#rabbi yosei

[dadyomi]

Saturday 7/22, Gittin 67: Rabbi Deez

("Rabbi Deez?" "Yeah, DEEZ NUTZ.")

In reading this list I thought "a scholar when he chooses to be one" was a funny and affectionate backhand. Then I read "a pile of nuts" and laughed out loud, but the explanation is both less funny and more heartwarming, because it's really very kind and complimentary. What a nice and entertaining list of the Sages.

But I'm still definitely the Rabbi Yehuda. Tag yourself!

[writer-at-the-table]

[It was taught in a] baraita that Rabbi Yosei said: In all my days, I did not call my wife: My wife, nor my ox: My ox. Rather, I called my wife: My home, because she is the essence of my home, and I called my ox: My field..."

That's actually really sweet (The bit about the wife, not the bit about the ox)

[zooptseyt]

Also i really love how antisemites are like "the talmud is a secret text the jews hide from us that teaches them how to cheat christians" when the talmud is freely publicly accessible in its entirety and is like "does it count as something going from the private to the public domain if you throw it from your window into somebody else's window and it never touches the ground" and "Rabbi Yochanan said that Rabbi Yishmael, son of Rabbi Yosei, had a massive cock. The size of Rabbi Yochanan's cock was smaller than Rabbi Yishmael's, but the exact size is up for debate. Both sides agree that it was pretty huge, too, though."

[nonstandardrepertoire]

Parashat Vayḥi: וְיִדְגּוּ | vəyidgu

This parashah helps establish that, due to our similarity to fish, the Jewish people are immune to the evil eye.

No, really.

Towards the beginning of this week’s text, before the long poem with blessings and maledictions, Yisra’eil blesses Yoseif’s children Efráyim and Mənasheh. As part of this blessing, he hopes that the two will be blessed וְיִדְגּוּ לָרֹב בְּקֶֽרֶב הָאָֽרֶץ | vəyidgu larov bəqérev ha’áretz | “and fishify abundantly in the midst of the earth” (Bəreishit 48:16).

Fishify? Fishify. Yidgu, the verb in question, shows up nowhere else in Tanakh. It comes transparently from the root דגה | DGH, which unambiguously means “fish”. (So, for example, when G-d sends a sea beast to devour Yonah, the creature in question is described as a דָּג גָּדוֹל | dag gadol | “big fish”, using this exact same root.) The grand old man of the expanding Israelite clan blesses two of his grandsons to do like the fishes do, and to do it a lot.

In common with other living things, fish tend to beget more fish. Before the advent of industrial fishing, their supply struck many as inexhaustible. There’s always another fish in the proverbial sea. And so this is normally how Yisra’eil’s blessing is understood: multiply abundantly, be fruitful, have lots of kids with lots of kids of their own.

But still, the word comes from the word for fish. And so Rabbi Yosei, in Bərakhot 20a, hones in on this and surmises that the children of Yoseif are immune from the evil eye, because fish, it turns out, are immune from the evil eye and Yisra’eil has just blessed these boys to be like fish. (The evil eye apparently bounces off water; hexing a fish with it is like trying to shine a laser thru a mirror.)

Well, OK, that’s the tribe of Yoseif. What about the rest of us? Psalm 77 comes to the rescue: Verse 16 identifies G-d’s people as being בְּנֵי־יַעֲקֹב וְיוֹסֵף | bənei Ya’aqov vəYoseif | “the children of Ya’aqov and Yoseif”, which is an important prooftext for Rabbi El’azar in Sanhedrin 19b to establish that person A can be called the child of person B even without a direct biological link between the two. In explaining this line from the psalms, Rabbi El’azar concludes of the Jews לְפִיכָךְ נִקְרְאוּ עַל שְׁמוֹ | ləfikhakh niqrə’u al shəmo | “therefore they are [all] called by his [ie, Yoseif’s] name”. So we’re good, we’re covered, we’re all children of Yoseif and all of us, like fish, are immune to the evil eye.

Is it such a good thing to be a fish in the middle of the land? I confess that every time I read this blessing, I imagine a trout flopping around in the desert and feel less than certain of the desirability of this blessing. Immunity to the evil eye is all well and good, but is that all there is to this?

Fish keep making other fish in part because so many things like to eat them. Seals, birds, bears, even other fish — to be a fish is to live in a world full of things eager to gobble you up. And, of course, fish eat other things in turn. There can’t be infinite fish not only because predators keep the numbers down, but also because there isn’t an infinite supply of food to support them. Their number is constrained at both ends.

The more standard Biblical verb for increasing is יָסַף | yasaf. Indeed, Yoseif’s name comes from this very stem, which is why you’ll sometimes see folks named Increase in certain corners of space and time. But Yisra’eil doesn’t use this stem when he blesses these two grandchildren. He uses the word for fish in a way used nowhere else, even tho he certainly knows the more common root (because it is, again, the name of his most beloved son!). Why?

