<p>So many were “pretty in pink”. I’ll bet there was mixing of cotton and linen, and even linen and wool! (now that’s a TRUE abomination! ;))</p>
<p>"
Rabbi Aaron Halevi of Barcelona wrote in his book “Sefer HaChinuch - The Book of Mitzvah Education” the reason why it is forbidden to mix wool and linen together is because it destroys the spiritual fabric of the universe. This can be explained as follows: Each and every thing on earth, except for man, has its own spiritual force that influences it. When some of these earthly items are mixed together, they cause their spiritual counterparts to become entangled. Once entangled, they cannot perform their tasks as originally designed, thusly destroying the spiritual fabric of the universe."</p>
<p>Thanks for the laugh. That kind of wacky thinking is rife in Judaism: division of dark and light, water and land drawn out to wholly ridiculous degrees. The lesson I try to remember is that Judaism has built into it - since at least the Babylonian exile - the mandate of creative interpretation and the valuing of that as both the highest form of devotion and your personal success. But it does lead to some silliness. </p>
<p>One of my favorites in recent years was the son of the “grand” rabbi of Italy - whatever the heck that is because I pay no attention to nonsensical appointed rabbis - wrote a book about ritual murder and argued creatively that maybe, just maybe some of the confessions extracted under torture in the late Middle Ages were true. Talk about touching the 3rd rail! His point wasn’t that ritual murder actually occurred but more that if you give credence to the idea then you can think about the kind of perversion which might lead to such a thing, given that it is unthinkable in real Jewish practice. In other words, as far as I can tell - because under fire he suppressed the book - he was trying to be creative about how people under pressure can be horribly perverted into the worst kind of wrong. It’s an interesting topic given the history of what has happened to Jews and it would, if done more sensitively, have been a way of perhaps grappling with how Christians can preach love and kindness and yet be perpetually unloving and unkind and why, as Thomas Mann said, Germany sold its collective soul to the devil. But sometimes you go too far out on the creative limb and it breaks. While Judaism is far more open to self-criticism than any other religion, the kind which opens the door to more cruelty from the loving and kind is not a worthwhile effort. BTW, I only worked through this because I was so horrified by the material when it first came out that I needed to understand what he was trying to do.</p>
<p>But on a lighter note, one can argue just as effectively that God intended for us to mix linen and wool because we were given brains with which to decide that combination works well and does no harm to the universe. We could argue, for example, that using both encourages more responsible stewardship of both the earth and animals. We could then build our exegesis and see who has the most points at the end of the game.</p>
<p>You could argue it, but the Torah is quite clear: it is an abomination. (We could have an interesting conversation about how it came to be, but let’s not. ;)) (Ha-Levi, after his explanation, added, “We still a mystic to explain it.” Big help!)</p>
<p>Lergnom, I liked reading your post but you are getting into very heavy territory.</p>
<p>Pink is easier.</p>
<p>I am not in love with the no mix concept. I remember walking into an orthodox synagogue when I was a kid. The men and women sat separately. The men ran the place. </p>
<p>I thought this is not right. From what I saw in everyday life, the women are the bosses. :)</p>
<p>I mean, I thought so, too… until I looked up the spelling for the word “pink” in Hebrew and found two variations. I am presenting the Gematria (mystical numerical equivalents per each letter of the alphabet, as in a=1, b=2, etc…) for all to ponder. </p>
<p>But even there, I ran into a double answer.</p>
<p>So here are two choices. IIIIIFFF you spell pink (“varod” in Hebrew) with 4 letters (vov, raish, vov, dalet) the numerical formula is 6 + 200 +6 + 4 = 216. </p>
<p>Buuuut, iiiiifffff you use only three letters (vov, raish, dalet), the mystical/mathematical formula for the word “pink” becomes 6 + 200 + 6 = 212. </p>
<p>Four less!! I think to favor the spelling with fewer letters, but don’t know for sure.</p>
<p>Now if you can find deeper meaning in the number 212, dstark, you’re on your way to solving a mystery :)</p>
<p>I’ll leave it to you gentlemen to ponder the deeper meaning of life. I’m going to get out and enjoy the sunshine and lack of rain. Only happens so often. Got to make the best of it.</p>
