Daf Ditty 113: kaldiyyim, kalda'ei,

The countries around Chaldea

The fame of the Chaldeans was still solid at the time of Cicero (106–43 BC), who in one of his speeches mentions "Chaldean astrologers", and speaks of them more than once in his De divinatione.

Other classical Latin writers who speak of them as distinguished for their knowledge of astronomy and astrology are Pliny, Valerius Maximus, Aulus Gellius, Cato, Lucretius, Juvenal. Horace in his Carpe diem ode speaks of the "Babylonian calculations" (Babylonii numeri), the horoscopes of astrologers consulted regarding the future.

In the late antiquity, a variant of language that was used in some books of the was misnamed as Chaldean by Jerome of Stridon. That usage continued down the centuries, and it was still customary during the nineteenth century, until the misnomer was corrected by the scholars.

1

Rabbi Yoḥanan further said: The Holy One, blessed be He, proclaims about the goodness of three kinds of people every day, as exceptional and noteworthy individuals: About a bachelor who lives in a city and does not sin with women; about a poor person who returns a lost object to its owners despite his poverty; and about a wealthy person who his produce in private, without publicizing his behavior. The reports: was a bachelor living in a city.

2

When the tanna taught this before and Rav Safra, Rav Safra’s face lit up with joy, as he was listed among those praised by God. Rava said to him: This does not refer to someone like the Master. Rather, the statement applies to people like Rav Ḥanina and Rav Oshaya, who were cobblers in Eretz Yisrael, and they would sit in the marketplace of prostitutes and fashion shoes for prostitutes. And the prostitutes would enter their shops and look at them. However, due to their piety, these Sages did not raise their eyes to look at the women. And those prostitutes were so impressed with this behavior that when they swore, they would say as follows: By the lives of the holy Sages of Eretz Yisrael. It is this type of bachelor who is praised by Heaven.

3 The Gemara cites a similar statement. The Holy One, blessed be He, loves three people: One who does not get angry; one who does not get drunk; and one who is forgiving. The Holy One, blessed be He, hates three people: One who says one statement with his mouth and means another in his heart, i.e., a hypocrite; one who knows testimony about another person and does not testify on his behalf; and one who observes a licentious matter performed by another person and testifies against him alone. His testimony is meaningless, as he is the only witness; consequently, he merely gives the individual a bad reputation.

The Gemara comments: This is like that incident where Tuveya sinned with immorality, and Zigud came alone to testify about him before . Rav Pappa instructed that Zigud be lashed. Zigud said to him: Tuveya sinned and Zigud is lashed, an objection that became a popular saying. He said to him: Yes, as it is written:

One witness shall not rise up against a man for any 15 וט אֹל - םוּקָי דֵﬠ דָחֶא ,שׁיִאְבּ לָכְל - וָﬠ ןֹ ןֹ וָﬠ iniquity, or for any sin, in any sin that he sinneth; at the לוּ ְ ָ כ ל - ,תאָטַּח לָכְבּ - ,אְטֵח רֶשֲׁא רֶשֲׁא ,אְטֵח mouth of two witnesses, or at the mouth of three :אָטֱחֶי לַﬠ - יִפּ יֵנְשׁ ,םיִדֵﬠ וֹא לַﬠ - יִפּ יִפּ .witnesses, shall a matter be established הָשְׁשׁ - םיִדֵﬠ -- םוּקָי .רָבָדּ םוּקָי Deut 19:15

“One witness shall not rise up against a man” and you testified against him alone. You have merely given him a bad reputation.

4

Rabbi Shmuel bar Rav Yitzḥak said that Rav said: Although one who sees another committing a sin should not testify against him by himself, he is nonetheless permitted to hate him, as it is stated: “If you see the donkey of he who hates you lying under its load” (Exodus 23:5). The Gemara clarifies this verse: What is the meaning of he who hates you mentioned in the verse? If you say it is referring to a gentile who hates you, but wasn’t it taught in a baraita that the phrase: He who hates, of which the spoke, is a Jew who hates you, not a gentile who hates you?

Rather, it is obvious that the verse is referring to a Jew who hates you. But is one permitted to hate a fellow Jew? But isn’t it written:

Thou shalt not hate thy brother in thy heart; thou 17 זי אֹל - אָנְשִׂת תֶא - ,יִחָא ;ֶבָבְלִבּ ;ֶבָבְלִבּ ,יִחָא shalt surely rebuke thy neighbour, and not bear sin כוֹה ֵ ַ ח כוֹתּ ִ חי ַ תֶ א - מֲﬠ ,ֶתיִ אֹלְו - אָשִּׂת אָשִּׂת .because of him ויָלָﬠ .אְטֵח ויָלָﬠ Lev 19:17

“You shall not hate your brother in your heart” which clearly prohibits the hatred of another Jew? Rather, perhaps you will say that the verse is referring to a situation where there are witnesses that he performed a sin.

However, in that case, everyone else should also hate him. What is different about this particular person who hates him? Rather, is it not referring to a case like this, when he saw him perform a licentious matter?

He is therefore permitted to hate him for his evil behavior, whereas others who are unaware of his actions may not hate him.

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Rav Naḥman bar Yitzḥak said: Not only is this permitted, it is even a mitzva to hate him, as it is stated: “The fear of God is to hate evil” (Proverbs 8:13). Rav Aḥa, son of Rava, said to : What is the with regard to whether one who saw someone sin may tell his teacher so that he too will hate him? Rav Ashi said to him: If the student knows that he is trusted by his teacher as two witnesses, and therefore his statement will be accepted, he should tell him, and if he is not trusted by his teacher as two witnesses, he should not tell him.

The Sages taught: There are three types of people whose lives are not lives, due to their constant suffering: The compassionate, the hot tempered, and the delicate. Rav Yosef said: All of these attributes are found in me.

Rabba bar bar Ḥana said that Rabbi Shmuel bar Marta said that Rav said, citing Rabbi Yosei of Hutzal: From where is it derived that one may not consult astrologers? As it is stated:

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.Thou shalt be whole-hearted with the LORD thy God 13 גי םיִמָתּ ,הֶיְהִתּ םִﬠ הָוהְי .יֶהֱא הָוהְי םִﬠ ,הֶיְהִתּ םיִמָתּ Deut 18:13

“You shall be wholehearted with the Lord your God”. The Torah demands absolute faith in God and acceptance of His justice, without attempting to predict the future.

RASHI

Steinzaltz

7

Devarim Rabbah 8:6

8 Another explanation: "This commandment etc... is not in heaven." Moses said to them, "Do not say that another Moses stood and brought to us a different Torah from the Heavens, I already informed you all that it is not in Heaven, nothing of it remains in the Heavens."

Another explanation: Rabbi Chanina said, it (the Torah) and all the vessels of belief in It were given; "its' humility, its' justice, its' integrity, and the gift of its' reward. Another possibility: What does, "It is not in Heaven" mean?

Shmuel said, The Torah was not commanded in astrological signs since belief in them is in the heavens. They said to Shmuel, but hey, aren't you an astrologer and also great in Torah? He said to them, I only look at the astrological signs when I am free from the Torah. When is that? When I enter the bathhouse.

TALMIDEI CHACHAMIM IN BAVEL HATE EACH OTHER

Rav Mordechai Kornfeld writes:1

Our daf says that the "Talmidei Chachamim in Bavel despise each other." Certainly, the great and holy Amora'im were not suspect of any sin, let alone the terrible transgression of hate for their colleagues. What does the Gemara mean?

