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Friday, October 25, 2019

#146: Spit in My Eye! — Rabbi Amy Scheinerman

R. Meir regularly preached in the synagogue of Hammata every Sabbath eve, and there was a woman there who regularly came to listen. Once he spoke for a long time, and the woman went home to find that the lamps burned out. Her husband said to her, “Where have you been?” She said to him, “I was listening to the lesson.” He said to her, “I swear that this woman (i.e., you) shall not enter this house until she (i.e., you) spits in the face of the teacher.” R. Meir perceived [what happened] through the Holy Spirit, and pretended to have an eye ailment. He said, “Any woman who knows how to whisper an incantation over an eye, let her come and do so.” The woman’s neighbors said to her, “Here is an opportunity for you to return home. Pretend to whisper an incantation and spit in his eye.” She went to R. Meir. He said to her, “Do you know how to whisper an incantation for an eye ailment?” Out of reverence for him, she said, “No.” He said, “If one spits in it seven times, it is good for it.” After she spat he said, “Go and say to your husband, ‘You told me to spit once but this woman (i.e., I) spat seven times.’” His students said to him, “Should one disgrace the Torah in this way? Had you told us, we would have brought [her husband] here, lashed him to a bench, and forced him to make up with his wife.” He said to them, “Should Meir’s honor be greater than the honor of his Creator? For if Scripture says that the Holy Name, which is written in holiness, should be erased in the waters [the ritual of the sotah, Numbers 5:11–31] in order to restore peace between a husband and his wife, how much more Meir’s honor?”
(Jerusalem Talmud, Sotah 1:4, 16d) 

In TMT #145, we met a discordant couple. The husband came dangerously close to uttering a vow against his wife that would have carried legal weight, which may explain why the story is found in tractate Nedarim (Vows). The husband rashly and uncivilly demanded that his wife publicly harm a sage and, in doing so, embarrass herself. The sage, recognizing the situation, resolved the situation in defense of the woman. 

Here, a jealous husband does not hold back: he utters a legally binding dreadful vow. This story, however, is in tractate Sotah (Suspected Adulteress), which concerns the ritual Torah prescribes when a husband is wrought with jealousy because he suspects his wife has committed adultery, but there is neither evidence nor witnesses to confirm his suspicion. The public ritual, as Numbers 5:11-31 describes in detail, is held in the Tabernacle  (later, the Temple) and presided over by the priests. It seems clear that the Bible’s presumption is that the ritual will exonerate the woman, but in publicly embarrassing her, it will assuage the husband’s overwrought jealousy and restore some semblance of peace between husband and wife.

A woman who regularly attends R. Meir’s lessons returns home late one Shabbat evening because his address ran particularly long, so long that the shabbat lamps she lit before sundown have burned down entirely. Her husband, who did not attend the lesson, is angry and jealous. Given that the story is in tractate Sotah, it is reasonable to think he suspects her interest in R. Meir extends beyond Torah learning. Minimally, he is jealous of how much time she devotes to listening to R. Meir rather than attending to him. The husband utters a drastic vow: she is banned from his house until she spits in the face of R. Meir—an unthinkable act that would dishonor the great sage. Jealousy, which launches the sotah ritual, sparks the events here.

Aware of the woman’s predicament, R. Meir devises a clever plan to ameliorate the situation. He contrives a way for the woman to carry out the literal requirement of the husband’s vow without causing harm or insult to himself. As in the TMT #145 story, a sage finds a path for fulfilling the “letter of the law” while avoiding the objectionable “spirit of the law.” R. Meir claims to be afflicted with an eye ailment that can be cured by someone whispering an incantation over it. Although the wife does not immediately recognize the opportunity being offering her to fulfill the demand conditioned by the husband’s vow,  her savvy friend does and convinces her to seize it.  Yet when the wife approaches R. Meir and he makes a show of asking her if she knows the proper incantation for his eye, she feels compelled to answer honestly out of regard for the sage and her sense honesty. Without missing a beat, R. Meir asks her to spit in his eye seven times. She can hardly say no to the great sage’s direct request. R. Meir then tells her that she has more than fulfilled the husband’s requirement and can now return home. Everyone’s needs have been met and R. Meir has transformed the insulting act demanded by the husband into a “healing” act.

