weise als kanonisch gilt.
Ergänzende Studien zu Einzelfragen runden das Bild ab; exemplarisch zu nennen sind hier nur die Texte von Catherine Hezser („Passover and Social Equality: Women, Slaves and Minors in Bavli Pesahim“, S. 91-108) und Adiel Schremer („For Whom is Marriage a Happiness: mMo´ed Qatan 1,7, and a Roman Parallel“, S. 289 - 305). Im letztgenannten Aufsatz vergleicht der an der israelischen Bar-Ilan-Universität lehrende Forscher die Beobachtung Plutarchs, dass Jungfrauen im Gegensatz zu Witwen oder geschiedenen Frauen nicht an öffentlichen Feiertagen heirateten, weil es sich für Jungfrauen nicht um einen fröhlichen Anlass handele und Feiertagstrauer nach römischer Sitte nicht angebracht sei, mit der in seinem Titel genannten Mischnastelle. Das Ergebnis des Vergleichs ist „a better appreciation of the androcentrism of early rabbinic discourse“ (S. 290), die von allen apologetischen Anwandlungen freie Feststellung, dass die rabbinischen Autoren des Mischnatextes, im Vergleich mit Plutarch, ein besonderes Interesse an den Empfindungen des Bräutigams zeigen, aber die Gefühle der Frauen unberücksichtigt lassen. Klaus Herrmann (“Massekhet Hagigah and Reform Judaism”, S. 245 – 268), der den Band zum in Titel seines Beitrages genannten Traktat beisteuern soll und in diesem Zusammenhang Untersuchungen zur Frauenrolle in der jüdischen Mystik ankündigt, geht der Diskussion über den Status der Frau im deutschen Reformjudentum des 19. Jahrhunderts nach. Sein Beitrag beschäftigt sich mit den Versuchen unterschiedlicher Reformrabbiner, die Aufwertung der Frauenrolle aus der jüdischen Tradition zu begründen – ein Unternehmen, das mit Regina Jonas, der Verfasserin der Schrift „Können Frauen Rabbiner werden?“, zu seinem Höhepunkt und Ende kommt. Der Erinnerung an Regina Jonas, die 1935 als Rabbinerin ordiniert und 1944 von den Nazis in Auschwitz ermordet wurde, ist der gesamte Band gewidmet.
Die Studie von Tirza Meacham (leBeit Yoreh) behandelt den Fall einer Witwe, die – weil kinderlos – als yevama religionsrechtlich für die Leviratsehe bestimmt ist, als Menstruierende zu einem gegebenen Zeitpunkt aber nicht die Ehe vollziehen darf. Wenn der heiratswillige Schwager über den Zustand der rituellen Unreinheit der Frau im Unklaren ist, kann es zu einer Normenkollision kommen, die im Traktat Pesahim ausführlich behandelt wird, wenn es dort aus dem Munde Rabbi Yohanans heisst (vgl. S. 145): „Wenn ein Mann mit seiner menstruierenden Frau Verkehr hat, ist er schuldig, wenn er mit seiner menstruierenden yevama Verkehr hat, ist er nicht schuldig.“ Die Autorin benennt das im deutschen Recht unter der Rubrik „Verbotsirrtum“ genau bezeichnete und bekannte juristische Problem terminologisch etwas unpräzise als „misconstrued mitsva“ (vgl. S. 134ff). Es ist ein Irrtum, die englische Sprache für geeigneter als die deutsche zur Beschreibung rechtlicher und philosophischer Probleme zu halten, und die Vorstellung, Abraham Geiger habe in einem „Scientific Journal of Jewish Theology“ geschrieben (S. 251) wirkt genauso komisch wie die Tatsache, dass auf manchen Seiten die Fussnoten eher den Varianten der englischen Bibelübersetzung der Jewish Publication Society als den textlichen Problemen des Bavli gewidmet sind (z.B. S. 200-204). In diesem Zusammenhang kann sich der Rezensent eine Bemerkung nicht verkneifen: Wenn im Rahmen dieses DFG-Projekts Mittel vorhanden sind  (die Reihe – diesen Eindruck erweckt die Einführung – soll wohl nur auf Englisch erscheinen), um Texte von Nicht-Angelsachsen in korrekte Form zu bringen (dass gleichzeitig Fakultätsbürokratien über die Schmerzgrenze hinaus Stellen kürzen, ist natürlich weder der DFG noch den Kommentatorinnen anzulasten), so ist dies symptomatisch für den Status und die Perspektive der Geisteswissenschaften in Deutschland.

