Bereishit rabba 48 Supplementary Texts Use with https://www.sefaria.org/sheets/526597

From here

Mincha Ketanah[edit]

Minchah Ketanah (מִנְחָה קְטַנָּה, literally the smaller [window of praying] Minchah), two and one-half variable hours before sunset, is the preferable earliest time to recite Minchah.

Plag Hamincha[edit]

Plag Hamincha (פְּלַג הַמִּנְחָה, literally half of the Minchah) is the midpoint between Minchah Ketanah and sunset, i.e. one and one-quarter variable hours before sunset. If one prayed Minchah before this time, one may recite Maariv afterwards (at the conclusion of the Sabbath, this may only be done under extenuating circumstances). Otherwise, one must wait until sunset, unless one is praying as a congregation.^[14] Furthermore, it is questionable whether an individual may pray maariv after plag hamincha if he doesn't always recite mincha before Plag Hamincha; nevertheless, the Halachic authorities allow one to do so on Friday night.^[15]

https://www.unilad.com/news/moment-man-awakens-volcano-throwing-20220823

Nisan (or Nissan; Hebrew: נִיסָן‎, Standard Nīsan, Tiberian Nīsān; from Akkadian: 𒌗𒁈𒍠𒃻 Nisanu) in the Babylonian and Hebrew calendars is the month of the barley ripening and first month of spring. The name of the month is an Akkadian language borrowing, although it ultimately originates in Sumerian nisag "first fruits". In the Hebrew calendar it is the first month of the ecclesiastical year, called the "first of the months of the year" (Book of Exodus 12:1-2), "first month" (Ex 12:14), and the month of Aviv (Ex 13:4) בְּחֹ֖דֶשׁ הָאָבִֽיב ḥōḏeš hā-’āḇîḇ). It is called Nisan in the Book of Esther. It is a month of 30 days.

The Hebrew Bible uses the term מלאכי אלקים (malakhey Elohim; Angels of God),^[19] The Hebrew word for angel is "malakh", which means messenger, for the angels מלאכי יקוק (malakhey Adonai; Angels of the Lord) are God's messengers to perform various missions - e.g. 'angel of death';^[20] בני אלקים (b'nei elohim; sons of God) and הקדושים (ha-q'doshim; the holy ones) to refer to beings traditionally interpreted as angelic messengers. Other terms are used in later texts, such as העליונים (ha-elyonim, the upper ones, or the supreme ones). References to angels are uncommon in Jewish literature except in later works such as the Book of Daniel, though they are mentioned briefly in the stories of Jacob (who according to one interpretation wrestled with an angel) and Lot (who was warned by angels of the impending destruction of the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah). Daniel is the first biblical figure to refer to individual angels by name.^[21] It is therefore widely speculated that Jewish interest in angels developed during the Babylonian captivity.^[22] According to Rabbi Simeon ben Lakish of Tiberias (230–270 A.D.), specific names for the angels were brought back by the Jews from Babylon.

The Protestant Bible provides names for five angels, "Michael the archangel" (Jude 1:9), the angel Gabriel, who is called "the man Gabriel" in Daniel 9:21, which are considered part of the standard New Testament canon and Old Testament canon respectively, as well as Raphael, who is mentioned in Tobit 12:15, which falls in the Apocrypha section of the Protestant Bible, in addition to Uriel (2 Esdras 4:1 and 2 Esdras 5:20) and Jerahmeel (2 Esdras 4:36), which are contained in 2 Esdras, also included in the Apocrypha section of the Protestant Bible.

The Epistle of Jude^[a] is the penultimate book of the New Testament as well as the Christian Bible. It is traditionally attributed to Jude, brother of James the Just, and thus possibly a brother of Jesus as well.

Jude is a short epistle written in Koine Greek. It condemns in fierce terms certain people the author sees as a threat to the early Christian community, but describes these opponents only vaguely. According to Jude, these opponents are within the Christian community, but are not true Christians: they are scoffers, false teachers, malcontents, given to their lusts, and so on. The epistle reassures its readers that these people will soon be judged by God. It is possible that the group being referred to would have been obvious to the original recipients of the letter, but if a specific group was being referred to, knowledge of the details has since been lost. The one bit of their potential ideology discussed in the letter is that these opponents denigrate angels and their role. If this was indeed a part of the ideology of this group the author opposed, then the epistle is possibly a counterpoint to the Epistle to the Colossians. Colossians condemns those who give angels undue prominence and worship them; this implies the two letters might be part of an early Christian debate on Christian angelology.

1Jude, a servant of Jesus Christ and a brother of James,

To those who are called, loved by God the Father, and kept in Jesus Christ:

2Mercy, peace, and love be multiplied to you.

God’s Judgment on the Ungodly
(2 Peter 3:1–7)

3Beloved, although I made every effort to write to you about the salvation we share, I felt it necessary to write and urge you to contend earnestly for the faith entrusted once for all to the saints. 4For certain men have crept in among you unnoticed—ungodly ones who were designated long ago for condemnation. They turn the grace of our God into a license for immorality, and they deny our only Master and Lord, Jesus Christ.