R. Meir’s stodgy students object that, in inviting a woman to spit in his eye (quite different from uttering an incantation), he demeaned himself and thereby the Torah he represents. He points out that God did no less in prescribing that the Holy Name to be washed off the scroll on which the curse of the sotah, which contained God’s Name, was written (Numbers 5:23). God permitted dishonoring the Name for the sake of shalom bayit, to restore peace between husband with wife.

  1. Many people understand the ritual of the Sotah as a “trial by ordeal” reflecting God’s judgment of guilt or innocence. R. Meir understands it differently. Which understanding do you think is correct and why?
  2. R. Meir draws a parallel between himself and God: as God willingly sustains dishonor to restore peace between a husband and wife, so, too, R. Meir willingly sustains dishonor in pursuit of the same end. Is comparing himself to God blasphemous? Is there another way to understand the parallel he draws?
  3. The wife is unwilling to lie, but R. Meir justifies his deception in order to restore marital peace as a higher good. When do the ends justify the means? Have you ever made the determination that you must commit a “wrong” in order to effect a greater good?

Monday, October 21, 2019

Ten Minutes of Talmud #145: A Contentious Marriage — Rabbi Amy Scheinerman

A man from Babylonia went up to Eretz Yisrael (the Land of Israel) and married a woman [from there]. He said to her, “Cook תרי טלפי [lit. two lentils] for me.” She cooked two lentils for him. He became angry with her. The next day, he said to her, “Cook a גריוא [geriva, a very large quantity] for me.” She cooked a גריוא (geriva) for him. He said to her, “Go, bring me two בוציני (butzinei).” She went and brought him two lamps. He said to her, “Go break them on the head of the בבא (bava, gate).” Bava b. Buta was sitting as a judge at the [city] gate. She went and broke them on [or: over] his head. He said to her, “Why did you do this?” She said to him, “Thus my husband commanded me.” He said, “You have fulfilled your husband’s desire. May the Omnipresent bring forth from you two sons like Bava b. Buta.”
(BT Nedarim 66b) 

Our focus here will be three salient themes in a multi-faceted story about a husband and wife dangerously out of synch with one another. Its location in tractate Nedarim (“Vows”) likely gives rise to the first theme. Torah’s prohibition of “swearing falsely in the name of God” (Ex. 20:7, Lv. 19:12, Dt. 5:11) inspired considerable discussion in the Talmud of dozens of situations in which people bind themselves by uttering ill-considered vows and oaths. One such  situation is the sadly all-too-common phenomenon of an angry spouse uttering a rash, threatening vow (e.g., “I swear I’ll never speak to you again!”) that is legally binding—as the husband here comes dangerously close to doing. A second theme is the dangerous dynamic of a contentious marriage lacking good will and constructive communication and marked by escalating animosity and retribution. A third theme arises from a question lurking beneath the first two: What is the proper behavior of the two parties embroiled in a contentious marital relationship? What can outsiders do if they are drawn into the fray when a couples’ treatment of one another sparks pain and insult, which in turn ignites flames of resentment and anger, which in turn begets sizzling revenge? How might this uncontrolled conflagration be avoided? Is there a way to lower the temperature? What salve might be applied to the wounds? The next edition of TMT (#146) will present a companion tale.

This is a deeply troubled marriage, no “match made in heaven.” The husband is from Babylonia; the wife is from Eretz Yisrael. They come from two Jewish communities separated by a vast geographical distance and hence aspects of culture, religious practice, custom, and linguistic  dialect—this last plays a lead role in the drama. The marriage was not the woman’s choice. Her father would have arranged it, as was universally the custom. While the man, a foreigner whose parents remained in Babylonia, may have made the match for himself, it is unlikely the couple knew one another before they married. The animosity between them hangs thick in the air. The story turns on way the wife responds to four demands the husband makes of her. She employs literalism and seeming intensional misinterpretation that wreak of passive aggressive retaliation.

The husband demands (not requests) his wife prepare “two lentils” for his dinner. While it is clear that he means “a small portion,” she interprets his words literally and cooks precisely two lentils. Unsurprisingly, he is angry. The following day, he demands (not requests) that she prepare a geriva of lentils. Geriva is far more than one person could possibly consume. Again, she fulfills his demand to the letter, rather than the spirit. He next demands two botzinei. In Babylonia Aramaic botzinei are pumpkins, but in the Aramaic of the Eretz Yisrael the term can connote clay lamps such as one lights for shabbat. Finally, enraged, the husband demands that the wife smash the lamps “on the head of the [city] gates.” We can imagine him stopping just short of uttering the vow, “or I will have nothing further to do with you!” or “or don’t come back!” His demand seems designed to publicly humiliate her. She proceeds to the city gates where the sage and judge Bava (lit. “gate”) b. Buta is presiding. Certainly she cannot smash the lamps into his head, but she smashes them over his head; the word her husband used meaning “on” can also mean “over.” Yet again she has found a way to meticulously follow his instructions while subverting his intentions. Bava b. Buta—unlike her husband—asks her why she has done this. Her “honest” response does not portray him in a positive light, yet upon hearing that her husband commanded this, the sage (publicly) praises her.