Matthias Morgenstern, Tübingen
in Judaica, 2009



Massekhet Tanit: Text, Translation, and Commentary. (A Feminist Commentary on the Babylonian Talmud 11/9). By Tal l1an. Tiibingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008, pp. x, 340
€89.00. ISBN 978-3-16-149524-3.

This volume is the first in a projected multi-volume feminist commentary on the Babylonian Talmud (Bavll). l1an, who is both the author of this volume and the coordinator of the project, has set herself and her collaborators the task of creating a commentary that treats "all texts relevant to women or gender" as well as "texts where women are conspicuously missing" in the Mishnah and the Bavti. She acknowledges that the second half of this task is particularly subjective and will vary from volume to volume as the commentary expands to other tractates prepared by different scholars.
The volume opens with a general introduction to m. Manit, as well as methodological and feminist introductions. It then offers an analysis of approximately eleven of the mishnayot in Manit, those that the author feels touch upon matters of gender. The bulk of the volume comprises detailed analyses of passages from b.Tanit; again, the author has chosen to focus on those passages that deal with women or gender.
Although all of the volumes in this project will employ a feminist perspective, llan expects each author to employ methods that he or she finds particularly interesting. l1an focuses heavily on comparing Mishnah and Bavli texts to parallels in the Tosefta, Yerushalmi, and, to a lesser degree, tannaitic and amoraic collections of midrash. She then offers observations on the material, including lexical inquiries and consideration of manuscript traditions, rabbinic expansion of biblical stories, and rabbinic historiography. Her methodological and feminist introductions provide the reader with a clear sense of the project's assumptions and parameters.
Since llan frames her work as a feminist commentary, the first question a reviewer must address is: Does the use of a feminist lens add to our understanding and appreciation of the Mishnah and the Bavli, and if so, how? There is no question that l1an's work invites the reader to consider Massekhet Manit in new ways. Her comments on the opening sugya of the tractate (66-70) consider the language used in the Mishnah and the Bavli to discuss rain, underscoring the similarities between rainfall and sexual intercourse. This comparison, l1an suggests, is heightened by Rabbi Yohanan's observation that God holds the keys to both rain and pregnancy. In a later discussion (259-264), l1an considers the feminization of the bat qot, the heavenly voice that often delivers divine messages in rabbinic literature. These are only two examples of the commentary's consideration of topics not often found in other Talmud commentaries, whether premodern or modern.
Feminist analysis of the Bavli is usually limited to a sugya or several sugyot brought together in a scholarly or popular work. Such analysis is likely to be found in works that are topic-oriented rather than in the form of extended commentary on a tractate. Most Talmud commentaries, unless they are dealing with Seder Nashim, ignore gender issues, regarding them as peripheral. llan places gender at the center of her work. B. Ttzanit 24b-25a includes stories about Rabbi Hanina ben Dosa, a noted miracle-worker; these stories feature not only Hanina, but his wife, daughter and a female neighbor. While other commentaries focus on the rabbi as miracle-worker, mentioning the women only in passing, l1an discusses the trop of the female neighbor in rabbinic literature, the shifting impressions the Bavli offers of Hanina's wife, and the significance of a story featuring a daughter rather than a son.
Given the dearth of English-language, scholarly treatments of Talmud tractates, it is worth asking whether this volume could also function as a general introduction or commentary to Massekhet Ta'anit. l1an does not intend her work to be a comprehensive commentary on Mishnah or Bavli Ta'anit; her work does not discuss every mishnah or every sugya in the tractate. Nevertheless, the opening section serves as an excellent introduction to the tractate for the English speaker. llan offers a philological analysis of the name of the tractate and discusses fasting and selfmonification in the Bible. She also considers the climate of the Land of Israel, explaining the importance of rain to the population. She provides a chapterby- chapter overview of the Mishnah, including in her summary topics that will not be analyzed in the commentary. Her bibliography is extensive, demonstrating familiarity with both general and feminist discussions of rabbinic and cognate literature. l1an's treatment of sugyot where women are mentioned bring women and gender to the forefront without ignoring or minimizing other characteristics of the text. The discussion of Rabbi Hanina ben Dosa, while emphasizing the role played in the stories by various women, provides the reader with important information about the rabbi and his place in rabbinic literature. It also considers the editorial decision to place stories about Hanina ben Dosa that do not involve rain-the primary theme of the miracle stories in Ta'anit-in the tractate.
The one drawback to the volume is the decision to include a bibliography at the end of each chapter. This involves needless repetition, as many works are cited in multiple chapters. It also makes an excellent bibliography harder to use. This volume serves as a model for feminist inquiries into rabbinic literature, offering readers a rich selection of gender-related insights along with a plethora of other valuable information. While primarily of interest to those interested in gender issues in rabbinics and ancient Judaism, this work provides anyone interested in contemporary Talmud scholarship with a useful commentary to Taanit. llan has set a high standard for her collaborators and given her readers much to look forward to in future volumes.