The Gemara in Kidushin (30b) cites the verse:

{Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them; {N 5ה יֵרְשַׁא רֶבֶגַּה -- רֶשֲׁא אֵלִּמ תֶא - they shall not be put to shame, when they speak with their ַא ,וֹתָפְּשׁ :םֶהֵמ {enemies in the gate. {P ֹל א - וּשֹׁבֵי -- יִכּ - וּרְבַּדְי תֶא - וֹא ְ י ִ ב םי םי ִ ב ְ י וֹא .רַﬠָשַּׁבּ Ps 127:5

"Happy is the person who has many children, he will not be embarrassed when he speaks with his enemies at the gate"

The Gemara there asks, "Who are these enemies?" Rebbi Chiya bar Aba answers that the verse refers to a father and his son or to a Rebbi and his Talmid. When they learn together, they are called "enemies" of each other. The Gemara adds that "they do not leave from there until they become beloved unto one another."

Rashi explains that they are "enemies" because they constantly challenge each other with questions and are not satisfied until they are convinced that they have arrived at the truth.

1 https://www.dafyomi.co.il/pesachim/insites/ps-dt-113.htm

9 According to that Gemara, the Talmidei Chachamim in Bavel do not harbor any hatred. Rather, they look like enemies when they learn because they challenge each other like despised enemies, while their sole intention is to arrive at the truth.

Why does the Gemara specifically say that the Talmidei Chachamim in Bavel despise each other, and not those in Eretz Yisrael?

The Gemara in (24a) reveals that the Talmidei Chachamim in Eretz Yisrael were "pleasant to each other" when they argued about Halachah. This is in contrast to the Talmidei Chachamim in Bavel who "fought with heated arguments" when they argued about Halachah (see Rashi there).

When the Gemara there lists examples of Talmidei Chachamim in Eretz Yisrael, it includes only Tana'im. On the other hand, the Talmidei Chachamim in Bavel were all Amora'im. This indicates that the Gemara means that there was Yeridas ha'Doros, a spiritual generation gap. In the times of the Tana'im, it was possible to arrive at the truth through peaceful discussion. By the time of the Amora'im, though, the truth had become cloudy and only intense dialectical disputes had the ability to clarify Torah issues and bring about clear understanding. Accordingly, the "Talmidei Chachamim of Bavel" mentioned in the Gemara here also refers to the Amora'im of Bavel. 2

FOLLOWING ASTROLOGICAL PREDICTIONS

The Gemara teaches that the source for the prohibition against requesting advice or information from the "Kaldiyim" is the verse, "You shall be completely faithful to Hashem your God" (Deut 18:13). The Gemara in Shabbos (156b) describes a "Kalda'ei" as a Nochri astrologer who uses the constellations to predict future events. The Gemara in Shabbos describes this discipline as legitimate and trustworthy. Why, then, does the Gemara here say that one is prohibited to rely on the advice of Kaldiyim?

RASHI here translates "Kaldiyim" as "Ba'alei Ovos," those who divine with bones and commune with dead people. However, in all other places in the Gemara where Kaldiyim are mentioned, Rashi defines the word as "astrologers." Apparently, Rashi understands that the Gemara here in Pesachim cannot refer to astrologers, because -- as the Gemara in Shabbos states -- it is not wrong to take counsel with astrologers.3

RAMBAN (in Teshuvos ha'Meyuchasos #243) and the NIMUKEI YOSEF (Sanhedrin 65b) write that the Gemara here does not mean that there is an Isur d'Oraisa to consult astrologers. If there was such an Isur d'Oraisa, the Gemara would have cited as the source the verse that commands not to be involved in any type of divination (Deut 18:10). It must be that to consult astrologers is not included in that prohibition, and that there is some veracity to the science of astrological prediction. Consequently, if a person is told his astrological forecast, he must not attempt to defy it because he might thereby place himself in danger. Rather, he should heed the warning and avoid the situation which his forecast says is dangerous for him.

2 see MAHARAL in Nesiv ha'Torah 13.

3 TOSFOS and the here take issue with Rashi's definition of "Kaldiyim" as "Ba'alei Ovos."

10 When the Gemara here says that one may not consult with astrologers, it means that the Chachamim advise that one not look into astrology in the first place. Instead, one should place his trust in Hashem and acknowledge that his prayers to Hashem can affect and alter his fate. The Tana'im and Amora'im in the Gemara in Shabbos who were concerned with their astrological forecasts had not gone to consult with astrologers. Rather, they had happened to find out about their predictions. To defy what they had heard in such a manner would have required them to rely on a miracle to save them, and one may not rely on a miracle.

RAMBAM (Hilchos 11:8) rules that an Isur d'Oraisa forbids one to look into his astrological horoscope. How does the Rambam explain the Gemara in Shabbos?

The Gemara there lists each Mazal and its effects on a person born during each Mazal.

However, that information does not tell the person how he should act on any given day in the future. It does not tell him what day good and what day will be bad. Rather, that information merely relates the facts about what that person's tendency will be. Apparently, accepting such information is not included in the prohibition against divining. Similarly, when the Gemara in Shabbos records that Rebbi Akiva was concerned for the astrological prediction that was said about the fate of his daughter, it means that he was merely worried, but he did not act on the prediction of the astrologer.

However, the Rambam writes later (11:16) that anyone who believes that there is any truth in such predictions is foolish and childish. How, then, could Rebbi Akiva and the Amora'im be concerned for the predictions of astrologers?

The Rambam, in his Introduction to Perush ha'Mishnayos, implies that the predictions of astrologers contain truth, but they are not exact.

A person's fate, as seen by the astrologer, is liable to change based on the performance of good deeds (as the Gemara in Shabbos concludes). In Hilchos Avodah Zarah, when the Rambam writes that anyone who believes in astrological predictions is foolish, he means that one must put his faith only in Hashem and acknowledge that Tefilah and Yir'as Shamayim can change one's fate entirely, and that, therefore, it is futile to put one's trust in the Mazalos, as the Gemara in Shabbos concludes.

When Rebbi Akiva was worried about the prediction of the astrologer, he was worried for someone else (his daughter) -- perhaps she might not be God-fearing enough to merit a good future. Similarly, the Gemara in Shabbos says that the mother of bar Yitzchak was worried for the prediction said about Rav Nachman, because perhaps her son did not have enough merit to save him from the fate that the astrologer predicted.

About oneself, though, a person needs not fear; let him simply place his trust in Hashem and perform Mitzvos, and the dreaded outcome will not come to pass.

11 Halacha

RAMBAM: Avodat Kochavim - Chapter Eleven

All the above matters are falsehood and lies with which the original idolaters deceived the gentile nations in order to lead them after them. It is not fitting for the who are wise sages to be drawn into such emptiness, nor to consider that they have any value as [implied by Numbers 23:23]: "No black magic can be found among Jacob, or occult arts within Israel." Similarly, [Deuteronomy 18:14] states: "These nations which you are driving out listen to astrologers and diviners. This is not [what God... has granted] you."

Whoever believes in [occult arts] of this nature and, in his heart, thinks that they are true and words of wisdom, but are forbidden by the Torah, is foolish and feebleminded. He is considered like women and children who have underdeveloped intellects.

12 The masters of wisdom and those of perfect knowledge know with clear proof that all these crafts which the Torah forbade are not reflections of wisdom, but rather, emptiness and vanity which attracted the feebleminded and caused them to abandon all the paths of truth. For these reasons, when the Torah warned against all these empty matters, it advised [Deuteronomy 18:13]: "Be of perfect faith with God, your Lord."

One Who is Despised by God

Steinzaltz (OBM) writes:4

The Gemara often makes use of a statement of aggada to segue to a broader discussion of non- halakhic matters. The teachings of to his son, which appeared on yesterday’s daf, lead the Gemara to quote from a collection of statements made by individual Sages to their children, many of them referring to issues of a mystical and, on occasion, personal, nature.