5Although you are fully aware of this, I want to remind you that after Jesusa had delivered His people out of the land of Egypt, He destroyed those who did not believe. 6And the angels who did not stay within their own domain but abandoned their proper dwelling—these He has kept in eternal chains under darkness, bound for judgment on that great day. 7In like manner, Sodom and Gomorrah and the cities around them, who indulged in sexual immorality and pursued strange flesh, are on display as an example of those who sustain the punishment of eternal fire.

8Yet in the same way these dreamers defile their bodies, reject authority, and slander glorious beings. 9But even the archangel Michael, when he disputed with the devil over the body of Moses, did not presume to bring a slanderous charge against him, but said, “The Lord rebuke you!”b 10These men, however, slander what they do not understand, and like irrational animals, they will be destroyed by the things they do instinctively. 11Woe to them! They have traveled the path of Cain; they have rushed headlong into the error of Balaam; they have perished in Korah’s rebellion.

12These men are hidden reefsc in your love feasts, shamelessly feasting with you but shepherding only themselves. They are clouds without water, carried along by the wind; fruitless trees in autumn, twice dead after being uprooted. 13They are wild waves of the sea, foaming up their own shame; wandering stars, for whom blackest darkness has been reserved forever.

The Book of Tobit (/ˈtoʊbɪt/),^[a] also known as the Book of Tobias, is a 3rd or early 2nd century BC work describing how God tests the faithful, responds to prayers, and protects the covenant community (i.e., the Israelites).^[1] It tells the story of two Israelite families, that of the blind Tobit in Nineveh and of the abandoned Sarah in Ecbatana.^[2] Tobit's son Tobias is sent to retrieve ten silver talents that Tobit once left in Rages, a town in Media; guided and aided by the angel Raphael he arrives in Ecbatana, where he meets Sarah.^[2] A demon named Asmodeus has fallen in love with her and kills anyone she intends to marry, but with the aid of Raphael the demon is exorcised and Tobias and Sarah marry,^[1] after which they return to Nineveh where Tobit is cured of his blindness.^[2]

The book is included in the Catholic and Eastern Orthodox canons and the Dead Sea Scrolls, but not in the Jewish Masoretic text; while Protestant tradition places it in the Apocrypha, with Anabaptists, Lutherans, Anglicans and Methodists recognising it as useful for purposes of edification and liturgy, albeit non-canonical in status.^{[3][4][5][6][1]} The vast majority of scholars recognize it as a work of fiction with some historical references.^[7]

The Latin term Saraceni is of unknown original meaning. There are claims of it being derived from the Semitic triliteral root šrq "east" and šrkt "tribe, confederation".^[9][10] Another possible Semitic root is srq "to steal, rob, thief", more specifically from the noun sāriq (Arabic: سارق), pl. sāriqīn (سارقين), which means "thief, marauder".^[11] In his Levantine Diary, covering the years 1699–1740, the Damascene writer Hamad bin Kanan al-Salhi (Arabic: محمد بن كَنّان الصالحي) used the term sarkan to mean "travel on a military mission" from the Near East to parts of Southern Europe which were under Ottoman Empire rule, particularly Cyprus and Rhodes.^[12]

Ptolemy's 2nd-century work, Geography, describes Sarakēnḗ (Ancient Greek: Σαρακηνή) as a region in the northern Sinai Peninsula.^[2][3] Ptolemy also mentions a people called the Sarakēnoí (Ancient Greek: οἱ Σαρακηνοί) living in the northwestern Arabian Peninsula (near neighbor to the Sinai).^[2][3] Eusebius in his Ecclesiastical history narrates an account wherein Pope Dionysius of Alexandria mentions Saracens in a letter while describing the persecution of Christians by the Roman emperor Decius: "Many were, in the Arabian mountain, enslaved by the barbarous 'sarkenoi'."^[2][3] The Augustan History also refers to an attack by Saraceni on Pescennius Niger's army in Egypt in 193, but provides little information as to identifying them.^[13]

Both Hippolytus of Rome and Uranius mention three distinct peoples in Arabia during the first half of the third century: the Taeni, the Saraceni, and the Arabes.^[2][3] The Taeni, later identified with the Arab people called Tayy, were located around Khaybar (an oasis north of Medina) and also in an area stretching up to the Euphrates. The Saraceni were placed north of them.^[2][3] These Saracens, located in the northern Hejaz, were described as people with a certain military ability who were opponents of the Roman Empire and who were classified by the Romans as barbarians.^[2][3]

The Saracens are described as forming the equites from Phoenicia and Thamud.^[14][15][16] In one document, the defeated enemies of Diocletian's campaign in the Syrian Desert are described as Saracens. Other 4th-century military reports make no mention of Arabs, but refer to Saracen groups ranging as far east as Mesopotamia who were involved in battles on both the Sasanian and Roman sides.^{[14][15][16][17]} The Saracens were named in the Roman administrative document Notitia Dignitatum, dating from the time of Theodosius I in the 4th century, as comprising distinctive units in the Roman army. They were distinguished in the document from Arabs.^[18]

The Nabataeans or Nabateans (/ˌnæbəˈtiːənz/; Nabataean Aramaic: 𐢕𐢃𐢋𐢈‎, nbṭw, vocalized as Nabāṭū; Arabic: ٱلْأَنْبَاط, al-ʾAnbāṭ, singular النبطي, an-Nabaṭī; compare Ancient Greek: Ναβαταῖος, romanized: Nabataîos; Latin: Nabataeus) were an ancient Arab people who inhabited northern Arabia and the southern Levant.^{[1][2][3][4][5][6][7]} Their settlements—most prominently the assumed capital city of Raqmu (present-day Petra, Jordan)^[1]—gave the name Nabatene (Ancient Greek: Ναβατηνή, romanized: Nabatēnḗ) to the Arabian borderland that stretched from the Euphrates to the Red Sea.

