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) 

INTRODUCTION

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.

COMMENTARY

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.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

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?