<p>mini, I know it’s in both Leviticus and Deuteronomy - though for the life of me I couldn’t say where. I tend to be somewhat inspecific in conversation and my words sort of come out. I think that kind of thing is hilarious - and not very Jewish at all. That kind of artificial division reminds me of really ancient legalistic thinking which sought extreme balance in all relations. For example, one of my favorites is the ancient code - Babylonian perhaps - which said things like “if a house falls and kills the son of the owner then the son of the builder shall be killed”. It’s a non-human way of attempting to balance the actions of this world. It isn’t legalistic in any sense we can relate to because the son of the builder has no relation to what happened and thus there is no justice other than this weird balancing. This is the kind of thinking found in a world of sacrifice because that act, the burning of what you grew or bred or raised, is an intentional destruction not so much offered in thanks as we like to believe but as an act of balancing for what has grown, etc. </p>
<p>It makes me think about how close ancient Temple Judaism - pre-Judaism - was to the banned specific practices like child sacrifice, ritual homosexual sex and ritual sex with animals (which are presented in that order in Leviticus). We don’t live in that era in more than one sense. </p>
<p>I know this goes off topic but this is the kind of thing I think about. So for example, I’ve been studying the surviving practice of ritual murder. It survives almost always as the murder of daughters, and of course then as a matter of “honor”. As people from these cultures have moved to the US, we’ve seen some examples here. I find the surviving ritual helps me understand basics like Abraham and Isaac. We tend to take the story to mean that Abraham was a good & righteous person who obeyed God and took his son to be sacrificed but because he was so good a ram was provided instead. </p>
<p>When I look at stories and studies of honor killings, I see a different meaning: Abraham was listening to what he believed to be an order from God and in that belief he was about to kill his future. This is what happens in other cultures today: they kill their future to preserve honor that exists in the present. They listen to that. I see the Abraham story in this light as more basic: don’t kill your child. You may believe God tells you to do this - and we can see in the press daily evidence that people believe God says all sorts of things, many of them insanely cruel - but don’t do it if it means killing your future. </p>
<p>So by looking at the surviving practice today, I think the intent of the old story was to set out a specific behavior and to warn us. Ancient people knew that people believed lots of wrong things. It’s easy to become convinced you need to do harm to this person or that. You need revenge. You feel compelled to do that. You believe it is the right thing to do. I think we tend to interpret Abraham in a dangerous fashion, as saying really strong belief is ok and will be rewarded, that belief in and of itself is righteous. But really strong belief kills daughters. It blows up day care centers. I think the ancients were trying to say: don’t listen to what’s going on in your head when it crosses this line. The Canaanites - including the Carthaginians - burnt their children, destroying their futures. Don’t destroy the future.</p>
<p>That’s why the stuff about linen and wool is so funny to me. So much of Judaism draws lines about right and wrong but some of it is more like remnants of truly ancient ways of thinking. You could extend the prohibition against planting different seeds together to prevent hybridization and thus the development of more productive and disease resistant plants. That would be an act of extreme devotion in that way of thinking.</p>
<p>Lergnom, reading your post…I see modest improvement over the centuries in the way people think. Maybe the modest improvement is due to to the fact the over the last 5,000 years there have been only 300 generations or so of people…</p>
<p>Did you see the stories that mentioned the number of concentration camps was much larger than thought? </p>
<p>p3t, when I read “Buuuut, iiiiifffff you use only three letters” I could HEAR the talmudic sing-song in my mind’s ear. :)</p>
<p>Yoking oxen: I remember the prohibition about yoking a donkey and an ox, but nothing about a female and male. The interpretation I learned (that was my torah portion) was about not placing unequal/unfair burdens on animals, or humans, for that matter. The linen and wool prohibition is in that unfortunate category of “heck if we can come up with any reason for this, but we’ve got to follow it anyway (well, if you’re orthodox, that is)”, a la the red heifer.</p>
<p>" They listen to that. I see the Abraham story in this light as more basic: don’t kill your child. You may believe God tells you to do this - and we can see in the press daily evidence that people believe God says all sorts of things, many of them insanely cruel - but don’t do it if it means killing your future."</p>
<p>I believe, for what it’s worth, that the angel on the mount was another person, who told Abraham that no God worth worshiping would demand the death of a child (who was 37 at the time, but no matter). After that passage in Genesis, Abraham never worships God again, and God never talks to him again, and Abraham has six more sons, and as many daughters.</p>