The Nabateans emerged as a distinct civilization and political entity between the 4th and 2nd centuries BCE,^[8] with their kingdom centered around a loosely controlled trading network that brought considerable wealth and influence across the ancient world.

Described as fiercely independent by contemporary Greco-Roman accounts, the Nabataeans were annexed into the Roman Empire by Emperor Trajan in 106 CE. Nabataeans' individual culture, easily identified by their characteristic finely potted painted ceramics, was adopted into the larger Greco-Roman culture. They converted to Christianity during the Later Roman Era.

The Nabataeans were allies of the first Hasmoneans in their struggles against the Seleucid monarchs. They then became rivals of the Judaean dynasty, and a chief element in the disorders that invited Pompey's intervention in Judea. According to popular historian Paul Johnson, many Nabataeans were forcefully converted to Judaism by Hasmonean king Alexander Jannaeus.^{[15][better source needed]} It was this king who, after putting down a local rebellion, invaded and occupied the Nabataean towns of Moab and Gilead and imposed a tribute of an unknown amount. Obodas I knew that Alexander would attack, so was able to ambush Alexander's forces near Gaulane destroying the Judean army (90 BCE).^[16]

Manuscript Variants:

עִמָּ֥נוּ אֵֽל also appears as one word contributing to the blurring of any distinction between name and essence - a classic Biblical trop – see Gen 2:19 and almost every naming type-scene in the Bible. In any event, this blurring is apparent and effective whether the name of the child is rendered in either one or two words. The notion of Divine accompaniment is central to Hebrew faith, particularly in the context of conflict with enemies. (See inter alia Gen 21:20, Ex 18:19, I Chron 22:18 cf. Psl 108:12)

Note on Grammar:

The verb form vkarat is an archaic rendering of the 3^rd person feminine singular form and should not be mistaken for a 2^nd person form (contrary to the Septuagint).

Note on Context:

This phrase is found in the context of the Syrio-Ephramite Crisis, 734-732 BCE. Isaiah is attempting to dissuade the Judean King, Ahaz, from entering into a treaty with the Assyrians. Ahaz is facing attack from King Rezin of Aram and King Pekah of Remaliah who have newly allied themselves with the Northern Kingdoms of Israel and Ahaz is fearful of their combined power. Isaiah offers Ahaz a sign to prove that it is divine will that he awaits his enemies’ downfall patiently and alone. Ahaz declines the sign, but Isaiah offers it to him anyway and this sign is linked to the naming of a child. The grammar of verse 7:14 suggests that the child to be called Immanuel has already been conceived. The comfort offered by Isaiah (such as it is) lies in the notion that by the time a child, currently in utero[1] has developed moral awareness, the threat of Judah’s warring foes will have evaporated.

Significance:

The significance of the verse depends on the point from which one is looking.

For at least one early Christian community (see Matt 1:23), and many others since, the sign serves as a predictor of a child to be born of a virgin. This is a reading based on the Septugint’s translation of the Hebrew ha’alma as he parthenos and the Vulgate’s virgo – both of which may reasonably be understood to refer to a virgin. However as ‘Jewish participants in debates with Christians in the Middle Ages never tired of pointing out, the correct Hebrew term for virgo intacta is betula not ‘alma.’ (Blenkinsopp)[2]

Furthermore, as Ibn Ezra and Rashi noted, ‘the sign’ calls for immediate verification (the mother is already pregnant and the sign must be understood to mark a point in the not-too-distant future for it to have any calming influence at all). Therefore, at least as a matter of pshat, the phrase cannot be seen as a predictor of Jesus.[3]

For Jews, the unmediated verse seems rather terrifying and, liturgically, is blatantly ignored, presumably for the very same reasons Christians have been so attracted to it. Ashkenazim begin the Haftarah for Parashat Yitro with Isaiah 6:1 (presumably in order to match the theophany of Sinai with Isaiah’s theophany) and come to an abrupt halt with verse 7:6 – just before our fateful verse. Then in a glorious act of chutzpah the baal haftorah is expected to skip to Isaiah 9:5-6 ‘a child has been born to us … who has been named Marvelous Counselor, Hero Warrior, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace.’ In this neutered finale there is no mention of Immanuel, no mention of any oracle of future births[4] and certainly no mention of virgins.

For this reader, the phrase is significant for its pivotal ambiguity and, counter-intuitively, its very insignificance. Here we have the first moment that the most significant Prophet in the Hebrew Bible enters the political arena, and he offers a sign of his divine gift, yet the sign is, frankly, rather pathetic and its contemporaneous impact equally so.