The wife’s intentional misinterpretations through literalism and pun inspire an observation in kind: she revolts against her revolting husband by undermining his overbearing exercise of authority over her. Each act amps up his anger. The lamps hold symbolical significance. They evoke the two shabbat lamps lit to welcome shabbat, a time (we hope) when shalom beit (“peace at home”) prevails. The shattered lamps reflect the state of the couple’s marriage. Recognizing this, Bava b. Buta chooses his words carefully and deploys them to transform her violent act into a good deed, her public humiliation into public praise. He blesses her with two sons—replacements for the lamps?—who will be like him and bring her joy.

  1. Given that the couple is nameless and generic, the Rabbis meant the story to serve as a warning tale.  What do you think their message is? Can you imagine a completely different interpretation of the story from the one suggested here?
  2. The story, through the person of Bava b Buta, conveys a powerful message about at least three characteristics of a good marital relationship: dan l’khaf zechut (judge people for good, as the sages does the wife), open communication, and kindness. Had the husband and wife demonstrated these qualities, how would things have been different?
  3. What else might the lamps symbolize? What message might they encode?

Thursday, October 17, 2019

Ten Minutes of Talmud #144: Everyone Hates Taxes — Rabbi Amy Scheinerman

Rav Nachman bar Rav Chisda imposed a head tax on the Rabbis. Rav Nachman bar Yitzhak said to him, “You have violated the Torah, the Prophets, and the Writings.” 
 Torah: As it is written, Lover, indeed, of the people, their holy ones are all in Your hand (Deuteronomy 33:3). Moses said to the Holy Blessed One, ‘Master of the universe, when You cherish the peoples, all the holy ones will be in Your hand.’” [The verse continues] They followed in Your steps. Rav Yosef taught: These are the disciples of the scholars [i.e., Torah scholars] who pound their feet from city to city and from country to country to study Torah: Accepting Your pronouncements — [means] debating the words of the Omnipresent. 
Prophets: As it is written, And while they are courting among the nations, there I will hold them fast; and they shall begin to diminish in number from the burden of king [and] officers (Hosea 8:10). Ulla said, “This verse includes Aramaic, [hence it means:] If everyone studies, I [God] will gather them now, and if few [study, the Torah scholars who do] will be released from the burdens [i.e., taxation] of kings and officers. 
Writings: As it is written, It is not permissible to impose tribute, poll tax, or land tax (Ezra 7:24). Rav Yehudah said: “tribute” is the king’s portion; “poll tax” is the head tax; “land tax” is the arnona (a tax on crops and cattle paid in kind).
(BT Baba Batra 8a) 

Paying taxes is anathema to most everyone and hence most everyone loves to hate the IRS, but objection to taxation is hardly a modern phenomenon. The Roman authorities would have justified their levying taxes by citing the need to pay and outfit armies, build and maintain public works (e.g., roads, aqueducts, arenas), and fund public administration. Many ordinary citizens, however, viewed tax collectors as greedy spawn, the minions of corrupt rulers because Roman officials responsible for collecting taxes often sold the collection right to unscrupulous individuals who employed force and extortion and were subject to few restrictions on seizing money and property. They routinely kept a sizable sum for themselves before transmitting funds to Rome. Unsurprisingly, people went to great lengths to evade paying taxes.

The discussion in Baba Batra comes amidst a larger discussion of taxations to improve and maintain a town’s infrastructure. While the Rabbis heavily approved their decision to levy taxes to assist poor people, Mishnah categorizes assets seized by tax collectors as stolen property and therefore permits one to make a false vow to evade Roman tax collectors. In the third century, R. Shmuel declared that the legal principle dina d’malchuta dina, which declares that the law of the non-Jewish governing authorities is binding on Jews, applies to paying taxes assessed by legitimate civil governments. This includes the IRS.