Well, if he had, we might understand him as blessing the tribes of Yoseif to increase and increase and only increase, to increase without bound, squeezing out every other tribe, every other person, every other living thing until the whole earth is covered in descendants of Yoseif, a nightmarish monoculture obliterating any other way of being in the world. And that would be a malediction indeed.

Yisra’eil blesses them to teem abundantly, yes, but to teem abundantly like fish, fish that, as noted above, only teem in the context of their world. There are enough to fill their node in the ecosystem fully, but not more than the densely interconnected fabric of life can bear. Be like fish, Yisra’eil blesses: plentiful, but in balance. Secure in your numbers, but not at the expense of the rest of the world. That’s a blessing I’d keep and cherish. With that I’d gladly keep on swimming.

[dafyomilimerick]

Bava Batra 101

Rabbi Yosei: "The catacomb's plan Has a niche on each side so you can Bury folks like a bolt (Up and down)." "No, you dolt! Bury donkeys that way, not a man!"

[rw7771]

According to Chabad.org, gematria is a method of assigning numerical values to Hebrew letters and words to uncover hidden meanings and connections: 

How it works

Each letter of the Hebrew alphabet has a specific numerical value. For example, aleph is 1, bet is 2, and so on. To calculate the gematria of a word or phrase, add up the numerical values of each letter. For example, the Hebrew word av (father) has a gematria of 3 because 1 + 2 = 3. 

Purpose

Gematria is used to explore symbolism, find hidden meanings, and gain deeper insights into religious and mystical texts. 

History

The earliest mention of gematria is in the Baraita of the 32 Rules, written by Rabbi Eliezer ben Rabbi Yosei HaGelili. It is also described in Pirkei Avot as a "condiment of wisdom". 

Example

The word "life" in Hebrew is chai, which is made up of the letters khet and yud. Khet is 8 and yud is 10, so the gematria of chai is 18. This is why the number 18 in Judaism represents life. 

Gematria is similar to Roman numerals, where letters are added together to equal a number. The letters retain their value regardless of where they appear in a sequence. 

[anonymousdandelion]

Shalom Aleichem

New ficlet, written for a Guess the Author game and inspired by a passage of Talmud!

Shalom Aleichem, by me (DandelionDrabbles)

Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley are invited to have Shabbat dinner at the home of Rabbi Yosei bar Yehuda. While there, they inadvertently inspire a Talmudic teaching.

Rated G, 500 words.

“Tell me again,” Crowley hissed in Aziraphale’s ear, lagging behind the cluster of humans they were accompanying,  “why you agreed to Shabbat dinner.”

“Really, my dear.” Aziraphale lowered his voice too. “What did you think would happen, when you suggested going to synagogue tonight?”

“Nothing,” Crowley retorted. “Was just… bored.”

He didn’t add that there was something… comforting about being welcomed in, surrounded by familiar language and practice, in a community without overzealous would-be exorcists wielding that newfangled holy water and whatnot. Maybe he should have been bothered by the kedushah, the holiness of the prayers themselves. But he wasn’t. So long as he didn’t kiss the Torah, Crowley was fine.

Anyway. He didn’t have to admit any of that.

Although he did think, sometimes, that Aziraphale guessed some of it.

He even suspected — sometimes — Aziraphale might feel similarly. Not that the angel’s feet were in any danger from consecrated ground, of course. But there was something to be said for familiarity, and community.

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale was saying now, “you can’t show up at Friday Maariv services and not expect somebody to invite you home.”

Read the rest on AO3

[jewelleria]

I replied to this post but I had too much to say and not enough space, so I’m reblogging this.

Like I said in my reply, as long as you show commitment, you’ll be taken seriously. Ordained Rabbis, no matter what denomination, understand that to convert to Judaism is difficult. To be Jewish, harder still. They want to see that you’re willing to face those challenges head on.

You expressed worry that you might not be “good enough” to convert—that God might not forgive you for what you perceive as abandoning him. In Jewish thought (specifically, the Talmud) there is no such thing. Judaism believes that God always forgives, and that to not be good enough, whatever that means, is impossible, because in us there is always a capacity to change.

Talmudic Tangent™ below the cut:

This idea that we can always be redeemed is found in many places in Jewish thought, but my favorite is a portion in the Torah (Deuteronomy 21:8). It’s about the ben sorer umoreh, the rebellious son. The text is very specific—the Mishna and the Talmud even more so—about the things a child must do, and the age they must be, in order to be considered a ben sorer umoreh.

Why? Because the punishment for being labeled a ben sorer umoreh is really really bad. Upon discovering that their child ate a certain amount of their father’s meat and drank a certain amount of their father’s wine, while at a very specific age of thirteen and a bit that I can’t remember, the child’s parents—his own parents!—must snitch on him to the elders of the city. Then he must be stoned to death by the community at the ripe and potential-filled age of thirteen (and a bit).