4 https://steinsaltz.org/daf/pesahim113/

13 One list that is presented tells us about three people who are loved by God, and three that are despised by Him.

The people who God loves include:

• A person who does not get angry • A person who does not get drunk • Someone who is willing to concede his position

The people who God despises are:

• Someone whose speech does not express his true feelings • Someone who withholds testimony on behalf of his fellow that he knows • A single individual who comes to testify about a sexual matter

The Maharsha points out that all of these cases – both the positive list and the negative one – are people whose actions and behaviors affect his relationship with his fellow man, teaching us that someone who gets along with others is loved by God and someone who does not get along with others is hated by Him.

The Gemara gives an example of the last case of someone despised by God. This is like that incident where Tuveya sinned with immorality, and Zigud came alone to testify about him before Rav Pappa. Rav Pappa instructed that Zigud be lashed. Zigud said to him: Tuveya sinned and Zigud is lashed, an objection that became a popular saying. He said to him: Yes, as it is written: “One witness shall not rise up against a man” ( 19:15), and you testified against him alone. You have merely given him a bad reputation.

The problem with a person testifying on his own is that Jewish law does not accept the testimony of a single witness, except in monetary cases where the testimony of a single witness will lead to a ruling that the accused must take an oath that he does not owe the money. In other cases, where the court cannot act based on the single witness, it is simply slander to tell stories about another (see Shulhan Arukh, Hoshen Mishpat 28:1).

Is it indeed permitted to hate a Jew? Doesn’t the Torah say, “Do not hate your brother (a fellow Jew)?” In a case where one saw someone doing something wrong, then it is permitted. R. Nachman bar Yitzchok says in such an instance it is actually a mitzvah to hate him.5

5 https://dafdigest.org/masechtos/Pesachim%20113.pdf

14 It is clear from our daf that when one knows of the sins of someone else (regarding a sin which the perpetrator knows is prohibited (1)) the transgressor is no longer called “your brother.” Therefore, it is no longer prohibited to hate him (for the restriction of hating only applies to someone who has the status of “your brother”).

From our Gemara it is apparent that even if one sins due to yielding to his lusts, and not to spite God, it is still permitted, or even a mitzvah to hate him. [Perhaps this is what the Avos D’Rebbi Noson means (2) when it says, “If one acts like a Jew you should love him, but if he does not act like a Jew you should not love him.”] However, in regard to the halachah of returning a lost object (3) one who sins out of temptation is still considered “your brother” and you must return him his lost objects. There are differing opinions in the (4) on this topic. In practice (5), there is a mitzvah to have mercy upon and perform charitable acts for a Jew who sins out of temptation, provided he does not reject any of the 13 fundamental principles of Judaism. However, if he is given a warning (6) and it goes unheeded, it is indeed a mitzvah to hate him. Others maintain (7) that in our days there is no mitzvah to hate sinners.

According to the Chazon Ish (8), children who grew up in a non-religious environment have the halachic status of a and their actions are considered as if performed under duress. Therefore, one may not hate them.

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Reciprocal Love

Rabbi Jay Kelman writes:6

God's greatest gift to man is that He created us in His image. As heretical as it sounds, man and God are, in effect, opposite sides of the same coin. Flowing from this is the notion that all aspects of our relationship to God must be reflected in our actions towards man, and our actions towards our fellow man must be reflected in our relationship to God. This can best be seen in the aseret hadibrot, which can be read both vertically and horizontally. If the latter, belief in God is juxtaposed to the prohibition of murder, and the prohibition against having many gods is reflected in the prohibition of adultery.

Rabbi Akiva famously taught that the verse "love your neighbour as yourself" is the fundamental principle of the Torah. Thus, the need for a mitzvah to love God. That, too, is perhaps the central mitzvah of our relationship to God, and something we say twice a day as we recite the Shema.

The Rambam, in the final chapter of Hilchot Teshuva, beautifully describes how our love towards our spouses--the primary meaning of re'acha, your neighbor--must lead us to love of God. And if

6 https://www.torahinmotion.org/discussions-and-blogs/daf-yomi-pesachim-113b-reciprocal-love

16 there is a mitzvah to love God, then it must follow that God loves us. We should not be surprised to find that Abraham is described as "My beloved".

Yet in all human interactions, there are people we like more and those we like a bit less. God, too, keviyachol, has some people He likes more than others. And If God likes those people more, well, then so should we.

"Three the Holy One blessed be He loves: one who does not get angry, one who does not get drunk, and one who does not insist on his honor" (Pesachim 113b). This needs little elaboration. Yet it is interesting to note that God's love is aroused not by us actually doing something positive, but by refraining from acting in a particular way. Whereas feelings of love towards a fellow human being are generally triggered by positive actions we take, the love of God towards us is different. Not acting out some of our base motivations is cause enough for God to increase His love towards us.

This idea is reflected in the Torah itself. "Just be strong and do not eat blood...so that it will be good for you and your children after you" (Devarim 12:23, 25). Rashi, quoting our Sages, notes that the Torah is teaching the great reward for mitzvoth; "If blood, for which man has an aversion, one who separates from its merits for him and his children, how much more so for theft and sexual immorality, which the body desires?" If refraining from sin offers so much reward, how much more so does the performance of mitzvoth!

It is not easy to control our anger--the greatest of our people, Moshe Rabbeinu, fell victim to this on at least three occasions, demonstrating the rabbinic dictum that "he who comes to anger comes to mistake" (see Rashi, Num 31:21). According to many commentaries, it was anger that cost Moshe his leadership and his opportunity to enter the land of Israel. Nor is it easy to control our alcohol intake--Noach, who is described by God as "a righteous and pure person", tragically got drunk, leading to his castration; and who amongst us is willing to waive honour due us?

Yet, if we can do so, we will merit the great love of God. There can be no greater reward and no greater motivation than that.

Permitted and Forbidden Hatred

Rav Binyamin Zimmerman writes:7

Introduction

In last week's lesson we discussed the nature of the prohibition “Do not hate (Lo tisna) your brother in your heart.” Despite the severity of “Lo tisna,” some sources indicate that under specific circumstances, this prohibition may be waived. Is there ever really permission to hate a fellow Jew, and if so, under what circumstances and for what purpose?

7 https://www.etzion.org.il/en/shiur-15-permitted-and-forbidden-hatred

17 An analysis of the Torah's terminology is necessary in order to understand the scope of the prohibition.

Reiakha and Achikha, Love and Hate

The question of who is included in the prohibition of hatred parallels the question regarding who is included in the mitzva of loving one's fellow Jew. The two are found next to each other in Vayikra 19:17-18, the former speaking of “reiakha” (your fellow) and the latter of “achikha” (your brother). What is the connotation of each?

The Rambam, in a number of places, indicates that the obligation of love extends to all Jews. In Hilkhot De'ot (6:3), he unequivocally extends the obligation to all Jews, without limitation:

There is a mitzva falling upon everyone to love each individual Jew as himself, as it is stated: "You shall love your fellow as yourself."

The may provide a source to back up this assertion. Sanhedrin 45a expounds this verse to give a criminal sentenced to capital punishment a proper (i.e., humane) death, clearly implying that the obligation of loving one's fellow applies to every Jew, even condemned criminals.

Logic would dictate that the same should apply to the inverse, the prohibition of hatred. If one must love every Jew, then one must be enjoined from hating any Jew. However, this may not be true. The Talmud notes that despite the prohibition of hating one's brother, another verse in the Torah makes explicit reference to one’s foe, an individual whom one hates.

