Berakhot 45
“One hundred women are considered the equivalent of two men.”
Now that we have spent days learning about the small details associated with saying blessings before meals, and in what order and what foods are considered primary, the text turns to saying grace after meals. I fear we are in for a long haul of protracted examination of after-meal blessings.
I learned today that a “zimmun” is when three (usually) men are invited to get together to say a blessing of gratitude. Although women may form a quorum among themselves, they are not obligated to do so, and such a grouping cannot include a combination of men and women. And most likely, like the waiter who only counts if he is eating at least the equivalent of an olive-bulk, they are busy serving the men.
Women are once again mentioned in the same category as minors and slaves (although women and slaves are allowed to form a zimmun among their respective groups – not just together). But here comes the zinger: “One hundred women are considered the equivalent of two men.” The comment is meant to compare the fact that one hundred women are treated like two men, who are not obligated to recite zimmun, and further down the text somewhat recovers when it says that each woman has a mind of her own and is in fact a person (thank goodness for the acknowledgement), but still the comment reverberates with a painful comment on the role of women. Some of this thinking was carried over into future generations, when women were considered unworthy of being granted the right to participate in our democracy and vote.
Despite the unfortunate reference to women, what is wonderful about the discussion of what constitutes a group meal and the tenor of one’s voice is the emphasis on community. The advice to not speak over others and to essentially say a prayer in “one voice” is a reminder that we are bonded together as a faith and community. The recent synagogue services that I have attended (I am still trying to find my place), have organized shabbat dinners after Friday night services in support of the importance of the community meal.
The Koren Talmud explains the standard of tithing in an agrarian society, with the first tithe given to the Levites who put aside a portion for the priests (the Kohen, which is my family’s roots). This allowed the priests and the Levites who served them to feed themselves while they devote themselves to prayer and service to a higher calling, very much like synagogue membership fees today.
The mention of tithing and priests reminded me of the roots of my family, which are rabbis descended from the Kohen tribe. This never seemed very relevant to me growing up, and the only real manifestation was when my grandfather died and my father and brother had to wait outside the gates of the cemetery where he was buried. But a few years ago I attended a family reunion and learned the role my paternal grandfather’s ancestors played in rural Lithuania. They were village rabbis who traveled from town to town conducting services and they presumably lived off the generosity of their congregants (a form of tithing.) Sadly, I also learned from the huge family tree that was wrapped around the walls of a side room at the reunion hotel that my grandfather’s family all perished on the same day in 1941 in Lithuania. They were rounded up with other Jews on that day and shot in massive sand pits. 96% of Jews were killed in Lithuania by the end of the war. It was a very profound moment to realize that my grandfather had lost his parents and sisters and came to this country with nothing but grief. It explained why he was always so reserved, and I regretted never having the inquisitiveness to talk to him about his life in Lithuania and the family he lost.