Shalom, my dear colleagues in the study of Judaism!

I’m privileged in inviting you to join me in a close

reading of what amounts to about eighteen lines from the Talmud, Masechet Yoma, page 54a.
Masechet or Masechta is an Aramaic word. It’s conventionally come to be translated as “tractate,” but
this – as so much we encounter in translation – doesn’t really give us a proper sense of its resonance.
Translated
into Hebrew it would be Arigah – translated into English: “weave” or “textile.” This text – as all texts, only
even more consciously and prominently so – is composed of a weave, a textile, a texture of many texts –
many strands of thought, many differing sources and points of view; and these, often, brought together
around highly playful associative connections.

Now I can’t really go on just yet. I feel held back – because of the textures, associated texts and
contexts of the first word that has begun our connection with one another here via the medium of writing
as
produced and received on computer. That first word being shalom. I just can’t speak or write a word
without feeling responsible for it. Does it really reflect something true? And if so, how so? With all that
is happening in Israel/Palestine now, how can we say shalom?! Jeremiah and Ezekial tell us that this is
the picture of reality we are given by the false prophets who say “Shalom shalom v’eyn shalom.”
(Jeremiah
8:11) – “Peace/everything’s alright, peace… when/but there is no peace …”

So what does it mean to greet someone with shalom? Can we understand it as an accurate description
of reality, of our situation? Or perhaps it is a hope, an ideal? Certainly, we hope for – and this is not
really responsible unless we also work for – more justice and peace in the socio-economic-political life –
ours and that of our fellow human beings. But perhaps we also – when we greet one another with
shalom refer to some kind of inner personal peace-of-mind?

Well, there is a kind of peace-of-mind that involves our living with a certain quality of calm, of so-called
centeredness – in the midst, in the face of even dauntingly disturbing distractions, difficulties and crises –
large and small. Yet, on the other hand, perhaps there is a kind of restlessness that we might actually
want to welcome and encourage – as an element that can be precipitous for a life that is lived with an
ever growing depth of responsibility and creativity. At the end of Masechet Berachot (also at the end of
Masechet Mo’ed Katan) we encounter this teaching:

Rabbi Chiya barAshi said in the name of Rav: The disciples of the wise have no rest either in this world
or in the world to come, as it is said, “They go from strength to strength, each of them appears before
the Divine in Zion.” (Psalm 84:8)

And Rashi interprets: “[They go] from close study to close study and from interpretation to interpretation. ”

This strikes us at first as astounding! Doesn’t the religious, the spiritual life bring about peace of mind –
serenity? No, this teaching surprises us. But, then, ok – if not in this world, then certainly in “the world to
come” – without our exploring just now what this dimension of existence – “the world to come” – can be
understood to involve! Again, this teaching surprises – contradicts our expectation, challenges
conventional assumptions: No, “neither in this world nor in the world to come!” The world to come –
whatever form of existence this involves – certainly reflects something of our ideals. No, the disciples of
the wise – Mo’ed Katan has instead “the righteous” – they do not seek rest, peace of mind. They do not
wish that for themselves or for others. Rather, they invite restlessness, questioning, controversy, a
continuous process of examination and re-examination, interpretation and re-interpretation. Otherwise
there is stagnation and superficiality, irresponsibility and the end of creativity.

The word in this teaching for “rest” is menuchah. So we could say/think/learn from this that the disciples
of the wise – the Torah scholars – have/know no menuchah, but they do have/know shalom – something
different than “rest!” Shalom literally means “wholeness,” “completeness.” This could be in the sense of a
homogenized unity – or in the sense of an inclusivity that takes in contrasting, even contradictory “distant
worlds/ dimensions” – as the mystics put it. We could continue on and on just concerning this word
shalom with which I opened our engaging thought together. But I feel now that sufficient ground has
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been uncovered – that we’ve entered into enough of the rooms and halls and chambers and levels of this
word to be able to write it and engage it together with some decent measure of response-ability.