If you come across your enemy's ox or donkey going astray, you must certainly bring it back to him. If you see your foe’s donkey lying under its load and you refrain from helping him, you must certainly help him. ( 23:4-5)

The Talmud (Pesachim 113b) discusses the law applying to an individual whose unseemly behavior has been witnessed by only one person, and it resolves the contradiction between the two verses, the prohibition to hate another Jew and the obligation to help a hated Jew:

Rabbi Shmuel bar Rav Yitzchak: “It is permissible to hate him, as it is said. ‘If you see your foe’s donkey lying under its load.'” Now which foe is meant? Shall we say a non- Jewish foe? It was taught: “The foe of whom they spoke is a Jewish foe, not a non-Jewish foe.” Hence, it obviously means a Jewish foe. But is it permitted to hate him? Surely it is written, “Do not hate your brother in your heart”! Again, if there are witnesses that any Jew transgressed, all agree that he should be hated! Why is this particular person singled out? Hence it must surely apply to such a case where he has seen something indecent in him. said: “It is a duty to hate him, as it is written (Mishlei 8:13), ‘God's commandment is to hate wickedness.’”

This Talmud implies that there are situations in which it is permissible and perhaps even obligatory to hate a fellow Jew, if the other Jew has violated a commandment. Even if “reiakha” includes all

18 Jews in the obligation of love, “achikha” may exclude certain people, namely those who engage in blatant violations of commandments. In other words, the implication is that one is obligated to hate an evildoer.

This Talmudic passage requires analysis. While the Talmud does resolve the contradiction between the two verses via its distinction between evildoers and others, the nature of this law is unclear. Why does one who performs evil lose the status of “achikha”? What is to be accomplished through this hatred? If it is in fact true that one must love all Jews, including evildoers, how can one simultaneously love and hate?

Even if we accept that one can lose the status of “achikha,” we must define the point at which this happens. The simple understanding of the passage is that one who performs a sin, even once, may be hated. Is this really sufficient?

Reasons for Hate

In order to better understand this issue, we must identify different forms of "hate". In truth, the word "hate" is a very strong word. However, there is a logical reason why one would want to limit one’s love for an individual whose behavior is detrimental. Sometimes, despite our love for another, we must distance ourselves from a friend who is liable to have a harmful influence.

This might be better understood based on the context of the Torah's directive regarding hate. The Torah links the prohibition of hatred to the positive commandment of providing rebuke and constructive criticism to one who has sinned. In last week's lesson, we noted that numerous commentators understood the verse as one continuum. One must not hate an individual who has wronged him or her internally, concealing his true emotions; rather, one must speak constructively and positively to the offender.

The whole gist of the prohibition of hatred is to be productive. Instead of hating, a Jew is supposed to react positively to a misdeed. Sometimes showing hatred, a lack of approval of the other’s actions, may accomplish just that. This idea finds expression in the comments of the Semak (17), who writes:

The Torah cautions us regarding someone whom we are allowed to hate — for example, one who has committed a transgression. Despite this, it is prohibited to hate this individual privately in one's heart while publicly expressing love; rather one is obligated to display his hatred.

This also appears to be the opinion of Rashi (Arakhin 16b): the verse is referring to a transgressor; the victim is forbidden to hate in his or her heart. Instead, the victim must rebuke and improve the other’s behavior.

In truth, the terminology used by the verse mandating love of one’s fellow Jew differs from that used in the prohibition of hatred, and this distinction between “reiakha” and “achikha” may tell us something. A "fellow" would include a varied degree of individuals, including acquaintances and even people who are very different. A "brother", on the other hand, can refer to

19 one of two types of people: either a blood brother or someone whose closeness can be expressed in terms of a fraternal relationship. These two meanings may combine to explain why it is more limited. A brotherly relationship may persist despite bad behavior; however, the metaphorical closeness requires a backdrop of shared values and actions. One whose behavior distances himself from his metaphorical brethren would cease to be their kith and kin.

Always a Brother?

Ostensibly one may lose the status of “achikha,” but Rav S.R. Hirsch points out that, to a certain degree, the opposite is true. Though many commentators explain the prohibition of hatred as dealing with one who has wronged another, in which case resentment is only natural, Rav Hirsch (ad loc.) points out that the language of the verse is meant to remind us of the bigger picture. At its root, “achikha” reminds us of the verb “acha”, to mend or sew.

The assumption in this prohibition is that our brother's misbehavior toward us is liable to provoke hatred in our hearts… Such feelings are only natural in a heart not sensitized by the Torah, but they must not arise in our hearts. Even if our brother has done us many wrongs… he always remains our brother. After all, we are all God's children, and we are all sewn together, joined in brotherhood to each other through God. We are brothers, the children of one Father, and for the sake of this one Father, Who still calls him His son and reserves for him a place in His house and in His heart, hatred must not arise in our hearts…

Again, there is nothing as effective for removing hate from the heart as the idea implicit in the word achikha. Every man is a brother in God's house; in our Father's house, there is no place for hate arising out of jealousy.

In a similar way, even when dealing with one who hasn't wronged us personally but has wronged God, though his actions require a response on our part, we mustn't forget the bigger picture. Jews are family, and we must prevent a breakup.

On a homiletic level, the proper way to treat one who has sinned in light of the status of "achikha" may be dependent on the difference of opinion regarding whether Jews remain children of the Almighty if they are no longer dutiful offspring. The Talmud ( 36a) records:

“‘You are children to Lord your God’ (Devarim 14:2) — when you act like children you are called children; if you do not act like children, you are not called children” — these are the words of Rabbi Yehuda. Rabbi Meir says: “One way or the other you are called children.”

Rabbi Meir then goes on to cite many verses in which the Jews are rebuked for their misbehavior but still referred to as God’s children. If all Jews are brothers because we are all children of God, then whether estranged Jews are included in the category of “achikha” may depend on whether estranged Jews remain children of God. If we endorses Rabbi Meir’s view, in the same way in which they remain God's children, they would also retain the status of brothers.

Limitations on Hatred

20

Despite the lifting of the prohibition of hatred regarding certain classes of evildoers, the Torah goes out of its way to indicate that under certain conditions, these individuals are actually treated with preference. Let us return to the verses cited earlier. Regarding returning lost objects the Torah states:

If you come across your enemy's ox or donkey going astray, you must certainly bring it back to him.

Regarding an animal that collapsed under its load, the Torah states:

If you see your foe’s donkey lying under its load and you refrain from helping him, you must certainly help him.

Even though one is allowed to hate a sinner, the Torah also requires one to return the lost object.

In fact, some commentators understood the verse differently, explaining that “your foe” should not be understood as “one whom you hate” but rather “one who hates you.”

The Ibn Ezra explains that “your foe” refers to “one who is hostile to you.” Likewise, Rav A. Astruc (Midreshei Ha-Torah, cited by Nechama Leibowitz) explains:

This means that if you see the donkey of he who hates you lying under its burden, and he will not ask you for your help because of his hatred for you… you nevertheless must not refrain from assisting him now that he needs you, though you do not need him. The Torah teaches you to ignore such conduct and behave in a noble-minded and magnanimous manner, offering him your help.

However, most commentators accept the Talmud's explanation that the verse refers to helping an individual whom one despises, though it is permitted to hate this individual for his or her sins. As the Semag (Positive 80-81) writes:

It refers to a case in which one sees his fellow behave sinfully, which allows him to hate his fellow if he warns him but his fellow does not repent… Nevertheless the Torah cautions to be sympathetic and help him in his need.

The Torah doesn't want a rift to develop between Jews; distancing a sinner by refusing to help him is counterproductive. Though there is no absolute prohibition to hate another Jew, there is a comprehensive mandate to love, cherish and take care of one’s fellow Jew, even though the same closeness may no longer exist.

This idea is furthered by a number of sources that clearly indicate that we should hate wickedness but not the wicked. The passage in 10a states:

There were once some thugs in the neighborhood of Rabbi Meir who caused him a great deal of trouble. Rabbi Meir therefore prayed that they should die. His wife Beruria said to

21 him: “What do you think? Because it is written: Let sinners cease? Is it indeed written ‘sinners’? It is written ‘sins’ (Tehillim 104:35)! Further, look at the end of the verse: ‘And then the wicked will be no more.’ Once the sins cease, then the wicked will be no more! Rather pray for them that they should repent, and the wicked will be no more.” He did pray for them, and they repented.

