In the latest issue of Tradition (Vol. 48, No. 2-3, Summer-Fall 2015), Naomi Cohen, long-time Israeli university philosophy instructor and leader of a women’s Talmud study group, authored an article entitled, “Beruria in the Bavli and in RaShI Avoda Zora 18b.” The subject matter is infamous to those who are familiar with the Talmud, wherein RaShI describes a lurid moment in the lives of the storied couple, R. Meir and his wife Beruria:

Avoda Zora 18a-b

Beruria, the wife of R. Meir, was a daughter of R. Chanina b. Teradion. Said she (to her husband): “I am ashamed to have my sister placed in a brothel.” So he took a Tarkav-full  of Denarii and set out.  “If,” thought he, “she has not been subjected to anything wrong, a miracle will be wrought for her; but if she has committed anything wrong, no miracle will happen to her.” Disguised as a knight, he came to her and said, “Prepare thyself for me.” She replied: “The manner of women is upon me.” “I am prepared to wait,” he said. “But,” said she, “there are here many, many prettier than I am.” He said to himself: “That proves that she has not committed any wrong; she no doubt says thus to every comer.” He then went to her warder and said: “Hand her over to me.” He replied: “I am afraid of the government.” “Take the Tarkav of Dinars.” Said he: “One half distribute (as bribe), the other half shall be for thyself.” “And what shall I do when these are exhausted?” he asked. “Then,” he replied, “say, ‘O God of Meir, answer me!’ and thou wilt be saved.” “But,” said he, “who can assure me that that will be the case?” He replied, “You will see now.” There were there some dogs who bit anyone (who incited them). He took a stone and threw it at them, and when they were about to bite him he exclaimed, “O God of Meir, Answer me!” and they let him alone. The warder then handed her over to him. At the end the matter became known to the government, and (the warder) on being brought (for judgment) was taken up to the gallows, when he exclaimed, “O God of Meir Answer me.” They took him down and asked him what that meant, and he told them the incident that had happened. They then engraved R. Meir’s likeness on the gates of Rome and proclaimed that anyone seeing a person resembling it should bring him there. One day (some Romans) saw him and ran after him, so he ran away from them and entered a harlot’s house.  Others say he happened just then to see food cooked by heathens and he dipped in one finger and then sucked the other. Others again say that Eliyahu the Prophet appeared to them as a harlot who embraced him. “God forbid,” said they, “were this R. Meir, he would not have acted thus!” (and they left him). He then arose and ran away and came to Babylon. Some say it was because of that incident that he ran to Babylon; others say because of the incident about Beruria.

RaShI s.v. VeIka D’Amrei Mishum Ma’aseh D’Beruria

That one time she deprecated the saying of the sages (Kiddushin 80b) “The minds of women are ‘light’ upon them. And he said to her, “By your life, in the end you will agree with their words!” And he commanded one of his students to test her regarding a matter of sin (euphemism for sexual impropriety). He entreated her many days until she agreed. And when it became known to her, she choked herself, and R. Meir fled due to embarrassment.

RaShI’s account has given many pause since there is no reference in the Talmud itself to it; Tosafot who usually comments on challenging aspects of RaShI’s commentary is silent; and the entire incident of arranging for the temptation and eventually succumbing to it seems highly out of character and so Halachically objectionable for both someone like R. Meir and even any student of his.

Naomi Cohen cites a number of scholarly articles in the body of her work as well as in ample footnotes, and contributes her own insight, based upon an analysis of the language of the Talmud using the Bar Ilan database, an analysis that she legitimizes by Tosafot’s own challenges to various textual nuances in the Talmud, to suggest that not only is RaShI’s comment most likely a later emendation, but that even the line in the Talmud, to the effect that “others say because of the incident about Beruria” was also added at a later period.

I was intrigued by one of her final comments:

The first mention of the RaShI-Beruria tale is in the Menorat HaMeor of R. Yitzchak Abuhav and the MaHaRIL (both 14th century), and so we find ourselves not far chronologically from Bocaccio’s Decameron (c. 1350) and Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales (also 14th cent.), both of which are replete with bawdy stories. The story in RaShI fits the zeitgeist of the 14th century. (p. 39)

Cohen’s suggestion leads me to wonder the extent to which the “dominant zeitgeist,” as she puts it, for contemplating and appreciating ribald stories, would have inveigled itself upon a Talmudist prepared to write comments into his edition of the Talmud (she writes earlier [p. 30] that in her view, “the most reasonable possibility is that it found its way into the text of RaShI from a marginal comment that was mistakenly copied into it, and that the tantalizing tale spread rapidly and soon acquired legitimacy”). Were works like Decameron and Canterbury Tales in fact familiar to such an individual? And even if these books themselves were not, did the cultural values of the general society affect learned Jews who were most likely insular and restricted by significant Halachot from engaging in such thinking? While it is well-known that it is impossible to be totally unaware of what is transpiring in the world around one—e.g., many 14th century Jews were merchants who frequented fairs in order to sell their wares–would such relatively minimal exposure to non-Jewish and/or non-observant buyers and sellers have constituted the entry points for not only familiarity with at least the mercantile world, but reprehensible cultural trends as well?

On one level, Beruria as a female Jewishly-knowledgeable role model is obviously impugned by RaShI’s account, much to the chagrin of those wishing to advance women’s Tora learning and the overall role of women in observant Judaism. But on another, what do stories like this, when encountered during the course of one’s Talmud learning, do to a sense of overall Kedusha and Tahara that an individual aspires to and naturally finds it difficult to maintain? This reminds me of a personal experience while I was studying in Israel, at Yeshivat Kerem B’Yavneh more than 45 years ago. One of my roommates, who had spent three years in the Yeshiva, was returning to the US to resume his college studies and cleaning out his closet. Among the things that he had accumulated were materials that had been sent to him by his college friends during the wild ‘60’s, which let’s say were not terribly appropriate in any context, let alone that of a Yeshiva. I had been learning for several months, truly detached not only from university life (I attended Yeshiva after finishing my BA), but from the American cultural scene in general, remaining in the Yeshiva for literally weeks at a time. Just momentarily glancing at some of my roommate’s papers resulted in a shocking sense of reentering the world from which I had apparently psychically successfully distanced myself.

In the spirit of George Santayana’s famous statement, “’Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it”, Naomi Cohen’s side-comment in what essentially constitutes yet another defense of Beruria, should give those like me who are deeply devoted to seeking “the best that has been thought and said (Matthew Arnold, quoted by R. Lichtenstein on numerous occasions) in both Jewish and secular contexts, significant pause. Will we be able to filter out the discordant themes and inappropriate ideas from what we read, listen to and think to the point where we can retain a proper state of Kedusha and Avodat HaShem? Forewarned is forearmed.