Carnal Isræl: Reading Sex in Talmudic Culture (149 page)

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Authors: Daniel Boyarin

Tags: #Religion, #Judaism, #General

BOOK: Carnal Isræl: Reading Sex in Talmudic Culture
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There is no faction within rabbinic Judaism with which to attach oneself, because the opposing views are all incorporated into the same canonical texts. Declaring oneself, then, an adherent of either Rabbi Meir or Rabbi Akiva would involve precisely the denial of some part of the canonical text. Indeed, given the notorious difficulties of relying on the attributions of utterances to named authorities in the Talmud and midrash, we cannot even describe what it would be to be an Akivan or a Meirite, and this, itself, can be understood as a cultural practice. Ideologies are always, then, in dialogue with their others within the culture.
To take a salient example from a case which has already been mentioned above: the fundamental question about whether the first Adam was androgynous or male, with its attendant corollary of the ontological status of sex and woman, is debated within the talmudic and midrashic texts and not resolved. To be sure, the majority opinion seems to have been that when the Torah says, "male and female created He them," it means that God created an androgyne, but there is simply no mechanism within the texts for finally suppressing or dismissing the other view. Both views come from the same source and have the same authority, in a way that the same controversy debated, for hypothetical example, between Origen and Augustine would not. This latter practice bids us to try to decide which view is correct, while the rabbinic textual practice labels as almost heretical any attempt to so decide.
There is a fundamental semiotic difference between two interpretations that are presented in two separate works by named authors and the canonized dissensus of midrash and Talmud (Boyarin 1990c, 7879). Any view or interpretation that is undercut by another in the same canonical work unsettles, almost by definition, its own use as a foundation for cultural and social practice. Accordingly, in the research on this culture it is vital always to pay very close attention to the structures built into the very texts, to the interplay of view and counter-view. I think that it is this last point that is most often ignored when history is written by non-talmudists using talmudic texts. Thus, a view will often enough be quoted as if typical of rabbinic Judaism when in fact it has been cited in the talmudic text only to be discredited or at any rate undermined by a counter-text. An example of this can be found in Chapter 4 below, where a text that has often been cited as evidence for a rabbinically repressive attitude toward sexual practice is interpreted as in fact cited in the Talmud
 
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only in order to reject it.
37
Note that the point is not that there was more or less dissent and controversy within the rabbinic culture than in the cultures of other forms of Judaism or Christianity but that in this culture, as in none of the others, it is precisely dissent that was canonized. The cultural model is one in which "these and these are the words of the Living God," in which even God is not allowed to decide whose interpretation is correct (Boyarin 1990c, 3437). This particular structure must be taken very seriously in any attempt to describe rabbinic culture or any sub-system of it. We must be able to recognize not only that there were different views at any given time but also that the very fact of the existence of contradictory views all being asserted at the authoritative level would have had fundamental effects on the nature of social practice and ideology within the formation.
The argument of this book is, then, that while in most matters of detail precisely what marks the rabbinic culture is its heterogeneity, this very heterogeneity is founded on an underlying unity, the interpretation of human being as fundamentally, essentially corporeal. This idea, which itself grows out of its own material causes, becomes the spring that drives multifarious aspects of socio-cultural practice within the formations of rabbinic Jews in Palestine and Babylonia from the second century until the Arab conquest, when rabbinic culture is entirely transformed by a new and massive contact with Greek philosophy in Arabic translation.
Given the inextricability of ontological and hermeneutic theory from the discourse of gender, one of the major tasks of this book is going to be the examination of the discourse of gender in a culture that by and large does
not
operate with the system of dualistic oppositions outlined above. The point is not, of course, to argue or suggest that rabbinic social practice was more "egalitarian" than that of Hellenistic Jewish or Christian society but rather to ask what difference the different cultural configuration of its gender asymmetry made. How does a culture that does not identify man with mind and woman with body, or man with culture and woman with nature (because it does not operate with those ontological categories), nevertheless maintain a hierarchy in which men are socially dominant over women? How is this hierarchical structure different in
37. To be sure, once cited it is put into cultural play as well, but certainly in a much more nuanced and complex fashion than most accounts would have us believe.
 
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