What exactly is the occurrence that is supposed to affect Ahaz so? Is it that a child will be born? Will grow up? How could this be intended to be persuasive? Surely a sign from God must by its very nature run contrary to nature – maybe the sun should stand still, the sea should split, the heavens should offer manna, or the like. Added to the problem of the lack of super-normality is the problem of lack of immediacy. By the time the sign is fully realized - the child develops moral perspicuity – it is no longer needed, and before this point, it does not seem to function as a sign at all.

It might be thought that this ‘non-sign’ marks the transition from the super-natural signs of earlier Biblical books and the insistence on pure faith in later works, and therefore its very lack of probative weight serves it well. Certainly, Jeremiah, Hosea and others offer no such hostages to fortune as a supernatural sign, insisting that their truth be accepted on faith alone. However, if this simple faith is what Isaiah seeks to inculcate within Ahaz, why does the prophet spurn the King’s apparently pious demurral of a sign in 7:13? It seems that Isaiah forces a sign on Ahaz that serves only to demonstrate how signs are not to be understood as super-natural indicators of immediate Divine intervention. Most confusing.

Perhaps because of the poverty of the sign, Ahaz pays no regard to Isaiah’s urgings or his sign. He makes a pact with the Assyrians and triumphantly secures the survival of Judah, specifically by ignoring Isaiah. On the one hand then, this sign is insignificant. Isaiah is a failure. However, as Geller suggests it may well be that the very nature of the contemporary failure of Isaiah as a political force led to something truly significant. Isaiah tells Ahaz to do something, he is ignored, but yet God seems to shine on Ahaz’s stubbornness. Isaiah is surely forced to a response. He may either see himself as a charlatan or he must seek vindication in history. It may well be that Ahaz’s rejection of Isaiah’s counsel led the prophet to seek vindication in writing his prophecies down for a time (which did indeed come) when Judah and its monarch will suffer, a future suffering that can be understood as being presaged by Isaiah. It may be that the very insignificance of Isaiah’s sign led to the preservation not only of Isaiah’s oeuvre but the creation of an entire genre – the literary prophet – a significant development indeed.

From Texts After Terror, Rhiannon Graybill

As I have suggested in the Introduction, the concept and category of “texts of terror” rem

ains Trible’s most influential contribution to feminist biblical studies.4 But Trible herself often uses different language to describe the work of feminist criticism, especially when confronted with difficult, painful, or horrifying texts. In her own words, feminist criticism “recounts tales of terror in memoriam to offer sympathetic readings of abused women.”5 It does this by “telling sad stories.”6 This phrase is quoted much less frequently than “texts of terror,” perhaps because it lacks the alliteration and the always-pleasing appeal to “terror.” But “telling sad stories” offers a fuller description of Trible’s method, as well as a better representation of the forms of influence it still exerts over feminist approaches to sexual violence. Let’s pause, then, with “telling sad stories,” and unpack some of its meanings. At first pass, describing the work of criticism as “telling” or “recounting” may seem to be a humble act, or even a strategy for downplaying the role of the interpreter. But look more closely: “Telling sad stories,” like any act of “telling,” is a process of narration and narrative-production, as much as it is of interpretation.

For Trible, the practice of telling is grounded in lived and observed experience in the world—more specifically, in experiences of misogyny and gendered violence. She explains: Choice and chance inspire my telling these particular tales: hearing a black woman describe herself as a daughter of Hagar outside the covenant; seeing an abused woman on the streets of New York with a sign, “My name is Tamar”; reading news reports of the dismembered body of a woman found in a trash can; attending worship services in memory of nameless women; and wrestling with the silence, absence, and opposition of God. All these experiences and others have led me to a land of terror from whose bourn no traveler returns unscarred.9 Texts of Terror is written from this place of woundedness and witnessing;

Unhappy reading, as I describe it here, is not a rigid method; instead, it is better described as an orientation toward both stories and ways of reading them. As I have suggested throughout Texts after Terror, biblical rape stories are at risk of becoming what Barbara Johnson terms “already-read texts”—that is, we know their contents even without reading them. The telling sad stories approach reflects this tendency: It relies on a predetermined form (the “sad story”) while solidifying the position of the interpreter as “teller,” recounting a stable and predetermined meaning.

In telling a story, the narrator (or interpreter) knows what is to come, even if the readers do not. Reading, in contrast, describes something more open, more flexible, and local to the story itself.19 Reading is open to surprise, including what Johnson names, in another memorable phrase, “the surprise of otherness”: Thus, “the impossible but necessary task of the reader is to set herself up to be surprised.”20 Focusing on reading, rather than telling, is one way of opening ourselves to this sort of possibility for surprise.