Similarly, Rav Tzvi Yehuda Ha- Kook (Li-ntivot Yisrael 2) remarks on this, expounding the High Holiday liturgy:

In every place where we find references to hatred, we understand clearly that the intent is only to oppose the phenomenon of evil and to fight the impurity of evil; it is not directed against people, as we say, "All wickedness will vanish like smoke."

His father, Rav Avraham Yitzchak Ha-Kohen Kook (Siddur, Olat Re’iya II 412:56), even advises to follow the opinion of the Vilna Gaon regarding the daily prayers, emending the twelfth blessing of the Amida: instead of "May all of the blasphemers be instantly destroyed," the proper text should be "May all wickedness be instantly destroyed."

The Meshekh Chokhma provides a penetrating insight into the permissibility of actually hating an evildoer. He notes the variations between the descriptions in Shemot (23:5) and Devarim (22:4) describing the mitzva to assist one who is hauling a load on his donkey. Only in Shemot is the individual referred to as “your foe,” while in Devarim, the term is “your brother,” the antonym, referring to the one in need in fraternal, rather than adversarial, terms. He explains:

This was said prior to the Sin of the Golden Calf, when all of Israel was “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (Shemot 19:6); at that point, it was permitted to hate a person who had committed a blatant sin. However, this did not remain true after Israel's repeated sinful acts. From that point onward, whenever encountering a sinner, we must examine our own conduct, which is not free of faults; one may fall short in this area, another in that area. It is, therefore, forbidden for anyone whose conduct is not free of all blemishes to hate another Jew. But there are very few individuals who fit that bill, as the Talmud states (Sukka 45b): "I have seen eminent men, but they are few."

Essentially, the Meshekh Chokhma limits the license to hate to those of supreme perfection, which he sees in the verses’ change in terminology as almost nonexistent after the Sin of the Golden Calf. The term "achikha" essentially returns the prohibition to its original force, as all Jews are brethren in their flawed nature.

The Parameters of Hatred

The above-cited sources would indicate that there is a difference of opinion on whether it is actually permitted to hate another Jew who is a sinner. However, even if hating is permitted, its parameters must be defined. As (Pesachim, ad loc.) point out, evidently even when one is permitted to hate certain individuals, the license is limited.

22

Tosafot (s.v. She-raa) are bothered by the fact that the Talmud elsewhere ( 32b) says that one should first help his "foe" to load his donkey before he assists his friend to unload his donkey "in order that one limit his desire to hate." If “your foe” refers to a sinner, then why must one be helpful to this individual, if the desire to hate is positive? Tosafot answer:

Since he hates the sinning individual, the sinner will hate him as well, as it says (Mishlei 27:19) "As a face opposite water reflects another face, so do people reflect each other's hearts,” and this will lead to complete hatred. Therefore, limiting one's inclination to hate is called for.

Tosafot distinguish between permitted, limited hatred and forbidden, absolute hatred. However, they do not fully explain the distinction.

The Machatzit Ha-shekel (OC 156:2) explains that the fear is that one will continue to hate even after the transgressor has repented, when it is no longer permitted. Rav Tzvi Yehuda Ha- kohen Kook, however, explains this a little differently.

Tosafot give us a deep psychological insight. The verse in the book of Mishlei says, “As a face opposite water reflects another face, so do people reflect each other's hearts.” If the religious fail to behave with love toward the irreligious, the latter feel hated and rejected. They sense that religious people only have love for other religious people and that they look upon the irreligious with condemnation. This situation arises from reverence for God, but the irreligious person is left dejected. This causes conflict, and the situation continues and worsens until it reaches total hatred, may God save us. The origin point is a valid response to spiritual failing. The initial hatred isn't complete, but it grows until it becomes utter abhorrence, and this is something truly awful.

Hating a sinner is a necessary evil, but at the same time it is a terrible reality which may get out of control. The Torah seeks to remind us that even when hating others is necessary, one’s strong negative feelings must be limited. Otherwise, these feelings may be shorn of their constructive aim, namely not learning from the errors of others.

This is expressed by the Rambam at the end of Hilkhot Rotzeiach (13:14), where he writes:

The foe mentioned in the Torah is not a non-Jew, but rather a Jew. One might ask: how is it possible for one Jew to hate another? Is it not written (Vayikra 19:17): "Do not hate your brother in your heart"? Our Sages explain that this is referring to a person who while alone sees a colleague violate a transgression and rebukes him, but the colleague does not cease transgressing. In such an instance, it is a mitzva to hate the person until he repents and abandons his wickedness. Even if he has not repented yet, if one sees him in panic because of his cargo, it is a mitzva to unload and reload with him, instead of leaving him inclined toward death, lest he tarry because of his money and be brought to danger. For the Torah shows concern for the lives of the Jewish people, both the wicked and the righteous, for they are attached to God and believe in the fundamentals of our faith.

23 The Torah's care about the estranged Jew is reflected in this balance: it is permissible to hate, but the need to show care is overwhelming.

Applicability in Our Day

The various sources quoted above refer to a license to hate under certain circumstances. One might wonder if in our current reality, or even in the reality of the past hundred years, factors might not have contributed to a reevaluation based on the Torah's description of the preconditions for permitting hatred. A number of commentators speak of a connection between hatred and rebuke. Both the Rambam and the Chinnukh require it. The latter (Mitzva 238) states:

Regarding hatred of wicked people, there is no prohibition. Rather, it is a mitzva to hate them after we have reproved them many times about their transgressions and they have refused to desist, for it is stated, "For indeed those who hate you, God, I hate them, and I argue with those who rise up against You" (Tehillim 139:21).

Rav Yehonatan Voliner (in Marganita Tava, printed by the Chafetz Chayim as an addendum to Ahavat Chesed, 17) explains the practical ramifications of the understanding that links the permissibility of hatred to the need for proper rebuke:

Even concerning wicked people, the Maharam of Lublin explains that we are prohibited to hate them unless we have reproved them for their actions. However, there is no one in this generation who knows how to reprove effectively (as the Talmud, Arakhin 16b, states), and perhaps if this sinners were to be reproved properly, they would listen and repent. Furthermore, perhaps their natural tendency towards evil has caused them to behave this way, as it is written, “Do not judge your fellow until you have been in a similar position” (Avot 2:4). It is definitely prohibited to curse them. Rather, we should seek compassion on their behalf that God may help him to repent.

Rav Voliner transforms the permitted behavior of hating a sinner into an obligation of care and concern for their welfare. The practical ramifications of this understanding would be a complete abrogation of the right to hate those involved in sin.

In fact, this would be the understanding of the Chazon Ish, who points out (YD 2:28) that a precondition for being able to treat sinners as apostates is that they receive adequate rebuke; otherwise, they are considered to be acting under compulsion and incapable of acting differently. After quoting a number of sources, including those we have quoted, he concludes that one cannot treat sinners as apostates, which would preclude our hating them.

The Tzitz Eliezer offers a more minimalistic understanding of when it is forbidden to hate a sinner, one that opens the door for a more concrete outlook. He is bothered by the fact that the Chafetz Chayim seems to be inconsistent: if one may not hate evildoers in generations in which there is no effective rebuke, how can he write elsewhere of individuals who are to be treated harshly on account of their severe transgressions? He offers an interesting distinction as a possibility for explaining the Chafetz Chayim's position:

24 It is possible that the Chafetz Chayim differentiates between one who sins privately and one whose wickedness also serves as a stumbling-block for others. One must hate evildoers like the latter, even in our day and age… for they rise up against the Torah and attempt to enact laws that will sway people away from God; they are a stumbling block for the community and, therefore, one would be obligated to hate them…

The Tzitz Eliezer provides a logical outlook upon the whole question of hating the wicked. In truth, one who loves God's creations — all the more so one who recognizes the inherent holiness of the Jewish people — will be able to distinguish between the actions of a Jew and that individual’s inner spiritual purity. At the same time, continuing to love a Jew who is deeply involved in sin is dangerous, as one is liable to be swayed by this model of behavior. For this reason one may hate an individual whose actions are sinful if one has effectively reproved this individual but the latter shows no intent of changing. Again, this hatred serves to distance oneself from a bad influence. However, in our times, in which rebuke can no longer be done effectively, we must focus our energies on compassion for sinners, realizing that we don't know how to aid them effectively.