Now, we haven’t even gotten to our text – our eighteen lines of page 54a from Masechet Yoma! Or,
perhaps we have begun to arrive – to approach - there, indirectly. Indeed, before we continue, let’s
pause. Let’s turn aside from my words – from my writing – which I now write and you at some different
now in the future read; and let’s do a little thinking and writing in relation just to this where we are now so
far. – How can we characterize what this writing thus far – what Steve has written here and now each of
us is reading? What can we say about the style, the structure, the feel of this writing – and what it does
to us as we read it – what happens between its character and each of us – I and you as readers? Let’s
think about this for just a few minutes, jot down some ideas – and share these with one another via
the forum for sharing our computer course environment offers us – and only then – we’ll continue ---

Continuing, then. There are six orders/orderings/arrangements or thematic sections to the Talmud –
actually these are the six orders of the Mishnah – and within each thematic section there are masechtot.
Masechet Yoma is part of Seder Zemanim – the Order of [Sacred] Times. Yoma means “The Day” – and,
of course, The Day par excellence is Yom Kippur – I love the resonance of its fancier form – Yom
HaKippurim – The Day of Atonements. That plural suggests something so very awesome, something
so very much more.

Now, because associative connection is a critical principle for organizing what ended up in what
masechet, though most of the explorations involve the theme of each masechet – in the case of “our text”
– Yom HaKippurim – by way of association all kinds of other themes are arrived at; themes that outwardly
anyway are not immediately related to this most awe-evoking of days. The avodah – the service of
prayer and sacrificial offerings in the Temple in Jerusalem – was very very elaborate and dramatic on
Yom HaKippurim – the details of which are explored in our masechet. The crescendo of the avodah of
this day of days is the one time a year entrance by the kohen gadol – the high priest – into the Sacred of
Sacred Places. These explorations of the avodah of the day at one point bring us to our eighteen or so
lines on page 54a. Here is the page as a whole:

Susan Handelman, in her “Rabbinic Thought: The Divinity of the Text,” discusses the graphic form of the
Talmud page – both technically, what’s on the page – and philosophically, what this layout can be
understood to suggest as a worldview. Let’s pause here for a few minutes to focus our own feelings and
thoughts, each of us, in relation to just this – not yet to the specific content of this page – not yet to the
meanings of its words – but rather for a few minutes “just” to the graphic design of the page. Feel and
think and jot down some ideas – what does the layout of the page suggest to us – to me, to you?
Devote a couple of minutes to this and then return to what I am writing here – what you are reading ---

Perhaps we noticed that there are no vowels – indeed, there is no punctuation even! Again, let’s stop for
a minute and reflect on how this effects our reading of – the way(s) we read – this text? And, once more,
let’s continue ---

Here are the lines we’re going to engage – with vowels and punctuation – by our own Israeli Rabbi Adin
Steinsaltz.
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And here is my translation of our passage. Let’s readjust the first part for now – the first six lines of my
translation – these are in dark red. We are at the gate – the sha’ar – of our text – which, by the way, is
the Hebrew word for the so-called frontpiece or title page of a book! We are leaving our world behind us
and entering the world of the text! We’ll encounter the image of the gate(s) toward the end of our text.
So, once again – let’s read – and let’s – each of us at our computer – whether from the screen or
printing it out – whether from the screen or from a page of paper we print it out onto – this will, in my
view,
effect/change our reading experience – actually I suggest printing out – at least my translation of our
Talmud text – and I suggest – even if we are alone – reading it aloud – for now just the first six lines of
my translation – and only then continue to read what I have written here.

In First Kings Chapter 8 we encounter the dedication of the Temple built by Shlomo HaMelech. (Hmm,
there’s that word again – shalom!) Now, remember: before this time, what we have is the Mishkan – the
portable Tabernacle – the Hebrew word Mishkan literally means “Dwelling Place” or “Indwelling” – the
place – perhaps a place – where the transcendent Divine is experienced as also being immanent. The
ark carrying the stone tablets with the words of the Divine as received by Moshe on them (at least one of
the sets is broken). When the ark was part of the Mishkan it had to be carried along with the rest of the
Mishkan when it was not set-up, but rather in transit along with the Israelites wandering en route to the
Promised Land. Now it’s being brought to its permanent resting place, it’s permanent home.
Nevertheless, the law demands that the staves/the poles by which the ark is – used to be – carried – are
to remain in their rings. (The Hebrew word for these carrying poles is badim – a word linguistically related
to the same word – that means cloth – because cloth is actually a weave, a textile, a texture of many
small yet nonetheless cords or strands.)