All of this opens a space for reconsidering unhappiness—in fact, in unhappiness, Ahmed finds the possibility of freedom and even alternative ways of flourishing. She describes “the freedom to be unhappy” as the freedom to be affected by what is unhappy, and to live a life that might affect others unhappily. The freedom to be unhappy would be the freedom to live a life that deviates from the paths of happiness, wherever that deviation takes us . . . if we no longer presume happiness is our telos, unhappiness would register as more than what gets in the way.23

In fact, I suggest that the narrative of Judges 19 shows the limits of this language as a way of describing sexual violence as much as its possibilities.

not. To tell the sad story of the Levite’s concubine is to stabilize its meaning, as well as its place in the hierarchy of biblical rape stories—as the most terrible story of all, the limit that cannot be crossed, the terrible truth that must be reckoned with. I am not persuaded that a theory of biblical rape stories should focus on this story over and against all the other rape stories,

stories, any more than I think that a theory of rape as such should focus on gang rape and/or fatal sexual assault over and against all other forms of rape. The desire to rank and compare rape stories (“your rape is worse than mine”) is both pervasive and largely unproductive, as Sohaila Abdulali points out in What We Talk About When We Talk About Rape.38 And yet I also admit that an account of biblical rape stories, such as this book, needs to speak to the worst stories, too—even if to admit that they strain the framework I have sketched in prior chapters.

The question of who killed the concubine—the men of Gibeah or her own husband with his knife—is too often dismissed as either unsolvable or as mere grammatical curiosity. But even as the text refuses to resolve the question, the question Who killed her? matters—unless we accept the deeply troubling and misogynistic logic of rape = death, the logical outcome of rape = (a fate worse than) death. This equation treats death as the natural (or even inevitable) response to sexual violence, especially horrific or terrible sexual violence, such as gang rape by ethnic others. After a tragedy such as this, what other outcome could be possible? The narrative and critical elision of rape and murder into rapemurder also erases, or deprioritizes, another ambiguity: Who pushed the woman out, the old man or the Levite?

Beyond dodging the question Who did it?, readings of Judges 19 that collapse rape into murder are troubling for an additional reason as well: They imply that survival after rape, or after certain, especially heinous forms of rape (such as violent gang rape) is impossible or worthless. And yet, people survive rapes, even gang rapes. Not everyone does—this is essential to remember—but also, and equally importantly, some people do. Death is not the inevitable consequence of gang rape, any more than rape is the inevitable consequence of wearing a short skirt or going out alone at night or any number of other pernicious rape myths. But too frequently, feminist responses to the story of the Levite’s concubine do not acknowledge this possibility. Treating a raped woman as already murdered turns rape into a fate equal to, or worse than, death. A rape, even a violent gang rape, is not a death sentence.

It takes a lot of milk to make butter: 22 litres of full-fat milk (or 2 litres of cream) are needed to get one kilo of butter. The excellence of the cream combined with dairy know-how are the keys to a good butter!

Butter production is simple and natural; it has scarcely changed since 4500 BC, the date of the first written traces found of nomadic peoples having domesticated their cattle:

The Leviticus description of niddah is essentially composed of two parts: the ritual purity (tumah and taharah) aspect and the prohibition of sexual intercourse aspect.^[26]

Ritual purity aspect[edit]

Main article: Tumah and taharah

The Biblical regulations of Leviticus specify that a menstruating woman must "separate" for seven days (Leviticus 15:19). Any object she sits on or lies upon during this period is becomes a "carrier of tumah" (midras uncleanness). One who comes into contact with her midras, or her, during this period becomes ritually impure (Leviticus 15:19–23) In addition, a man who has sexual relations with her is rendered ritually impure for seven days—as opposed to one day of impurity for coming into contact with her or her midras (Leviticus 15:24).

During a woman's menstrual cycle, she is still permitted to cook and bake for her husband, and to separate the dough-portion (Challah), but is restricted from arranging her husband's bed linen in his presence, from mingling his cup of wine with water, and from washing her husband's face, feet and hands, since these actions are thought to arouse affection.^[27] It is also prohibited unto the man to touch his wife during these days.^[27]

While the purity laws still exist in theory, in modern times there is generally no practical consequence to becoming impure (as, e.g., the Temple in Jerusalem cannot be visited), so the laws have no practical expression.

Some later rabbinic authorities encouraged (but did not require) avoiding the midras of the niddah, as a remembrance for diasporic Jews so as to not forget the purity laws.^[28] This encouragement was only for the biblically prescribed seven-day period, not for the latter days that were added as part of certain rabbinical stringencies. The Lubavitcher rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson discouraged abstaining from the midras of a niddah in modern times.^[29]

Matthew 4:2

2 After fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry.

Otiyot nakud (dotted letters) - https://www.sofer.co.uk/oddities

There are some 15 words in the Tanach which are nakud (dotted). Some say they were inserted to call
attention to some important homiletical teaching in connection with the words, but the most likely explanation is that they indicate that the words or letters were doubtful and are to be deleted. For example, Emmanuel Tov explains these are cancellation dots, but instead of removing the elements they draw attention to, the dots themselves were ‘codified’. Presumably when Elijah comes and resolves the various scribal disagreements that have sprung up. Apparently Elijah will ask ‘why have you written these words’ Ezra the scribe will reply ‘I have placed dots over them’ and if he says ‘you have written them correctly’ then he will remove the dots! (Avot d’Rabbi Natan 30b).

10 of these appear in the Torah mostly in Genesis or Numbers, though the last being in Deuteronomy being the most extravagant with no less than 11 dots over three consecutive words. You can see pictures in the video and the PDF download.