Nonetheless, when we are dealing with individuals who go beyond sinning against the Torah by actively plotting against Jewish causes and spiritual necessities, the proper response remains hatred. Here the hatred is necessary not only to prevent oneself from learning from others’ actions; to effectively combat their attempts, we have to be steadfast in our commitment to the Torah and our understanding that their unacceptable behavior requires a swift response on our part. However, deep inside, we realize that they cannot be held culpable for their actions, and we continue to pray that their evil may be removed and that these individuals may return to being our brothers.

Returning to the Status of “Brother”

In Devarim 25:1-3, the Torah uses two terms to refer to an individual sentenced to corporal punishment: first, "rasha” (wicked) and then, "achikha."

The Talmud ( 23a) explains:

“And your brother may be degraded” — initially he is called wicked, but only up until the time he is flogged; once he has been flogged, the Torah calls him "brother."

One should not view a sinning brother as eternally doomed; instead, one must be constantly mindful of how to help. Despite the various sources allowing hatred in certain circumstances, it certainly is not always permitted. There is a specific form of hatred, called baseless hatred, which is so detrimental that the Talmud points to it as the cause of the destruction of the ( 9b). In our next lesson, we will try to understand this forbidden form of hatred and to arrive at a conclusion as to how to look upon one's fellow Jew.

25

In the Babylonian Talmud astrologers are known as kaldiyyim (Pes. 113b),

Aramaic kalda'ei (Shab. 119a, 156b; Yev. 21b) – a term used by the Greeks, Romans, and Syrians. Iẓtagninin ("astrologers") and iẓtagninut ("astrology") were also common terms. In the Talmud and in Palestinian Midrashim astrologos and astrologiyya are the most frequent terms. The majority of the talmudic sages believed in the decisive role played by celestial bodies in determining human affairs in the sublunar world. On the one hand the patriarch Abraham and his descendants are spoken of as having been elevated beyond subjection to the stars (Gen. R. 44:12; Yal., Jer. 285), but on the other hand, the blessing bestowed on him in Genesis 24:1 is interpreted as the gift of astrology (Tosef., Kid. 5:17). Astrological consultation is one of the methods suggested by Jethro to Moses for governing the Children of Israel (Mekh., Amalek 2).

Several instances are cited of astrologers whose predictions of future events came true (e.g., Shab. 119a). Gentile rulers were considered to have been especially well versed in astrology or to have consulted astrological experts; but knowledge of astrology was also attributed to King Solomon (Eccl. R. 7:23 no. 1). Nevertheless, the rabbis of the Talmud were skeptical of the astrologers' ability to interpret the stars correctly; they conceded the possibility that the astrologers might be able to predict the future by consulting the stars, but claimed that they err in understanding the contents of their forecasts.

On the basis of the phrase in Isaiah 8:19, "the familiar spirits that chirp and mutter" (ha- meẓafẓefim ve-ha-mahgim), they developed the exegesis: "They gaze (ẓofin) and know not at what they gaze, they ponder (mehaggin) and know not what they ponder" (Sot. 12b). In several places in the Talmud it is stated that every man has a celestial body (mazzal), i.e., a particular star which is his patron from conception and birth (Shab. 53b; BK 2b) and which perceives things unknown to the man himself (Meg. 3a; Sanh. 94a).

Two people born under the same star have a bodily and spiritual kinship (Ned. 39b; BM 30b). Not only human beings are influenced by the stars; but "there is not a blade of grass that has not its star in the heavens to strike it and say to it: grow!" Stars in certain constellations (the Pleiades, Orion, Ursa Major) were connected with the growth and ripening of fruits (Gen. R. 10:6).

26 kaldiyyim, kalda'ei,

In early classical rabbinic works written in the land of Israel (Jerusalem Talmud and midrash compilations) astrologers are known as astrologos and astrologiyya.8 In early classical rabbinic works written in Babylonia, astrologers were called kaldiyyim, kalda'ei, and iztagninin.[10]

Is astrology valid?

The most popular form of astrological belief in this period was to regard certain periods of time as lucky or unlucky. For example, Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi listed the character traits associated with one's having been born on specific days of the week; R' dissented and said that character traits are determined by the planet under whose influence one was born.[11] An announcement is found to the effect that it is dangerous to drink water on Tuesday and Friday evenings.[12] Samuel of Nehardea, a physician and astrologer, taught that it was dangerous to bleed a patient on Tuesday (as well as on Monday or Thursday for a different reason), because Mars reigns at the midheaven. The new moon was likewise regarded as an unfavorable season for bleeding, as were also the third of the month and the day preceding a festival.[13]

Ecclesiastes Rabbah states that the rulers of some non-Jewish nations were experts in astrology, and that King Solomon too had expertise in this realm.[14]

In general, many people quoted in the Talmud believed that in theory astrology had merit as some kind of science, but they were skeptical that astrological signs could be interpreted correctly or in a practical fashion. In one place the Talmud that astrologers "gaze and know not at what they gaze at, ponder and know not what they ponder."[15]

According to Jacob Neusner, in this period "magic, astrology, and occult sciences... were regarded as advanced sciences... to reject them, the Jews and their leaders would have had to ignore the most sophisticated technological attainments of contemporary civilization."[16]

Does astrology apply to Israel?

Some rabbis held that the stars generally do control the fate of people and nations, but Abraham and his descendants were elevated by their covenant with God, and thus achieve an elevated level of free will.[17]

In the Talmud, two rabbis (R. Yohanan and Rav) held that "there is no mazal (literally "constellation") for Israel, but only for the nations", while one held the contrary, that astrology does apply to Israel.[18]

8 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jewish_views_on_astrology

27 It is said that Abraham predicted via astrological tablets that he would have no second son, but God said to him, "Away with your astrology; for Israel there is no mazal!" The birth of his second son, the patriarch Isaac, then disproves the idea that astrology applies to Israel.[18] Genesis Rabbah states that Abraham was not an astrologer, but rather a prophet, inasmuch as only those beneath the stars could be subject to their influence; but that Abraham was above them.[19]

Is it permitted for Jews to practice astrology?

Samuel of Nehardea is the only sage in the Talmud who seriously studied astrology, yet he held that it was not compatible with Judaism. Quoting Deuteronomy 30:12, "The Law is not in the Heavens", he is reputed to have taught that "Torah cannot go together with the art that studies the heavens".[20]

Similarly, Jose of Hutzal prohibited consulting an astrologer: "We are not permitted to appeal to the Chaldeans, for it is written (Deuteronomy 18:13), 'You shall be perfect with the Lord your God'".[21]

Several sources record that Rabbi Akiva prohibited the practice of astrology.[22] The biblical Patriarch Abraham is said to have known astrology, with many people congregated before him to seek advice.[23] This may indicate a more positive attitude towards the practice of astrology.