(We might here note that part of Shlomo HaMelech’s prayer at the dedication of the Temple is the
exclamation: “But will the Divine really dwell on earth [and all the more so in this House]?! Why, even the
heavens to their uttermost reaches cannot contain You, how much less this House/Temple that I have
built!”)

Now, Rav Yehudah is intrigued (perhaps even to the point of being unable to sleep soundly!) by a
contradiction in verse 8 in this chapter (remember, that’s in Chapter 8 of First Kings) – a contradiction
which the average listener/reader might not linger over – might figure out some either vague or specific
way to resolve it – or might just not have the patience to even notice it at all – or be at all intrigued by it.
If the ark’s carrying poles could be seen as the first part of the verse says – why could they be seen – by
whom – when – from where? Here’s enough ambiguity to keep us busy for a while! But then comes the
second part of the verse – telling us that the poles could not be seen! One simple, immediate resolution
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maybe could be reached by focusing on the word “outside” in the second part of the verse – “outside of
the Kodesh Hakodashim.” Maybe one possibility is that the poles could be seen – they were visible –
from the inside of the Kodesh Hakodashim, but not from the outside. Hmm. But then we’re talking about
only one person – the kohen gadol – seeing them; only he can enter the Kodesh Hakodashim on this one
day of the year. But wouldn’t that be obvious?! Of course, the kohen gadol when he enters the Kodesh
Hakodashim can see the carrying poles of the ark! Anyway, Rav Yehudah doesn’t see any easy – even
involved but plausible – resolution. There’s a contradiction. “Nirin v’eyn nirin.” - “They are seen/visible
and they are not seen/not visible.”

Still, let’s not lose this word “outside.” It might not make very much sense – if any at all – when
understood literally, logically as far as the geography of the situation; but it might work strongly in the
poetic structure of our text and thus in the philosophy, the worldview that can be seen (!) to emerge.
Seen versus unseen, outside versus inside, transcendent versus immanent…

Let’s pause here – and try ourselves to respond to Rav Yehudah’s question: How can this be – that they
are seen/visible and they are not seen/not visible?! Let’s think of – and share with each other in writing –
one or two possibilities how such a contradiction could be. Let’s devote a few minutes to this – and only
then we’ll continue ---

OK, we’ve arrived at the baraita – which – hello-ho?! – literally means “outside”! It’s an Aramaic word; the
Hebrew translation would be “chitzoni” – “outside.” It’s a Tannaic tradition – but one “outside” of the
collection of Tannaic traditions edited by Rabbi Yehudah HaNasi – that we call the Mishnah; “Rabbi”
(pronounced Rae-bee) – as he is simply – honorifically – called, didn’t/couldn’t include all the traditions
that had accumulated by his time in his legal opus. Let’s now – each of us – read – aloud, even if
we’re alone – my translation of this baraita – it’s the next eleven lines – in purple.

What does the baraita do? It considers several possibilities. The first two do not bear out – against the
text. A third possibility is then presented. First, we consider the possibility that seems most likely – I
could think that the stave were not extended – in other words, they were simply left in their normal
position. Why extend them? But verse 8 says that they were lengthened and thus seen out in the
Kodesh – in the Sacred Area/Realm that faced the D’vir/the Kodesh Hakodashim. OK. Well, it’s
plausible – probably the simplest explanation and resolution – the simplest answer – is that the staves
somehow tore the curtain and in that way they were seen. But the same verse says that they were not
seen! Remember the verse: “And/now they lengthened the staves, so that the ends of the staves were
seen out in the Kodesh before the D’vir, and/but they were not seen outside; and there they are unto this
day.”

(Notice the close of the verse – “and there they are unto this day.” The immediate meaning is at the time
this chapter of First Kings was written – apparently some considerable time after the period of Solomon.
But another very experiential meaning can be “and there they are unto this day” – at the time of the
reader – even if that is after the destruction of the Temple – even after the destruction of both the First
and Second Temples! How can this be so? How could the staves still – at the time of all readers of this
text – including us – how can they still be extended in such away that they are both seen and not seen?!)