1. Gen. 16:5 - u’veynecha (let God judge between me [Sarah] and between you [Abraham]) has one dot above the yud. teaching that this issue was restricted to Sarah reproaching Abraham only on the matter of Hagar and not others. Alternatively Sarah does intend her words against any who stir up strife between her and her husband as words between them should be of no concern to others. (ARN 30b)

2. Gen. 18:9 - eylav (and they said to him, where is Sarah your wife) has three dots over the aleph, yud and vav. This is because these heavenly creatures actually knew very well where she was they asked a rhetorical question specifically to him (i.e. Abraham) out of courtesy. (ARN 30b)

3. Gen. 19:33 - uv’kumah (and he [Lot] was not aware of her lying down and of her getting up) has one dot over the second vav. The Ba’al Haturim says this is to teach us that Lot’s daughter lay with her father before vav i.e. six hours of the night had passed and thus he was sleeping soundly when she got up. And he was not aware of when his youngest daughter arose but he was when his eldest did. (ARN 34:4), but the Talmud (Nazir 23a) and B'reshit Rabbah 51:8 say that the dotted vav indicates that he was unaware of her lying down but was aware in reality of her getting up, but acted as if he did not. With this in mind he should have not have let his daughters ply him with drink a second night, but he did. I'm a bit circumspect about this entry in my book above - as it is also for children!

In Jewish religious law (halakha), the laws of yichud (Hebrew: איסור ייחוד, romanized: issur yichud, lit. 'prohibition of seclusion') prohibit seclusion in a private area of a man and a woman who are not married to each other. Such seclusion is prohibited out of fear that sexual intercourse or other, lesser acts may occur. A person who is present in order to prevent yichud is called a shomer.

The laws of yichud are typically followed in strict Orthodox Judaism. Adherents of Conservative and Reform Judaism do not generally abide by the laws of yichud.

The term "yichud" also refers to a ritual during an Ashkenazi Jewish wedding in which the newly married couple spends a period secluded in a room by themselves. In earlier historical periods, as early as the talmudic era,^[1] the couple would have sexual intercourse at this time, but that practice is no longer current.

Source of the prohibition[edit]

Deuteronomy 13:7 says:

If your very own brother, or your son or daughter, or the wife you love, or your closest friend secretly entices you, saying, 'Let us go and worship other gods, gods that neither you nor your ancestors have known...'

The Talmud gives an explanation to the passage, which is supposed to be a hint of yichud:

Said Rabbi Johanan on the authority of Rabbi Ishmael, Where do we find an allusion to yihud in the Torah? - For it is written: If thy brother, the son of thy mother, entices thee [etc.]: does then only a mother's son entice, and not a father's son? But it is to tell you: a son may be alone with his mother, but not with any other woman interdicted in the Torah.^[2]

According to Talmud, Amnon's rape of his half-sister Tamar led King David to extend the prohibition of yichud to unmarried girls. 17th-century painting.

The Talmud also claims that after the rape of Tamar, daughter of David, when she was left alone with her half-brother Amnon, David and his high court extended this prohibition to unmarried girls as well. Later, in the times of Shammai and Hillel the Elder, the prohibition was extended to include a non-Jewish woman. These rules are discussed in the Talmud.^[3]

Most rishonim define the prohibition of yichud as a Torah law. Although Maimonides writes that the prohibition of yichud is derived from divrei kabbalah (Bible texts later than the Pentateuch), many interpret his words as meaning that it is a Torah law, though some regard it as a rabbinic prohibition.^[3][4][5]

The laws of yichud provide for strong restrictions on unrelated members of the opposite sex being secluded together, and milder ones for close family members. Different opinions exist regarding application of these laws both in terms of situation and in terms of the individuals involved. Prohibition of yichud applies to men over 13 years and, generally, girls over three, and a woman over twelve may not be alone with a boy over nine.^[6] Even seclusion of short duration is forbidden, if it could potentially last longer.^[7]

Leniencies[edit]

There are a number of circumstances, under which the prohibition of yichud may be circumvented. Typically, these apply fully to yichud with an observant Jew. Meeting a non-Jew or a secular Jew may require more scrupulousness.^[6]

Baaloh B'ir – in town[edit]

If the husband is in town (Baaloh B'ir, or Baala Bair), or, more precisely, if it is possible that he can appear suddenly, a woman may be secluded with another man in her home. The fear of his sudden appearance is considered a deterrent to engaging in illicit behavior. If the husband works fixed hours, or if they meet where they are not likely to be found, the husband's presence in town does not circumvent yichud. A close, long-standing relationship (Libo Gas Boh) between the wife and another man also proscribes yichud in spite of the husband's presence in town. The lenience caused by the man's presence in town does not, however apply to his being secluded with another woman when his wife may appear suddenly.^[6] Paradoxically, if a husband gives his wife permission to be secluded with a man, the lenience does no longer apply, since she does not fear his sudden entrance.^[4]

Rashi believes that the husband’s presence in town only mitigates the prohibition, rather than abrogating it. The Shulchan Aruch, following Tosafot, however, rule that when the husband is in town the yichud restriction does not apply at all.^[5]