1. Ancient : Astrology 2. ^ 156a 3. ^ Pesachim 112a 4. ^ Shabbat 129b 5. ^ Ecclesiastes Rabbah 7:23 no. 1 6. ^ 12b 7. ^ Jacob Neusner, ‘How Much Iranian in Jewish Babylonia?’, Journal of the American Oriental Society, Vol. 95, No. 2 (Apr.-Jun., 1975), p.189 8. ^ Genesis Rabbah 44:12, Yal., Jer. 285 9. ^ Jump up to:a b Shabbat 156a 10. ^ Genesis Rabbah 44:12 11. ^ Deuteronomy Rabbah 8:6 12. ^ Pesachim 113b 13. ^ Sanhedrin 65b, Sifre, Deuteronomy 171, Sifra 6 'ר רזעלא יעדומה רמוא וז תונינגטצא התיהש ]ודיב[ לש םהרבא ניבא ו לכהש ויה ןיאב וינפל : Kiddushin 5:17. Text ^ .14

A Late Antique Babylonian Rabbinic Treatise on Astrology

Richard Kalmin writes:9

This study supports my claim in earlier research that the fourth century CE is an important turning point in Babylonian Jewish history, a time when texts, attitudes, literary motifs, and modes of

9 https://brill.com/previewpdf/book/edcoll/9789004235458/B9789004235458_010.xml

28 behavior deriving from the west, particularly the eastern Roman provinces, achieved literary expression in the Babylonian Talmud (BT), often for the first time.1

Also, this study supports my claim that (a) Babylonia increasingly became part of the Mediterranean world in late antiquity and/or that (b) Syria, Palestine, and Mesopotamia increasingly became a cultural unity during this period, particularly beginning in the fourth century.

I am certainly not suggesting that there was no exchange between Mesopotamia and the Roman Empire, or between Syria and Palestine on the one hand and Mesopotamia on the other, prior to the fourth century.

Rather, my claim, articulated in much greater detail in earlier research, is that events of the mid- third century led to a period of vigorous westernization of Mesopotamia, which first achieves literary expression in Jewish and Christian sources of the fourth century, and that the exchange between the regions was largely one way, from west to east, during most of this period.2

Many modern scholars have discussed ancient rabbinic attitudes toward astrology. Scholarly discussions have been hampered, however, by a lack of familiarity with the latest tools of modern critical scholarship on rabbinic literature,3 and at times an inability to understand rabbinic texts on their most basic level.4

A fresh look at the evidence is therefore a desideratum. I confine the discussion to cases in which it is clear that the rabbis (a) divine God’s will or the future based on the movements or appearance of heavenly bodies or (b) acknowledge that heavenly bodies influence the course of events on earth.

The Hebrew and Aramaic words mazal and mazla⁠ʾ are conventionally translated as “planet,” “constellation,” “heavenly body,” “fortune,” and even “guardian angel.”5

Since it is impossible to capture all of these nuances with a single English word, I generally leave these words untranslated, relying on context to convey the meaning or accompanying them with an explanation.

1 Richard Kalmin, Jewish Babylonia Between Persia and Roman Palestine (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006); and idem, “The Miracle of the Septuagint,” in The Lee Levine Jubilee Volume (ed. Zeev Weiss et al.; Eisenbrauns: Winona Lakes, IN: 2010), 239–51. 2 See Fergus Millar, The Roman Near East, 31 BC–AD 337 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1993), 510. See also pages 516–17 and Kalmin, Jewish Babylonia, 186. 3 To give just one example, see Kocku von Stuckrad, Das Ringen um die Astrologie: Jüdische und Christliche Beiträge zum Antiken Zeitverständnis (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2000), 496–97, who quotes bSuk 29a incompletely without the crucial statement that when Israel does the will of God it has no need to worry about the power of the luminaries. Von Stuckrad maintains incorrectly that the text supports the idea that astrology works for everyone, Jew and non-Jew alike. See also pages 476–77, where he fails to distinguish between the Hebrew statement attributed to Rav in bShab 156a (paralleled in Gen Rabbah 44:12 [ J. Theodor and Ch. Albeck, eds., Midrasch Bereschit Rabba mit kritischem Apparat und Kommentar {Berlin, 1903–1929; 2d ed.; Jerusalem: Wahrmann Books, 1965}], 432) and the anonymous editorial give and take (in Aramaic) based on Rav’s statement, without parallel in any Palestinian compilation. 4 Von Stuckrad, Das Ringen, 460. In addition, von Stuckrad, ibid., 452, uses ancient and medieval rabbinic compilations indiscriminately, leading to distortions in his accounts of the late antique rabbinic views. 5 See Michael Sokoloff, A Dictionary of Babylonian Jewish Aramaic (Ramat-Gan, Israel: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2002), 653– 54. Compare idem, A Dictionary of Palestinian Jewish Aramaic (Ramat-Gan, Israel: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1992), 298.

29 6 Compare Solomon Gandz, “The Origin of the Planetary Week or the Planetary Week in Hebrew Literature,” Proceedings of the American Academy of Jewish Research 18 (1948– 49): 213–67 (repr. Studies in Hebrew Astronomy and Mathematics [New York: Ktav, 1970], 169–210); Von Stuckrad, Das Ringen, 460–80; and Gregg Gardner, “Astrology in the Talmud: An Analysis of Bavli Shabbat 156,” in Heresy and Identity in Late Antiquity, (ed. Holger Zellentin and Eduard Iricinschi; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 314–38. My thanks to Professor Zellentin for making the page proofs available to me prior to publication. Jeffrey L. Rubenstein, “Talmudic Astrology: Bavli Šabbat 156a–b,” Hebrew Union College Annual 78 (2007): 109–48, reached me too late to incorporate into this article. 7 bShab 156a (R. Yehoshua ben Levi and R. Hanina).

Migrating Tales: The Talmud's Narratives and Their Historical Context

Reviewed by: Tziona Grossmark10

Richard Kalmin11 devotes the seventh chapter to astrology,12 focusing on the cycle of tales in Bavli Shabbat 156a–b. He confines his discussion to cases in “which it is clear that the rabbis (a) divine God’s will or the future based on the movements or appearance of heavenly bodies, or (b) acknowledge that heavenly bodies influence the course of events on earth” (MG 176).

In this chapter too the author demonstrates an impressive acquaintance with a wide variety of sources, which he employs as the background against which the rabbinic text can be fully understood. The author maintains that “the notion that ‘Israel has no mazal’ 13 reached Babylonia from Jewish, Christian, or pagan sources from eastern Roman provinces apparently during the fourth century” (MG 199). These traditions were reshaped and used by the editors of the Babylonian Talmud in order to support their own views, for example, “that God had the power to overcome the power of the stars, either by virtue of his own free choice or by virtue of his decision to reward Jews who performed good deeds” (MG 199). But, at the end of the chapter, Kalmin mentions that this source of influence on Babylonian rabbinic perceptions is only one of several. In conclusion, while the author’s main argument is that “it is critically important to study the Bavli in light of multiple cultural contexts, and that many parallels between Mesopotamian literature and literature from the Roman East are evidence of either direct or indirect contact mediated by a third source (MG 80),” he also maintains “that while the Roman East provides the bulk of the story’s raw material, the rabbis’ own cultural context in Babylonia provides a critically-important prism through which to understand the story” (MG 122).

Kalmin demonstrates real mastery in dealing with this great variety of primary sources that cover a critical portion of the literary data and represent a wide range of cultures in Late Antiquity. In his previous book, Kalmin analyzed the importance of the eastern provinces of the Roman Empire

10 Mediterranean Studies , Vol. 24, No. 1 (2016)

11 Migrating Tales: The Talmud’s Narratives and Their Historical Context. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2014.

12 See also R. Kalmin, “The Pharisees in Rabbinic Literature,” Sidra 24/25 (2010): vi–xxviii. 23. See also R. Kalmin, “Problems in the Use of the Babylonian Talmud for the History of Late-Antique Roman Palestine: The Example of Astrology,” in M. Goodman and P. Alexander, eds., Rabbinic Text and the History of Late-Roman Palestine (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), 165–83; Kalmin, “A Late-Antique Babylonian Rabbinic Treatise on Astrology,” in Secunda and Fine, Shoshanat Yaakov, 165–84.

