Feminist Rereadings of Rabbinic Literature

Inbar Raveh, Kaeren Fish

• Publisher: Brandeis University Press
• Year: 2014
• ISBN:
  9781611686098
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Literary Criticism
• Index: Literature

This book offers a fresh perspective on classical Jewish literature by providing a gender-based, feminist reading of rabbinical anecdotes and legends. Viewing rabbinical legends as sources that generate perceptions about women and gender, Inbar Raveh provides answers to questions such as how the Sages viewed women; how they formed and molded their characterization of them; how they constructed the ancient discourse on femininity; and what the status of women was in their society. Raveh also re-creates the voices and stories of the women themselves within their sociohistorical context, moving them from the periphery to the center and exposing how men maintain power. Chapter topics include desire and control, pain, midwives, prostitutes, and myth. A major contribution to the fields of literary criticism and Jewish studies, Raveh's book demonstrates the possibility of appreciating the aesthetic beauty and complexity of patriarchal texts, while at the same time recognizing their limitations.

1

BACK TO THE BREAST

An Aspect of Feminine Sexuality in the Imagined World of the Sages

For Grandmother Shoshana, of blessed memory

A DISORDERING ORGAN

In the beginning there was the breast. That was the first object; the maternal organ whose significance in the life of every newborn—certainly in the ancient world—was critical. When artists of the ancient world molded the human form, breasts usually signified a woman. They were different, sometimes, in form and even in number, but they were almost always clearly visible.

In The History of Sexuality, Michel Foucault looks at the human body as the primary signifier of power relations. He argues that the body is the greatest battlefield in human history. In other words, bodily behaviors and physical indicators occurring in or upon the body of the individual signify the power relations between oppressive forces in society and that individual. These power relations are dynamic, for while the body obeys physiological laws, it is also subjugated to the norms forced upon it by the social and cultural order. Foucault refers to these forces as “biopower.”¹ He regards their influence as being so great that we can speak of the universal human body only in a limited and trivial sense. The human body is a sort of locus in which discourse is recorded, but its uniqueness lies in the fact that it is also a locus that resists the discourse about it, creating dialogue when force is applied.

Sexual differences and the study of bodily behaviors serve as central axes for the feminist criticism of reasoning, formation of knowledge, and science. In the wake of Foucault, and inspired by radical feminism, feminist scholars have argued that regimentation of the body as a means of control is especially relevant in relation to the feminine body, and they explore the various spheres in which this regimentation is expressed.² Contrary to the intuitive sense that the body is a fixed basis for any discussion of sexuality, Denise Riley argues that “ ‘[t]he body’ is not, for all its corporeality, an originating point nor yet a terminus; it is a result or an effect.”³

In this chapter we shall trace the representations of women’s breasts in some rabbinic homiletic teachings and show how they reveal a certain view of feminine sexuality, how that sexuality is constituted, and what differentiates it from the sexuality of men, who are the creators of this literature. Thus, our critical reading here will address the politicization of the body and its attendant practices, and thereby open the study of rabbinic literature to new ways of thinking.⁴

The past decade has witnessed a proliferation of academic interest in the Jewish body, a “corporeal turn” surrounded by considerable scholastic controversy.⁵ A range of works has mapped the body as a sort of cultural signifier. Many of these do not purport to present an all-inclusive picture of the “Jewish body,” or even of the “body in rabbinic literature”; rather, they offer a meticulous reading of texts and an examination of representations of the body in specific literary worlds.⁶ This wave of research focuses, for the main part, on those parts of the body whose functions are bound up with the satisfaction of needs—particularly those of nourishment and sex. The aim of our present discussion is to contribute to this discourse and to examine the representations of an organ meant to satisfy these human needs.

Our point of departure will be the association of the breasts with the concept of feminine beauty. Gender distinctions, as we know, have a considerable influence on the perception of human beauty. When the nature of these distinctions changes, the perception of beauty changes accordingly. There is a halakhic discussion in the Palestinian Talmud concerning the types of defects that disqualify a kohen (priest) or a woman (that is, the same defects that would render a priest unfit for service in the Temple, are also considered grounds for annulling a marriage to a woman whose defect was not known in advance and agreed to by the husband), noting that the beraita lists only those defects that can apply to both sexes.⁷

A beard is an attractive feature in a man, but a defect in a woman . . .

Breasts are an attractive feature in a woman, but a defect in a man . . .

