In less than four months, I will be a married man! The thought of this serious life change both excites me and scares me. In many ways, I think my relationship with my fiancée Stephanie will remain the same. After all, we already have lived together for about two years. Yet the spiritual bond that will link us as we "tie the knot" will transform both of us in ways that I can only imagine. Our marriage will bring not only a Facebook status change, but a spiritual, social, and legal changing of our identities. We will each have new responsibilities toward one another, and toward our family unit (which will hopefully grow).
Today I studied the rabbinic perception of a woman's responsibilities toward her husband. To put it mildly, times have changed, especially for progressive Jews like myself who view a woman's role in a marriage as more or less equal (but perhaps different) to that of her husband. Talmudic viewpoints (ranging in this discussion from about 100 CE to 500 CE) offer a more "traditional" model for the functions of a woman. I would deem the views of some of sages as chauvinistic to say the least. Rabbi Hiyya, for example, suggests that wives function merely as showpieces for their husbands. In disagreeing with the majority, he argues "אין אשה אלא ליופי, women are only for their beauty." To this end, the woman's role visa vis her husband is only to gladly recieve the jewlery that her husband adorns her with. Yet just as modern American Jews tend to frown on trophy wives, so too did the rabbinic sages reject Hiyya's relegation of woman as mere objects of beauty. The main part of the talmudic discussion focuses on the active role woman should play in a marriage.
The Suggya (passage) in Ketubot 59b opens with a discussion from the Mishnah (compiled in about 200 CE), an early Jewish legal compendium upon which later sages (200-500 CE) will comment. The Mishnah lists seven primary responsibilities a woman has toward her husband:
Clearly, I will not be expecting Stephanie to grind her own flour. Even the later rabbinic sages appear surprised to think that would be a realistic responsibility. They exclaim: "טוחנת סלקא דעתך, Can it even enter your mind that a wife actually grinds grain?" By the same token, we would likely not expect wives today to work with wool and make clothing for their grooms. The issue of nursing raises a rabbinic debate that resembles the recent shocking Time Magazine cover asking "Are You Mom Enough?," and explicitly showing a five year old child sucking from his mother's breast. Like the provocative article, the rabbis discuss the age at which it becomes inappropriate to continue nursing. Rabbi Eleazar suggests that "an infant can continue nursing until 24 months." Anything after that, he declares שקץ (sheketz), an abominable thing. Rabbi Yehoshua, by contrast, argues that a child can be nursed up to four or five years! The debate about breastfeeding evokes a heated debate among the rabbis. They continue to quibble over the finer points of permisssability and social acceptability of all sorts of nursing issues. Reflecting on back on all the conversations that Stephanie and I have had together, I don't think we have ever once discussed whether she will breast feed our children, and the appropriate amount of time to do so (God willing we have a few). Is this a normal conversation for couples to have before they enter into a marriage? Will the topic spark as much debate within our household as it does in the Gemara? The Shulchan Aruch, the definitive code of Jewish law (written by Joseph Karo in the 16th Century), decrees that we should follow Eliezer's suggestion of two years, and continue up to four or five as Yehoshua rules, only if the child is sick (Yoreh Deah 81:7). This sounds like a rather reasonable proposition.
The one task on the list of rabbinicly perscribed wifely responsibilities that I will delegate exclusivly to Stephanie is the making of the bed. Since we first started dating, I have been keenly aware that Stephanie requires perfectly made up sleeping quarters. Every morning she ornatly makes hosptial corners on the sheets, lines the blanket and comforter up perfectly, and stacks the pillows in a very specific arangement. Since we moved in together, I have attempted to make the bed several times only to find that she would remake it. My efforts to learn her bed-making routine have been to no avail. I have given up in this regard, and will leave her to this rabbinically mandated responsibility.
Today I studied the rabbinic perception of a woman's responsibilities toward her husband. To put it mildly, times have changed, especially for progressive Jews like myself who view a woman's role in a marriage as more or less equal (but perhaps different) to that of her husband. Talmudic viewpoints (ranging in this discussion from about 100 CE to 500 CE) offer a more "traditional" model for the functions of a woman. I would deem the views of some of sages as chauvinistic to say the least. Rabbi Hiyya, for example, suggests that wives function merely as showpieces for their husbands. In disagreeing with the majority, he argues "אין אשה אלא ליופי, women are only for their beauty." To this end, the woman's role visa vis her husband is only to gladly recieve the jewlery that her husband adorns her with. Yet just as modern American Jews tend to frown on trophy wives, so too did the rabbinic sages reject Hiyya's relegation of woman as mere objects of beauty. The main part of the talmudic discussion focuses on the active role woman should play in a marriage.
The Suggya (passage) in Ketubot 59b opens with a discussion from the Mishnah (compiled in about 200 CE), an early Jewish legal compendium upon which later sages (200-500 CE) will comment. The Mishnah lists seven primary responsibilities a woman has toward her husband:- טוחנת- grinding (flour or corn)
- אופה– baking bread
- מכבסת– laundering the clothing
- מבשלת– cooking
- מניקה nursing the children
- מצעת לו המטה – making the bed
- עושה בצמר– working with wool
Clearly, I will not be expecting Stephanie to grind her own flour. Even the later rabbinic sages appear surprised to think that would be a realistic responsibility. They exclaim: "טוחנת סלקא דעתך, Can it even enter your mind that a wife actually grinds grain?" By the same token, we would likely not expect wives today to work with wool and make clothing for their grooms. The issue of nursing raises a rabbinic debate that resembles the recent shocking Time Magazine cover asking "Are You Mom Enough?," and explicitly showing a five year old child sucking from his mother's breast. Like the provocative article, the rabbis discuss the age at which it becomes inappropriate to continue nursing. Rabbi Eleazar suggests that "an infant can continue nursing until 24 months." Anything after that, he declares שקץ (sheketz), an abominable thing. Rabbi Yehoshua, by contrast, argues that a child can be nursed up to four or five years! The debate about breastfeeding evokes a heated debate among the rabbis. They continue to quibble over the finer points of permisssability and social acceptability of all sorts of nursing issues. Reflecting on back on all the conversations that Stephanie and I have had together, I don't think we have ever once discussed whether she will breast feed our children, and the appropriate amount of time to do so (God willing we have a few). Is this a normal conversation for couples to have before they enter into a marriage? Will the topic spark as much debate within our household as it does in the Gemara? The Shulchan Aruch, the definitive code of Jewish law (written by Joseph Karo in the 16th Century), decrees that we should follow Eliezer's suggestion of two years, and continue up to four or five as Yehoshua rules, only if the child is sick (Yoreh Deah 81:7). This sounds like a rather reasonable proposition.The one task on the list of rabbinicly perscribed wifely responsibilities that I will delegate exclusivly to Stephanie is the making of the bed. Since we first started dating, I have been keenly aware that Stephanie requires perfectly made up sleeping quarters. Every morning she ornatly makes hosptial corners on the sheets, lines the blanket and comforter up perfectly, and stacks the pillows in a very specific arangement. Since we moved in together, I have attempted to make the bed several times only to find that she would remake it. My efforts to learn her bed-making routine have been to no avail. I have given up in this regard, and will leave her to this rabbinically mandated responsibility.
While only women posses the biological capability to nurse children, in todays time the remaining list of duties can be shared or delegated to a third party. We can and should reinterpret this list of responsibilities as contemporary discussion points for the roles and obligations we carry into our relationships.