Dvora E. Weisberg
in Review of Books / Journal of the Study of Judaism, 40 (2009) 366-456

The Rain in Baylon: An unexpected interrogation of the Talmud

 Massekhet Taanit (Mohr Siebeck, €89.00), is the inaugural volume in a new series of scholarly feminist analyses of each of the tractates of the Babylonian Talmud. Taanit, the tractate that is the subject of this volume by Tal Ilan, deals with ritual fasting, usually in a case when rain fails to fall.
Taanit, which literally means “fast,” seems at first to be a surprising choice for feminist analysis; why not begin with any of the various tractates that deal directly with women´s issue, such as Ketubot (marriage contracts) or Niddah (menstrual impurity)? Yet as Ilan compellingly demonstrates, the central metaphor that runs through this tractate is highly gendered: the rabbis use the term “copulation” (rvia) to describe rainfall. Rain is overtly compared to a male (Ilan aptly translates the Talmud phrase as “virile rain”) and the land, of course, is always female. Moreover, the rabbis of the Talmud explicitly compare the land under rainfall to a woman in the act of sexual intercourse, which reflects another common Talmud metaphor in which a woman is the fertile field in which a man deposits his seed.
Ilan´s examination of this metaphor as it plays itself out throughout the tractate is a central subject of this volume, but not its only subject. She also considers all those passages in Taanit that deal with women and gender. Her analysis extend to such issues as: Did men and women dance together in Talmudic times? Did the women of the Talmud wear make up? And, following the twisted thread of Talmudic discursiveness, she touches also upon issues as far afield as: Did anyone have sex in Noah´s ark? How to account  for the trope of women eating their children that appear in Lamentations as well as in rabbinic literature?
These questions, which arise out of passages in this tractate, are explored  through comparative analysis with the Jerusalem Talmud and classic rabbinic midrashic collections. All texts are presented in both Hebrew and English, with parallel texts placed conveniently side-by-side and with all feminist or gender-related passages underlined.
“Feminist investigation is the most interested in the history of textual transmission, “ she explains in her methodological introduction. “It is the working hypothesis of this discipline that editing and copying worked in a specific direction – to belittle, denigrate and silence woman.” Unfortunately, the print of the text is in a frustrating small font size. One con only lament that even in our age, which has witnessed a great revolution in feminist Jewish scholarship, women are still making themselves small.
This series of feminist commentaries on the tractates of the Babylonian Talmud is the brainchild of Ilan, an Israeli-born professor who is currently teaching in the department of Jewish Studies at the Freie Universität in Berlin. The other tractates have been assigned to feminist Jewish scholars the world over, including Judith Hauptman of the Jewish Theological Seminary, Tirzah Meacham of the University of Toronto, and Shulamit Valler of the University of Haifa. The publication of this series, which is sponsored by the Freie Universität, is the first time since WWII that significant scholarship in the field of Talmud is being spearheaded and funded by a German academic institution. Moreover, although feminist Bible commentaries have been around for decades, this series looks to be the first comprehensive and systematic  feminist of the entire Babylonian Talmud.
To invoke the central metaphor of this volume, one can only hope, then, that Tal Ilan´s effort will continue to yield fruit.


Ilana Kurshan
In Lilith, Fall 2008, 33, 3, 41-42