—Palestinian Talmud, Ketubot chapter 7, 31d / law 7 (Academy edition, p. 992, lines 33–35)

This text is not the only rabbinic source that views the breasts as an organ expressing feminine beauty.⁸ Elsewhere, the Sages attempt to establish standards for their size and form to serve as criteria of “beauty.”⁹ Clearly, the breasts are perceived as a central symbol of femininity. The talmudic text quoted above creates an analogy between a beard and breasts, in the context of a discussion of organs that are considered beautiful in one sex but a defect in the other. However, the analogy here is not simple and straightforward. The beard is exposed to view, whereas the breasts are covered; the beard is not governed by the rules of modesty that apply to the breasts;¹⁰ the beard also represents subjective qualities, such as wisdom; and so on.

Luce Irigaray, a French feminist thinker, discusses the introduction of women into the economy of the gaze, the economy of male desire that enjoys looking.¹¹ Her analysis may help us to understand the importance of the breast in this context. In contrast to the woman’s main sex organ, which “represents the horror of nothing to see,” a “defect in this systematics of representation and desire,” a “ ‘hole’ in its scoptophilic lens,” breasts are prominent organs with a tangible presence. The Sages’ contemplation of the breasts in halakhic contexts, and their noting of size and shape, turns the woman into an object for viewing, an object of desire.¹² Needless to say, women have no role in this setting of standards, which remains detached from women’s own concepts about their bodies or their desire.

A review of the representation of breasts in rabbinic literature shows that they are molded as organs that disturb a sexual order that is based on oneness: one perspective, one organ. As Irigaray notes, “So woman does not have a sex organ? She has at least two of them, but they are not identifiable as ones. Indeed, she has many more. Her sexuality, always at least double, goes even further: it is plural.”¹³ In Irigaray’s theory, the great cultural metaphor of the contrast between the phallus and the feminine sex organ, between the single whole that is visible in its entirety, and that which is hidden and multiple, rests on duality. A twoness that cannot be divided into one and another one becomes something essentially mysterious, unusual, and negative at the root of Western thought. Dualistic existence is not a temporary situation; rather, it is a constant in our culture, and it disturbs the order that rests upon oneness.

In the rabbinic tradition, breasts are esteemed as the vessels producing the milk that is vital for the survival and nurturing of the members of the Jewish nation. One of the strategies for appropriating women’s breasts is to mold them in the broader cultural context of nursing. The fundamental assumption is that “everything that gives birth, nurses.”¹⁴ In this context the breasts possess “benevolent” significance: they nourish infants—or, in the metaphorical sense, an entire religious community. It is therefore no wonder that in the few places in rabbinic literature where the Sages lend their voices to women who award their breasts a presence and speak about them in the “first person,” the breasts are viewed in their maternal, nourishing context.¹⁵ Of course, this role “conceals” the other aspects of the breasts—that of sexual pleasure. Feminine physical pleasure involving the breasts is left outside this world of meanings; even the male attraction to a woman’s breasts undergoes substantial cultural sublimation. Women’s sexuality is recognized only in the framework of motherhood, which transforms the body into the abode and servant of potential offspring.

One of the most notable rabbinic literary contexts in which mention is made of breasts, highlighting their “disruptive” nature, is the realm of miracles. The elements of a miraculous event are usually familiar to us from our everyday reality. The essence of the miracle is a reorganization of those elements of reality—what the Sages refer to as “a change in the order of Creation.”¹⁶ There occurs some overt or covert Divine intervention in nature, disturbing its order and laws in a way that makes a powerful impression on the human consciousness. Most of the miracles in the Bible have some connection, whether directly or indirectly, with life and death—which, of course, are in God’s hands.¹⁷

The maternal function bound up with the breast led to the molding of a rich thematic model that connects the nourishing of an infant at its mother’s breast with miracles. It must be emphasized that this connection is in no way self-evident. On the contrary, in many respects there would seem to be nothing more “natural,” nothing more firmly entrenched in the fixed laws of biology, than the phenomenon of nursing. Hence, the ties to the realm of the miraculous would seem to arise from the fundamental tension characterizing the Sages’ view of feminine sexuality: the dichotomy of order and disorder, embodied, as we shall see, in the theologically fraught relationship between the individual and the collective.

Let us examine the aggadic sources that create a literary link between breasts and miracles, with a view to understanding the underlying tension between the individual and the collective. As we shall see, this tension finds expression at various levels in the talmudic traditions. Sometimes the focus is on the tension that exists in the biblical text itself; at other times a teaching illuminates the tension in the reality of our world. In some instances the tension is a matter of literary style; at other times it reveals a deeply rooted cultural pattern. I propose that the rabbinic sources, in their discussion of breasts in their maternal context, reveal a more comprehensive attitude toward feminine sexuality, its otherness, and its power. The world of the Sages is a rich and diverse one, and it is not my intention to engage in reduction or to offer a one-dimensional description. Rather, I will attempt to offer a conceptual framework that will illuminate something of the structuring of the feminine.