Now, again, we can identify opposites/contradictions: first, the ends of the staves have been moved so
that they extend from their normal location in their rings – versus – the ends of the staves have not been
moved – they do not extend from their normal location in their rings. And second, they tore the
curtain/the veil – versus – they did not tear the curtain. These are variations of seen versus unseen,
outside versus inside. Thus, the contradiction remains.

Now the baraita suggests away of understanding the contradiction – how it could be both sides of all
these variations of the contradiction: “They pressed forth and protruded like the two breasts of a woman,
as it is said: ‘A bundle/a sachet of myrrh – [so] is my beloved to me lying/resting/nestling between my
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breasts.’ (Song of Songs 1:13) ” Somehow the erotic has entered into a discussion of the geography of the
Temple – that is representative of a theology that is an anthropology that is a philosophy of our human
situation vis-à-vis the Divine – Ultimate Truth, Ultimate Meaning. So, we need to ask and explore why the
introduction of the erotic here – and adherently, of gender? Let’s pause at this point – to think about this
– and to jot down some ideas about it.

Continuing, then: We should also note that our baraita has introduced the erotic into the problematic
raised – cast forth/hurled (!) – by Rav Yehudah – our baraita has introduced the erotic through a verse
from the Song of Songs. The Song of Songs is understood/is read by the Rabbis as an allegory on the
love between Israel – and, in the view of some, humanity generally – and the Divine. Though not always,
usually the Rabbis depict the Divine either as masculine or as an abstract reality that is neither masculine
nor feminine – though this too is expressed through, in some instances, the masculine gender and, in
other instances, through the feminine – there is no neuter gender in Hebrew grammar – while Its or His
beloved – Israel in particular, humanity in general – is always or nearly always depicted as feminine.

Now, two words/images from this Song of Songs verse especially intrigue me. First and most importantly,
the word “between” – the image of the sachet of myrrh resting/nestling between
the lover’s breasts. Note also that our baraita could have sufficed in saying “like the breasts of a woman;”
however, in the spirit of this word-idea “between” – our baraita makes explicit – “like the two breasts of a
woman.” Keeping in mind the overall poetic/thematic structure of our text – of our Talmudic passage –
this – both of these words – “between” as well as “two” – can be seen to be a keyword. I invite you
to join me in thinking about this and jotting down some thoughts concerning it.

Second, the image of myrrh intrigues me. It is a spice which has a beautiful fragrance – a smell. Smell
can be seen to be the most intangible and ephemeral of our five senses. It is here, but barely. It
involves something that is present, but also something that is absent. Often it evokes an associative
memory for us – the smell reminds us and thus transports us to some past experience that involved that
smell or
something like it. Often fragrance registers with us only or especially a bit after the fact – after the carrier
of that fragrance passes by us – such that we then are drawn to turn around to see what creature has
left us with this intriguing allurement!

Again: our baraita has introduced the Song of Songs into the problematic of our text. What is the Song of
Songs about? We can say that it is most centrally about a series of opposites that are and remain
throughout its eight chapters in constant play – that never reaches full synthesis, resolution or
consummation: male versus female, self versus other, city versus country, night versus day, dream
versus wakefulness, public versus private, question versus answer, arrival versus departure, finding
versus losing, presence versus absence, open versus closed, identical-ness versus difference, desire
versus its realization.

Let’s just paraphrase our baraita’s embrace (!) of this third possibility in trying to understand how the
staves of the ark could be nirin v’eyn nirin. The ends of the staves are extended such that they are visible
– but in their extension they are pushing out against the curtain/the veil of the Kodesh Hakodashim.
Thus, they are simultaneously seen and not seen – like a woman’s breasts

Let’s now read the next passage in our text – I’ve set this in its own color – so-called teal! – Rav
Katina continues with the erotic image – now extended (!) to the keruvim that hovered over the ark.
Now we
encounter another contradiction – and the word/image/idea of “between” again! The keruvim are
separate beings – opposite or different – as masculine and feminine – that “face/ confront each other”
(Exodus 25:20). However, they are also to be made “of one piece [of beaten gold] with the cover” (Exodus
25:19) – or as Rav Katina expresses it, they are “intertwined/enfolded each with the other.” We should
also note (in Exodus 25:22) that “between the two keruvim” is the place/reality/perspective where Moshe is
to meet the Divine and receives Its commandments.
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The next movement/development in our text’s unfolding is an a difficulty/a challenge/an objection raised
by Rav Chisda and further supported by Rav Yehudah – by a teaching that Rav Yehudah has learned
from Rav: How can we say that the they would roll back the curtain/the veil of the Kodesh Hakodashim so
that the people could see the ark – could see, especially, the keruvim hovering over the ark – when
looking upon these was prohibited even to the Levites – who were responsible for assembling and
dismantling and carrying the Mishkan?!