13 Kalmin thoroughly describes the various nuances and meanings of the Hebrew word mazal and therefore leaves the word untranslated. In this cycle, the phrase “Israel has no mazal” means that “astrological forces have no effect on Israel” (MG 176).

30 in understanding the Babylonian literature, and he has published some of the chapters of the current book as separate articles in the past. Nevertheless, their inclusion in this new book—the framework of which reinforces his hypothesis—is of great benefit to the reader. In fact, this book is another link in deciphering what we may call “the Babylonian rabbinic narrative genome.” This book therefore not only is an important contribution to the research of Talmudic literature and rabbinic society, but also can serve any field of research that examines the multicultural net of influences in this part of the world from Late Antiquity to the early Middle Ages. The book also contains an extensive list of primary sources, a bibliography, and two indexes.

MALKA Z. SIMKOVICH writes:14

In recent decades there has been a renewed interest in studying Talmudic texts as self-contained literary units that were carefully structured and edited. Scholars using this approach tend to analyze rabbinic literature outside of its historical context. Other scholars, however, prefer to explore how traditions preserved in rabbinic literature respond to, or influence, non-Jewish texts and traditions. Richard Kalmin’s latest book is a remarkable contribution that fuses both of these approaches by studying the literary elements of Talmudic passages alongside non-Jewish parallels. These parallels, Kalmin suggests, reflect cultural sharing between rabbinic and non-rabbinic communities. Kalmin studies eight legends that are preserved in the Babylonian Talmud alongside an array of parallel traditions in texts deriving from the eastern provinces of the Roman Empire.

He argues that these traditions were shared in communities that were home to Christians, Jews, and pagans. The book ultimately makes a compelling case for looking beyond the rabbinic world when studying Talmudic legends. According to Kalmin, the fourth century CE saw an increase in rabbinic awareness of cultural material that was circulating in the Roman east. This increased awareness led to the refashioning and incorporating of non-rabbinic material into rabbinic texts. As rabbinic authors synthesized non-rabbinic traditions with their own material, they reworked these traditions and incorporated them into their own new arguments.

Cultural exchange between the rabbis and others in the Roman east went in both directions; some Talmudic tales in turn influenced non-Jews. In his lucid and accessible writing style, Kalmin examines eight cases of Talmudic legends which show parallels to non-rabbinic sources. In chapter one, he explores the legend about the biblical prophet Isaiah being sawed in half. Kalmin traces the tradition from its first appearance in The Ascension of Isaiah, which he regards as a first or second-century CE document likely composed in the land of Israel, and then onward in the Yerushalmi, in the writings of the Church Fathers, in texts written by Persians, and in the Babylonian Talmud. Kalmin views the parallel traditions found in these texts as evidence of increasing “cultural unity” in the fourth century (p. 52).

In his second chapter, Kalmin argues that rabbinic sources appropriated Christian texts regarding the exorcist St. Bartholomew by depicting Bartholomew himself as a demon. In chapter three he considers the legend of the translation of the Hebrew Bible into Greek, which began in the third century BCE. Kalmin studies accounts of the translation preserved in the Babylonian Talmud and in Jewish texts such as The Letter of Aristeas and the writings of Philo and , alongside

14 SCJR 12, no. 1 (2017): 1-3

31 Christian texts written in Greek, Latin, and Syriac. Fourth-century CE sources seem to pick up on the legend and expand it. In chapter four, Kalmin explores the trope of Solomon’s interactions with demonic figures that makes its way into the Talmud as well as into The Testament of Solomon, along with early Christian texts found at Nag Hammadi.

In chapter five, perhaps the book’s most elegant and complex chapter, Kalmin studies how the legend of the prophet Zechariah’s murder in the Jerusalem Temple is mentioned in non-Jewish legends that were written from the first through the thirteenth century. Kalmin in chapter six explores traditions regarding the Pharisees. He shows that legends about the Pharisees in the Babylonian Talmud have parallels with legends in Josephus and in the New Testament.

In the seventh chapter, Kalmin focuses on the theme of astrology, using bShab 156a–b as a starting point, and compares it with passages in the Yerushalmi, in Genesis Rabbah, and in Tannaitic midrashim, and then moves on to non-Jewish sources. He traces the rabbinic idea that Jews, unlike Gentiles, are not governed by astrological forces. Kalmin notes that some Roman sources use the term mazla (which can be translated as a constellation or heavenly body) in the same way that fourth-century rabbis do.

Kalmin in his final chapter notes similarities between Talmudic accounts about Alexander the Great and the Alexander Romance, a collection of legends about the adventures of Alexander the Great. Kalmin suggests that the Alexander stories in the Talmud critique the human desire to strive for as much as possible, for humans will never truly be satiated.

The eight legends studied by Kalmin do not emerge from the same nonJewish traditions. The legend of Isaiah’s death, for example, is preserved in Christian, Muslim, and Persian sources. Traditions about the Pharisees found in the Babylonian Talmud have parallels in the Jerusalem Talmud, the writings of Josephus, and the New Testament. The diverse traditions that Kalmin studies, therefore, cannot necessarily be taken together to make general conclusions about the non- rabbinic sources that he is using. While Kalmin does not offer precise dates for the Talmudic material he studies, he isolates original (and sometimes competing) sources by locating shifts between Aramaic and Hebrew.

This distinction is especially important to his work on the Bartholomew tradition in chapter two and on the Alexander Romance in chapter eight. According to Kalmin, a switch in language may indicate the presence of both earlier and later sources, perhaps prompted by a later rabbi’s dissatisfaction with an earlier source. Kalmin relies on the parallels between Talmudic statements that are attributed to fourth-century rabbis and statements appearing in contemporaneous nonrabbinic sources. These connections indicate an increase in cultural sharing among rabbis and non-Jews in the Roman east.

Most of the book’s eight chapters compellingly make this point, but some chapters give rise to further questions. For example, in chapter six Kalmin compares passages in the Talmud about the Pharisees with passages in the New Testament. However, the New Testament authors were likely in closer cultural contact with the rabbinic community than authors of Roman and Persian sources. It is therefore harder to make the case that there was conscious borrowing in this instance; perhaps these legends were simply “in the air.”

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Kalmin’s work also raises important questions regarding parallels between non-rabbinic legends in the Greek, Latin, Syriac, Persian, and Arabic texts and legends that also appear in the Babylonian Talmud. Do these variations evince distinctive qualities that are specific to the communities behind the texts? Such patterns, if they exist, could shed light on what kinds of changes these communities made to earlier legends.

These questions aside, Kalmin’s excellent book will serve as a rich resource for students of rabbinic literature who seek to understand how legends were borrowed and retold among rabbis and non-Jews in the Roman east. This book will also serve as a methodological guide for scholars interested in studying cultural sharing among a wide range of traditions.

Stefan Reif writes:15

If his interpretations are indeed valid (and they range from plausible to likely), they indicate that the Babylonian rabbis were not only generally influenced by their fellow teachers in the Holy Land but also, on occasion, by a welter of religious ideas, folklore, and magic from Syria, Mesopotamia, and western Persia.

They were not averse to adopting tales from Christian narrators but always reserved the right to Judaize and talmudize these, as the need arose. Kalmin himself (pp. 162–3) sees ‘the parallels between Jewish, Christian and Muslim versions’ as ‘evidence of the porous boundaries between these groups in late Antiquity and into the Middle Ages’.

He expresses the hope (p. 205) that his work ‘will motivate scholars in related fields (for example, Mesopotamian Christian literature), to undertake comparable studies’. All credit to him for judiciously and encouragingly pointing in scholarly directions that have previously been little explored.

15 Reviews, 2015. Published by Oxford University Press.

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