The first sources that we shall examine relate to a miracle involving the breasts of Sarah, the first matriarch of the Jewish people.

“And Sarah said, God has made laughter for me; all who hear will laugh for me. And she said, Who [would have] said to Abraham that Sarah should nurse children? For I have borne him a son in his old age” (Gen. 21:6–7):

[What is the meaning of the plural,] “that Sarah should nurse children”?

Sarah was exceedingly modest. Abraham told her: “This is not the time for modesty; uncover your breasts so that all may know that the Holy One, blessed be He, has begun to perform miracles.” He uncovered her breasts and the milk gushed forth as from two fountains, and noblewomen came and had their children nursed by her, saying, “We are not deserving of nursing our children from the milk [meant] for that righteous one, Isaac.”

—Genesis Rabba, parsha 53¹⁸

“And she said, Who [would have] said unto Abraham, that Sarah should nurse children? For I have born him a son in his old age” (Gen. 21:7):

How many children did Sarah then nurse? R. Levi said: On the day that Abraham weaned his son Isaac, everyone in the world derided him, saying, “Have you seen that old man and woman, who brought a foundling from the street and now claim him as their son! And what is more, they are making a great banquet to establish their claim!” What did our patriarch Abraham do? He went and invited all the great men of the generation, and our matriarch Sarah invited their wives. Each one brought her child with her, without the wet nurse, and a miracle happened to our mother Sarah: her two breasts opened up like two fountains, and she nursed them all.

—Babylonian Talmud, Bava Metzi’a 87a (according to MS Hamburg 165)

These are variations on the same theme, and the differences between them are deserving of a separate discussion.¹⁹ For our purposes, we will focus on what they share. As Yehoshua Levinson notes, in his inspiring discussion of the version in Genesis Rabba, the central motif of the biblical account here is the transformation of laughter from an expression of a lack of faith, to an expression of recognition of God’s power. It must be remembered that the lack of faith, in the biblical story, is attributed to Sarah: “After I am grown old, shall I have pleasure—my husband being old also?” (Gen. 18:12). This motif becomes the central axis of the homiletical story. The biblical verse raises several difficulties. First of all, why does Sarah say that she “nursed children,” in the plural? In addition, the text mentions two statements or utterances by Sarah, not just one. Twice we read, “And she said”—although seemingly nothing happens between the first utterance and the second. Furthermore, there is a syntactical problem with the verse, which conveys a quote within a quote: Sarah is talking about a different speaker (“Who [would have] said to Abraham”), but it is not clear who this speaker is, and what his relationship is to those who laughed with Sarah in the previous verse. While previously it was Sarah herself who could not bring herself to believe the news, this doubt is now projected onto an external observer. The solution that the midrash proposes for the exegetical difficulties raised by the repetitions in the biblical text is that Sarah is voicing the words of other characters: it is the noblewomen who hear [of Isaac’s arrival] and laugh [in derision], since they cannot believe that Sarah is the mother of Isaac. Therefore Abraham intervenes and urges Sarah to nurse in public, “So that all may know that the Holy One, blessed be He, has begun to perform miracles.”²⁰

The problem with this seemingly logical explanation of the midrashic dynamic is that it provides no satisfactory explanation as to why the nursing of several babies is necessary to achieve universal recognition that Sarah is the mother of Isaac, when nursing just this one child would surely represent ample proof.

Although it is the plural form (“to nurse children”) in the verse that prompts the midrash to adopt this explanation, I believe that behind this rich and grotesque image lies the same tension arising from the multiple and enigmatic sexuality of woman. The derision of the noblewomen relates to Sarah’s sexuality. We read that “Sarah had ceased to experience the manner of women” (Gen. 18:11)—indicating her advanced age, well past her years of fertility. In addition, in the previous chapter, Sarah had spent an entire night with Abimelekh, king of Gerar (a fact which, in the eyes of society, calls the paternity of Isaac into question). The noblewomen serve as a mouthpiece for the profound—to my mind, fundamentally ­masculine—anxiety arising from the Sages’ contemplation of sexual difference. The opaque multiplicity in the biblical verse—the multiplicity of children, of speakers, of scoffers—is “clarified,” on a certain level, through an outpouring of milk, which, although meant for one single righteous infant, Isaac, nourishes many infants. These are “children” of sorts, since the miraculous revelation of the One God through Sarah’s breasts will lead to their recognition of Him.

To my mind, the midrashic depiction of Sarah’s mythical nursing expresses an ambivalence toward both miracles and feminine sexuality. The individual at the center of the miraculous occurrence—Sarah—is the object of derision and a fundament...