Ah, responds Rav Nachman, this prohibition applied only to the Mishkan – during its desert period – the
erotic imagery is extended (!) by Rav Nachman – this prohibition applied only to the Mishkan – during its
desert period when the Israelites were first going out with the Divine! At that stage of their relationship,
Israel was not so open and intimate with the Divine. But at the further stage of Israel’s entering the Land
– and replacing the portable, wandering Mishkan with the settled Temple – Israel “does not keep her most
intimate self hidden from” her Beloved. Thus, in the Temple the people could be shown the keruvim!

Now let’s read the last part of our text – I’ve set this in a pink font. – What question is engaged by this
passage? - Whether the people’s being shown the keruvim happened in the First or Second Temple.
Again, as in our baraita, two possibilities are considered – each is rejected – and then there are two more
possibilities considered – the second and last of the four being the one taken up and embraced (!). – We
can try diagramming the possibilities on our own – and only then continue with my writing here – which is
your reading!

Now, let’s try to see – to see, perhaps, both what can be seen – what is visible – and what cannot be
seen – what is invisible – in this passage! This could not have taken place in the First Temple – because
there was no curtain/veil between the Kodesh and the Kodesh Hakodashim – so no curtain could be
unrolled as Rav Katina says it was so that the people could see the keruvim! Hmm, perhaps it was in
the Second Temple that this occurred. No, that can’t be – because in the Second Temple there were no
keruvim!

OK, then it must have happened in the First Temple! But this is only possible if we can identify some
other curtain/veil that was involved! Rabbi Zeyra helps us out herewith a teaching he learned from Rav –
that while, in the First Temple, there wasn’t a curtain separating between the Kodesh and the Kodesh
Hakodashim, there were thirteen other curtains/veils in the Temple.

No, says Rav Acha bar Ya’akov! It was definitely the Second Temple where this occurred – as well as
the protruding of the ends of the ark’s staves – their protruding, pushing out from behind the curtain/veil
between the Kodesh and the Kodesh Hakodashim. But what about the keruvim? ! Rav Acha conveys to
us the teaching he has learned – that while there were no three dimensional beaten gold keruvim
hovering over the ark, there was a drawing of the keruvim on the walls of the Kodesh Hakodashim! What
a stunning stroke (!) our text leaves us with – this weaving of words in written form! – In the Second
Temple there were no keruvim – these had been destroyed, taken captive or hidden during the
destruction of the First Temple. But the memory of those keruvim was drawn on the wall and it was this
drawing that the people were shown – were able to see – even as that reminded them that they could not
see the original actual keruvim in all their glory.

We might now try reading the whole of our text – and I want to suggest – so yes, I will suggest – I do
urge myself and each of you to not only read it aloud – but this time to even – I know this is a radical idea
– as each of us sit alone before our computer --- how about each of us leave the computer long enough
to find another human being – with whom we can read this text – with whom we can share it and discuss
it,
engage (!) it closely (!)? I hope we can still tell the difference between machines and human beings.
Though a machine such as the computer can play a very significant role when there is no human being
around – or the human being(s) we “wish” to engage is not present or readily available. And, actually,
while something is lost when the computer takes the place of a person, something may also be gained –
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perhaps not dissimilar to the trade- off between seeing the keruvim as they were in all their glory – and
seeing a drawing of them – or a description of them in writing!

So, what do you think of all this? What can we learn from our text about the project of the Rabbis – about
their worldview, their philosophy? Think, reflect, consider, connect, contrast, challenge, apply, explore,
extend – and share with your colleagues in this course and with me – via the “environment” for sharing
that this online course offers us.

(You might at some point soon want to check out an essay that’s in the spirit ofour present study – just now
published as a little book – The Talmud and the Internet: A Journey between Worlds (Oh-ho! There’s that word-
image-idea again – “between!”) – by Jonathan Rosen.