Ant-icipation: From Tefillin to Tax Seals

Bechoros – Daf 30

Our Gemara on amud beis discusses an incident involving a woman whose religious practices were influenced by her husband at the time, whether he was a sage or a commoner: “There was an incident involving a certain woman who married a chaver and would tie [koma’at] for him phylacteries on his hand, and she later married a tax collector and would tie for him tax seals on his hand.”

Though some may see this text as condescending or critical of women, I think it is describing an important quality: the ability to make peace with, and even appreciate, the qualities of a husband, in spite of his not appearing objectively to be a “good catch.” Indeed, according to Abaye (Kesuvos 39a), women say: “One whose husband is small as an ant nevertheless places her seat among the noblewomen.”

Ben Yehoyada (Yevamos 118b) asks why the metaphor uses an ant when there are even smaller insects, such as a par’osh (flea). He says that the Gemara is alluding to the idea that this husband has more to him than meets the eye. Mishlei (6:6) praises the industry and middos of the ant. Thus, though this man appears to be short in stature, literally or figuratively, she knows that he has other good qualities and appreciates him for them. For example, he may not be a sage, but he might be a hard worker and have integrity.

Ben Yehoyada adds a story from Bereishis Rabbah (20:7) about a clever woman who was married to a bandit. The rabbis paid a house call, apparently to make some sort of intervention. When they visited her, she brought out a golden lamp with an earthen oil cup on top, as if to say: Though he is a rough fellow (the earthenware cup), he also has superior features (the golden lamp), possibly hinting at their children or other good qualities that emerged in the relationship.

In Talmudic society, tax collection was not merely a despised profession for obvious reasons, but tax collectors were often believed to be thieves as well, as they sometimes appropriated more than their due (Shevuos 39a). So, this woman went from being married to one of the most revered members of society to being married to one of the most loathsome. She went from assisting her husband with tefillin, a venerated object, to assisting her next husband with his profane tax instruments. Still, at least this particular tax collector might have had integrity and been a good man, and she remained loyal and supported him.

As a final note to consider, this kind of loyalty – making peace with who your spouse is and finding and supporting their good qualities – does not have to be limited to women. A man should see his wife that way as well. I think the Gemara did not emphasize that point because of the culture of the time. Women were not expected to be particularly learned, pious, or professionally productive. Their role was to be mothers and to maintain the home, and the men did not necessarily have much to critique one way or the other, because they may have felt it simply was not their business. In our times, women are more active professionally and socially, and it certainly behooves a man to relate in a similar manner if he has professional or academic expectations of his wife.

Grave Matters: When the Lips Keep Moving

Daf 31

Our Gemara on amud beis discusses the importance of quoting a teaching in the name of the sage who stated it: “Rabbi Yochanan said in the name of Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai: With regard to any Torah scholar in whose name a matter of halacha is stated in this world, his lips move with the words in the grave, as though he were speaking.”

The simple reading of the Gemara implies that it is necessary to state the rabbi’s name in order to create the spiritual energy that channels and arouses the departed rabbi’s spirit so that “his lips will move,” as if he were saying the Torah.

However, the Chida (Chomas Anakh, Tehillim 40) discusses whether a person who writes a sefer anonymously benefits from this effect or not, since his name is not mentioned, even though people are still studying his Torah. The Chida asserts that even an anonymous sefer achieves the same effect for the author, as Hashem knows who taught this Torah, even if others do not. Why, then, is there an obligation to quote a teaching’s source? The Chida says this is for the practical reason that if the source is known, it will be more respected, and therefore mentioning it encourages more people to study it.

How did the Chida understand our Gemara? It must be as follows: When a deceased person’s Torah is contemplated (regardless of whether it is done in his name or not), this arouses his spirit, and it is as if he is saying it himself. However, in order to achieve that serious level of contemplation, we want what is being taught to be valued. Therefore, saying it in the person’s name, especially if the person is a great sage, increases the chances that it will be reviewed and internalized. That is what is necessary to arouse the deceased person’s soul. It is not enough for his Torah to be casually mentioned – those hearing it must study it and be actively engaged in it.

That idea itself – that the deceased person’s spirit is aroused by engaging with his Torah – can be understood on a simple level: A person’s greatest immortality lies is his ideas. If we are discussing the deceased person’s ideas, then it is as if he is still alive, because they continue to have an effect in this world.

However, there is a deeper way to understand this as well. The conception of the soul holds that intellectual activity itself constitutes the human soul. That is, the spark of autonomous, self-aware intellectual activity represents a unique spiritual existence and manifestation. Presumably, a robot can behave in programmed ways without actually knowing or being aware of itself. This sense of self – that we are who we are – is subjective, and impossible to explain scientifically. Everyone can feel and know themselves. This is the seat of intellect and the soul that the ancients were aware of. This was not a matter of faith but rather of common sense and experience which made it obvious that the soul existed. What else could explain what was going on in everyone’s hearts and minds? “Science” has decided that what cannot be seen or proven objectively is not true, even though subjective experience is clear and there is a sense of self that transcends wiring and neurons. We are who we are and we know it.

Therefore, when one’s Torah is being stated, it is as if he lives through those words. (For more about this, see Torah Temimah, Shir HaShirim 7:10.)