The first chapter of Mishnah Baba Batra discusses taxes the Rabbis imposed on the Jewish community to pay for civic projects, ranging from a gatehouse at the entrance to a courtyard shared by multiple homeowners, to a city wall with a locking gate and guards to protect the entire community. The Mishnah deems it appropriate for everyone to contribute to a project that will benefit many. Naturally, there are always individual exemptions, such as new or temporary residents, or poor people. Under consideration here is the poll tax (known also as a “head tax”), levied on every citizen, regardless of their ability to pay. Rav Nachman bar Yitzhak objects to Rav Nachman bar Rav Chisda’s imposition of the head tax on rabbis, claiming they are exempted from paying it by no less than the Torah, Prophets, and Writings—that is, the entire Tana”kh.

How so? Rav Nachman bar Yitzhak draws support from Torah by interpreting Deuteronomy 33:3 to say that even when God permits foreign nations to dominate Israel and hence levy taxes, nonetheless the “holy ones,” meaning Torah scholars, are “in God’s hands.” Only God can impose the poll tax on them. Perhaps Rav Yosef’s addendum is meant to suggest that rabbis “pay their fair share” to the community through services they provide “pounding the pavement” to interpret Torah in order to discern God’s will, teach the people, and serve as community judges.

Building on the theme of rabbinic service and leadership to the broader Jewish community, support is drawn from the Prophets (Hosea 8:10) by Ulla’s reading of the Aramaic word yitnu as “learn.” If everyone becomes a Torah scholar, God will gather Israel (perhaps implying the messianic in-gathering). Until then, only the small slice of the community—Torah scholars engaged in an essential role needed by the entire community—are exempt from the poll tax.

Finally, proof from Writings: In expectation of the in-gathering inspired by the rebuilding of the first Temple, which had been destroyed by the Babylonians in the sixth century BCE, the fifth century BCE scribe Ezra exempted priests and Levites from paying taxes. The tribe of Levi had not been given a land grant in Eretz Yisrael; hence priests and Levites did not possess land by which to earn income. Instead, they retained a small portion of some of the sacrifices they offered  not the altar in the Temple on behalf of the entire nation.

  1. The argument concerning who should pay taxes and who is exempt has raged since taxes were first imposed. How does the argument manifest itself today? How is Rav Nachman bar Yitzhak’s claim similar to, and different from, arguments made today?
  2. What are the pros and cons to exempting communal leaders (e.g., priests and scholars), or any other protected class, from a head tax? Are there parallels today? If you think there are, do you find the pros or the cons more convincing?
  3. The story addresses the propriety of leaders whose legislation serves their own interests. Are there parallels today? Can leaders do this objectively and avoid the optics of self-dealing?

Monday, October 7, 2019

The Power of Reframing — BT Berakhot 10a — #143 / Rabbi Amy Scheinerman

There were hooligans in R. Meir’s neighborhood who vexed him exceedingly. R Meir prayed for mercy for them—that they should die. Beruriah, R. Meir’s wife, said to him, “How can you think this way, inasmuch as it is written, Let חטאים (sins) cease from the land (Psalm 104:35). Is it written ‘Let חוטאים (sinners) cease from the land’? Rather, it is written [i.e., should be read], ‘חטאים (sins).’ Moreover, go to the end of the verse: And the wicked will be no more [meaning]. [If] transgressions cease, there will no longer be wicked people. Rather, pray for mercy on them that they should repent.” [R. Meir] prayed for mercy for them and they repented.
A certain heretic said to Beruriah, “It is written, Sing, barren woman who has not given birth (Isaiah 54:1).” “She should sing because she has not given birth?! Fool! Go to the end of the verse, where it is written, For the children of the desolate shall be more numerous than the children of the married woman, says Adonai. Rather, what is the meaning of, Sing, barren woman who has not given birth? It means: Sing, Congregation of Israel, which is like a barren woman who did not give birth to children like you who are [destined] for Gehenna.”
Beruriah is a fascinating figure. She is the daughter of sage, married to the prominent sage R. Meir, and a scholar in her own right: Beruriah is said to be capable of learning every day 300 laws from 300 scholars (BT Pesachim 62b). In her interactions with her husband, his students, their neighbors, and heretics, she variously shows herself to be intellectually brilliant, compassionate, patient, sarcastic, and quick witted. We see this range of attributes in the two stories above.