Maimonides and Shulchan Aruch write that the rationale for Baaloh B'ir is that "her husband's fear is upon her." This does not imply a concrete fear that her husband will enter unexpectedly, but rather that she feels a natural inhibition, in the knowledge that her husband is close by. As a consequence of this, she can be in yichud with another man in a large city, like London or New York, where the chance that he suddenly appears is non-existent. Neither does her husband's permission undermine the leniency, according to this interpretation. Rashi interprets Baalo B'ir as referring to a concrete fear of sudden exposure. So does rabbi Moshe Feinstein, who consequently rules in a stricter way.^[4] Another issue of debate is whether cities who have grown together to form a continuous area are to be treated as one city. Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach argues that if the wife is in Ramat Gan and the husband is in Tel Aviv he is still considered to be "in town". Since there are no significant uninhabited areas separating these cities, they are defined as one city from a Halachic perspective.^[5]

Pesach Posuach – open door[edit]

The door is considered open as long as it is not locked, and the prohibition of yichud is circumvented.

Yichud is alleviated when the door is open. This principle is known as pesach pasuach lireshus harabim (lit. an open doorway to the public domain). The Shulchan Aruch rules: "If the door is open to the public domain, there is no concern of yichud."^[8] This ruling has been interpreted and enlarged in various ways: 1. the door is actually open^[9] 2. when the door is closed but unlocked 3. then door is locked, but somebody with a key is liable to come in at any time 4. the door is locked, but there is a reasonable possibility that people may knock on the door and expect to be answered (according to Moshe Feinstein). A woman being secluded with another man is also justified when people outside can see through the window what is going on inside the house. In case of a close, long-standing friendship between the man and the woman, however, a more stringent behavior is expected.^[6] The leniency usually does not apply late at night, as there is little or no chance that people would come in unexpectedly then.^[8]

Shomrim – guards[edit]

Yichud can be circumvented by the presence of other individuals (shomrim, guards or Chaperones), who would serve to provide a check on the man's behavior. Generally, Torah-observant Jewish men qualify as shomrim. Female relatives that permit yichud are: a man's mother; his daughter or granddaughter; his sister; his grandmother; and a woman's mother-in-law, daughter-in-law and sister-in-law. Children aged 6–9 also qualify.^[8]

Although yichud with a woman and two or more men, according to most poskim, is permitted during day time and in the evening, the presence of at least three men is required during nighttime sleeping hours. The same goes for situations when children are present instead of adults.^[6] Sefardic Jews require the presence of the wife of one of the men for a woman to be secluded with them.^[7]

Shulchan Aruch, though, follows Maimonides in ruling that yichud with one woman is prohibited even with many men. The disagreement is based on a passage in Gemara, which states that the permission for two men to be secluded with one woman applies only to kosher people, and tells a story where two acharonim met a woman in a secluded place, and one of them preferred to leave, since perchance only tzaddikim are defined as kosher. Nissim of Gerona considered this an excessive stringency, and thought that regular people are defined as kosher. Moses Isserles follows this view, and states that yichud with one woman and several men is prohibited only for promiscuous people.^[10]

According to Rashi, yichud is permitted when at least three women are present, but most poskim follow Maimonides, who ruled that no number of women present circumvents the prohibition of yichud. Many poskim permits yichud in the presence of the man's grandmother, mother, daughter, granddaughter or sister [over seven years], but do not accept the woman's daughter, granddaughter or sister.^[6] Avraham Danzig writes that the prohibition for one man to be in seclusion with two women is only rabbinic, whereas Torah law only prohibits a man from being secluded with one woman.^[4]

There are numerous other exceptions; this article presents the haredi point of view.

The Septuagint (/ˈsɛptjuədʒɪnt/ SEP-tew-ə-jint),^[1] sometimes referred to as the Greek Old Testament or The Translation of the Seventy (Ancient Greek: Ἡ μετάφρασις τῶν Ἑβδομήκοντα, romanized: Hē metáphrasis tôn Hebdomḗkonta), and often abbreviated as LXX,^[2] is the earliest extant Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible from the original Hebrew.^[3][4] The full Greek title derives from the story recorded in the Letter of Aristeas to Philocrates that "the laws of the Jews" were translated into the Greek language at the request of Ptolemy II Philadelphus (285–247 BCE) by seventy-two Hebrew translators—six from each of the Twelve Tribes of Israel.^[5][6][7]

Letter of Aristeas

[9] Demetrius of Phalerum, the president of the king's library, received vast sums of money, for the purpose of collecting together, as far as he possibly could, all the books in the world. By means of purchase and transcription, he carried out, to the best of his ability, the purpose of the king. On one occasion when I was present he was asked, How many thousand books are there in the library? [10] G and he replied, 'More than two hundred thousand, O king, and I shall make endeavour in the immediate future to gather together the remainder also, so that the total of five hundred thousand may be reached. I am told that the laws of the Jews are worth transcribing and deserve a place in [11] your library.' 'What is to prevent you from doing this?' replied the king. 'Everything that is necessary has been placed at your disposal.' 'They need to be translated,' answered Demetrius, 'for in the country of the Jews they use a peculiar alphabet (just as the Egyptians, too, have a special form of letters) and speak a peculiar dialect. They are supposed to use the Syriac tongue, but this is not the case; their language is quite different.' And the king when he understood all the facts of the case ordered a letter to be written to the Jewish High Priest that his purpose (which has already been described) might be accomplished.