On the previous daf (9b), R. Yehudah b. R Shimon b Pazi says that King David would utter a full-throated “Hallelujah” only when he witnessed the downfall of the wicked. In support, he cites Psalm 104:35, a verse that Beruriah also references: Let sinners cease from the earth, and let the wicked be no more… Beruriah, however uses the verse to transform revenge into something understanding that leads to reconciliation.

The first story exhibits both Beruriah’s intellectual acumen, as well as her emotional intelligence. Her husband, R. Meir, is harassed by neighborhood hooligans. We don’t know if these are local punks and petty thieves or (as some have suggested) heretics who challenge his most deeply cherished beliefs. Whoever they are, their behavior so disturbs R. Meir that he prays for their demise. Beruriah’s response to his anger and pain is both clever and compassionate. She affirms his emotional experience, but appeals to his religious values and identity as a sage as the proper response. She further provides a compelling and reframing scriptural argument to steer R. Meir toward a more appropriate ethical response. Beruriah’s argument hinges on an original reading of the first half of Psalm 104:35, commonly translated, May sinners disappear from the earth and the wicked be no more. The word חטאים was written without vowels at this period in history, allowing Beruriah to legitimately parse it as “sins.” She tells her husband that the proper way to read the verse is: May sins disappear from the earth, and [then] the wicked be no more, teaching us that the proper goal is to seek the demise of sins (not sinners) so that there will no longer be wicked people. Therefore, R. Meir should pray for “sins” to disappear, not for “sinners” to die. R. Meir accepts the moral force of her reframing interpretation of Psalm 104:35; he instead prays (a second time) for mercy for the hooligans. Perhaps seeing R. Meir’s dramatically altered approach to them inspired their repentance and, as a result, they stopped sinning. Curiously, the phrase “R. Meir prayed for mercy for them” appears twice. It appears that the first iteration is might be sarcastic. Mercy is the opposite of what R. Meir initially wished for.  Alternatively, the first iteration of “mercy” might be euphemistic, a reflection of how deeply distasteful the Rabbis found R. Meir’s prayer. The second iteration of “prayed for mercy for them” is, in dramatic contrast, genuine. Unlike the first instance, the second is happily effective.

The second story presents another side of Beruriah. Here we taste her sharp tongue and quick wit. The heretic quotes the first half of a verse from the prophet Isaiah that says the Jewish people’s suffering at the hands of Babylonia following the destruction of the First Temple (586 B.C.E.) is metaphorically like the situation of a woman unable to have children. Yet, shockingly she should sing for joy. In her laser-guided retort, Beruriah points out that the remainder of the verse (that the heretic did not quote) upends his argument by assuring Israel that God, the “husband” who seems to have “divorced” his “wife” Israel will, in time, reverse Israel’s present situation. This likely reflects the historical expectation of liberation and restoration that the Persian Empire afforded Israel after it conquered the Babylonian Empire (539 B.C.E.). Once again, Beruriah’s clever interpretation proves its power to reframe, here transforming the heretic’s ridicule and condemnation into God’s hopeful promise to Israel. 

  1. Beruriah imaginatively interprets two verses that are key to resolving two difficult situations. Do you find her technique helpful? Have you encountered interpretations of people’s words or deeds that reframed a painful or contentious situation, helping to foster reconciliation? 
  2. Beruriah refocuses R. Meir’s animosity toward the hooligans themselves to a larger concern about the effect of sins in the world. How might you use refocusing constructively in your life? We often experience the words and behavior of others as insults and slights. Consider an example from your own life and how you might reframe it as Beruriah teaches us to do.
  3. How do you imagine R. Meir’s behavior and communication with the hooligans changed as a result of Beruriah’s teaching? Can you imagine a conversation between them before and after Beruriah’s reframing? Have you ever noted a time when your change in attitude toward someone resulted in a change in their behavior?

Wednesday, October 2, 2019

R. Yehoshua, the Riddler — BT Eruvin 53b — #142

R. Yehoshua b. Chananiah said, “In all my days, no person defeated me [verbally] except for a woman, a young boy, and a young girl.” What is [the incident concerning] a woman? “Once I was staying at an inn. [The innkeeper] prepared beans for me. The first day I ate them and left nothing over. The second [day] I left nothing over. The third day she over-salted them. As soon as I tasted, I withdrew my hands from them. She said to me, ‘Rabbi, why aren’t you eating?’ I said to her, ‘I already ate today.’ She said to me, ‘You should have withdrawn your hand from bread.’ She said to me, ‘Rabbi, perhaps you did not leave a remainder on the first [days]. Is this not what the Sages said: One need not leave a remainder in the pot, but one must leave a remainder on the plate.’” 
 What is [the incident concerning] a young girl? “One time I was walking along the way. The path crossed through a field, and I was walking on it. A young girl said to me, ‘Rabbi, isn’t this a [privately-owned] field?’ I said to her, ‘Isn’t it a well-trodden path?’ She said to me, ‘Robbers like you have trodden it.’” 
What is [the incident concerning] a young boy? “One time I was walking along the way, and I saw a young boy sitting at the crossroads. I said to him, ‘Which road should I take to the city?’ He said to me, ‘This [route] is short and long, and that [route] is long and short.’ I walked on the [route that was] short and long. As I approached the city I found that gardens and orchards surrounded it. I went back and said to [the boy], ‘My son, didn’t you tell me [this route is] short?’ ‘He said to me, ‘And didn’t I tell you [it is also] long?’ I kissed him on his head and said to him, ‘Happy are you, O Israel, for you are all exceedingly wise, from your old to your young.’”

R. Yehoshua b. Chananiah was a beloved sage and important leader among the rabbis who shaped post-Temple Judaism and created the oral tradition in the aftermath of the destruction of the Second Temple. Tradition holds that R. Yehoshua was a diplomat between Israel and the Roman Empire

Verbal sparring was a central feature of the highly intellectually competitive Talmudic academies of Eretz Yisrael—and even more so, the academies of Babylonia. R. Yehoshua’s three riddles are presented as narrative stories of his personal experience. The solutions involve a combination of irony, misconception, and misinterpretation, with intellectual sparring at the root of each. R. Yehoshua tells us that these were the only occasions on which he was bested, but the winners—a peasant innkeeper and two children, types more than identifiable individuals—suggest that something more is intended than three entertaining riddles. And, indeed, the riddles are open to a wide variety of interpretations—including yours, so find a friend and try your hand at it! 

On his third day at her inn, through a clever ruse the innkeeper traps R. Yehoshua into effectively admitting to impolite behavior  during the first two days of his stay. He should have left uneaten a small amount of the beans uneaten on his plate. On the third day, she serves over-salted, inedible beans. R. Yehoshua recoils, claiming that he has little appetite because he ate so much the previous two days. Countering that he nonetheless ate bread that day, the innkeeper cleverly undercuts his untrue claim.
Is the innkeeper more concerned with R. Yehoshua's
impolite behavior, or his lying to her?
    When R. Yehoshua takes a shortcut across a field, a young girl calls him out for trespassing on private land. He defends his action by pointing out that the path is well-trodden, implying that his action is morally acceptable because many others have used the same shortcut. The girl demolishes his justification by asserting that the path was cut by thieves. How, then, can R. Yehoshua be distinguished from them?

    Arriving at a crossroad, R. Yehoshua finds a young boy sitting there. He inquires which of two available routes to the city is best. The boy responds enigmatically, terming one route “short and long” and the other “long and short.” R. Yehoshua does not know how to interpret the mysterious options and chooses the wrong path: sometimes the seemingly longer path has fewer unseen impediments and the overall trip is therefore quicker. Consider this connection between the second and third stories: having learned (or been reminded) by the girl that trespassing is tantamount to theft, encountering the gardens and and fields he cannot cross without committing a violation becomes “long” although it initially seemed “short.” Sometimes the moral path is longer, but a far shorter path to integrity.

    1. These three riddles are among eleven recounted in Eichah (Lamentations) Rabbah, midrashim on the destruction of the Temple. How might these riddles mirror the life-upending, massive trauma the destruction wrought on the Jewish people’s understanding of their world?
    2. In many jurisdictions in America, trespass is a criminal offense dependent on intent: One who knowingly and without permission enters another’s property without permission (or remains after learning they don’t have permission) commits a crime. However, accidentally wandering  onto another’s property without intent to trespass is generally not considered criminal trespass. What clues are there for which category R. Yehoshua falls into? Why doesn’t R. Yehoshua argue with the girl’s interpretation of his act?
    3. “Short and long” and “long and short” can apply to many experiences and facets of life. How does the distinction apply to your experiences and how you have made decisions, both either beneficially and not?
    (c) Rabbi Amy Scheinerman