Wikipedia - Septuagint

The Septuagint does not consist of a single, unified corpus. Rather, it is a collection of ancient translations of the Tanakh, along with other Jewish texts that are now commonly referred to as apocrypha. Importantly, the canon of the Hebrew Bible was evolving over the century or so in which the Septuagint was being written. Also, the texts were translated by many different people, in different locations, at different times, for different purposes, and often from different original Hebrew manuscripts.^[8]

The Hebrew Bible, also called the Tanakh, has three parts: the Torah ("Law"), the Nevi'im ("Prophets"), and the Ketuvim ("Writings"). The Septuagint has four: law, history, poetry, and prophets. The books of the Apocrypha were inserted at appropriate locations.^[3][4] Extant copies of the Septuagint, which date from the 4th century CE, contain books and additions^[36] not present in the Hebrew Bible as established in the Jewish canon^[37] and are not uniform in their contents. According to some scholars, there is no evidence that the Septuagint included these additional books.^[38][9] These copies of the Septuagint include books known as anagignoskomena in Greek and in English as deuterocanon (derived from the Greek words for "second canon"), books not included in the Jewish canon.^[39][10] These books are estimated to have been written between 200 BCE and 50 CE. Among them are the first two books of Maccabees; Tobit; Judith; the Wisdom of Solomon; Sirach; Baruch (including the Letter of Jeremiah), and additions to Esther and Daniel. The Septuagint version of some books, such as Daniel and Esther, are longer than those in the Masoretic Text, which were affirmed as canonical in Rabbinic Judaism.^[40] The Septuagint Book of Jeremiah is shorter than the Masoretic Text.^[41] The Psalms of Solomon, 1 Esdras, 3 Maccabees, 4 Maccabees, the Letter of Jeremiah, the Book of Odes, the Prayer of Manasseh and Psalm 151 are included in some copies of the Septuagint.^[42]

From the Izzun Megilat Ester

Ester as Canonical

Whereas a cannon is a tube from which projectiles are fired, a canon is a tube in which important things are safeguarded. Ester is, of course, canonical.

The canonisation of the Hebrew Bible – the books that make it ‘in,’ or are left ‘out’ – should not be taken for granted – a Mishnah in Yadaim records a debate on the subject. Ester seems to have been in danger of exclusion. Josephus knew only of 22 Biblical books, rather than the 24 we count today, and Ester is unique among biblical books in that it is unattested in the Dead Sea Scrolls.

Additionally, there are sections in the Greek Septuagint translation of Ester that are not in the Masoretic Hebrew. The Catholic Church canonised these extra sections, but the Rabbis did not. The remarkable thing about the extra sections is that they render the book theologically safer – God features explicitly, the story is re-cast as an act of divine determination. The version of Ester that makes it into the Hebrew Bible is raw, impious even.

Perhaps, rather than regretfully acknowledging the more pious version of Ester failed to make it ‘in,’ we should focus on the rejection of an overlay of piety deemed ‘out.’ To be ‘in’ a religious canon is more than merely being deemed acceptable. Canonisation defines the very thing itself. With the canonisation of Ester, Rabbinic Judaism is defined to include the heroism of a woman. With the exclusion of the extra-sections, Rabbinic Judaism is defined to include the experience of a hidden divinity and fate hanging on the fall of a lot.

The notion that canonisation is an exercise in theological largesse is strengthened by considering other Biblical books that seem to have been in danger of missing ‘out.’ The debate in Mishnah Yadaim considers the canonicity of the erotic Song of Songs and the dark Ecclesiastes. Both make it ‘in.’ Meanwhile, the scrupulously pious Ben Sirah remains ‘out.’

Esther’s place in our canon is a sign that being ‘in’ contains more than we might have thought. Being ‘in’ requires neither exceeding piety nor patriarchy. The courageous feminine, the dark, the humorous, the hidden and the human all make it ‘in.’ Thank God.

https://rabbionanarrowbridge.blogspot.com/2019/08/on-women-leading-prayers-services.html

(Ahem, me)

1. They must bring the community together; much like a conductor would work with an orchestra. This is in part technical; we must be brought in at the right time with the right tune, but also it is a spiritual, emotional and an artistic task. A great leader of prayer functions as a vessel, drawing a great spiritual response from the community and transforming the printed words of the Siddur into songful prayer.
2. They must fulfil certain key obligations on behalf of members of the prayer community. This is entirely a practical issue.
3. They must also serve as our representatives before God. We, the community, stand to be judged not only in our own right, but also in terms of who we appoint as our leaders.

1. The role of keeping the community focussed and united in their prayer raises the question; is there something about women that distracts or otherwise makes it impossible for them to ‘conduct’ prayers for a mixed, male and female, community?
2. The role of fulfilling ritual obligation raises the question; are women technically able, in the same way as men, to fulfil obligations on behalf of both male and female members of the prayer community?
3. The role of representing a fully constituted prayer community before God raises the twin questions; who can and should lead a prayer community consisting of both men and women?