Extreme is hardly enough to describe that punishment, imo. The Talmud comes to the same conclusion, in which Rabbi Yosei HaGelili (Jose the Galilean) comments as follows.

Is it simply due to the fact that the boy ate a tarteimar of meat and drank a half-log of Italian wine that the Torah states that he shall be taken out to court to be stoned? Rather, the Torah penetrated the ultimate mind-set of the stubborn and rebellious son and the inevitable results of his actions, and it is understood that he will continue on this path, and in the end he will squander his father’s property, and then, seeking the pleasures to which he had become accustomed but not finding them, he will go out to the crossroads and rob people. (Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Sanhedrin, 72a)

Basically, our sages justify stoning a thirteen-year-old to death on the grounds that he stole some of his dad’s expensive stuff because this very specific behavior (listed above) is an indicator that he will never change. They assert that such a person is stuck in that mindset, and that they will inevitably go on to be a terrible person.

Now, let us assume that the rebellious son is all of us. We have all transgressed, sinned, made mistakes. Should we all be taken out to the courtyard and stoned? Should we all be cast aside as a hopeless case? This, in essence, is what the Talmud asks. To this question, the sages reply with what I believe to be the most profound piece of Jewish text I have ever been exposed to.

It was taught: There has never been a stubborn and rebellious son and there will never be one in the future, as it is impossible to fulfill all the requirements that must be met in order to apply this halakha. And why, then, was the passage relating to a stubborn and rebellious son written in the Torah? So that you may expound upon new understandings of the Torah and receive reward for your learning. (Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Sanhedrin, 72a)

On the surface, this might not seem all that mind-blowing. But as with all Jewish teachings, we must delve deeper. I came across an answer several years ago that blew my mind.

Let’s back up for a second. To recap: the Torah brings the case of the rebellious son, and the extreme punishment he must face. The sages ask, isn’t this an overreaction? The Talmud asserts that no, it is not, because this specific behavior shows us that he will never improve, and that his rebellious mindset will never change. So we must nip it in the proverbial bud and punish him preemptively, as a preventative measure—less for what he’s already done, and more for what he may go on to do.

This, says Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks zt”l, is not characteristic of what Judaism teaches. We believe that we can only be judged, both by others and by God, for what we have already done, not for what we will do in the future. So why does the Torah, and the Talmud for that matter, even bother bringing this up? Why teach this if it’s so antithetical to Jewish teachings?

Rabbi Moshe Wolfson interprets this whole ordeal as a parable meant to teach us a lesson. Why? Because, in the Talmud, the sages say that “there has never been a stubborn and rebellious son and there will never be one in the future.” It’s impossible. It will never happen.

The reason why this story is told at all is because there is no such thing as someone who cannot change. There is no such thing as a hopeless case.

I’ll take it one step further: there is no such thing as a God who does not forgive.

Many scholars believe that Abraham was the first person to believe in a monotheistic God. But this is actually not true. Abraham believed in one God among many—what we call monolatry. Today, Rabbinic Judaism (which most denominations are built off of; one could also call it ‘mainstream Judiasm’) revolves around the belief that we must not believe in any other gods. Now, that holds true, and it is the central idea of our faith. To believe in and acknowledge the existence of other gods is, by definition, antithetical to Judaism as a religion.

But why this specific God? Why Abraham’s God? Why not the many pagan gods in the Babylonian pantheon?

A beautiful answer, given by Rabbi Shlomo Farhi, is this: Abraham’s father Terah, along with everyone else in Mesopotamia and the known world, believed in gods that, ultimately, viewed humans as inevitable transgressors. Pantheons like that of Ancient Greece and Rome (and, despite being much later, the ideas taught by Christianity) believed that humans are feeble beings who cannot help who they are. Sin, as taught by all other gods and religions, is unavoidable. We will always transgress, no matter how hard we try.

Abraham, ever the iconoclast, refused to accept that. He looked around and saw a world in which humanity worshipped ruthless and punishing gods, and didn’t follow those teachings. He didn’t become an idol worshipper. Instead, he chose to believe in a God who believed in humanity.

God believes in us. He chose the Jews—and he created humanity—because he didn’t just believe that our flaws and mistakes make us who we are. He believed that they make us better. That without the journey, without the stumbling and messing up and making bad decisions, we can never reach our full potential. Without understanding what it feels like to mess up—to, as you put it, transgress—we can never achieve the greatness we are meant for.

Judaism is a covenant. It’s a deal, of sorts. One in which we tell God, over thousands of generations and amidst every adversary: I believe in you. In turn, He redeems us, and brings us closer to our full potential, by telling us: I believe in you.

Judaism believes that all Jews, regardless of if they were born Jewish or converted, have a Jewish neshama—a Jewish soul, a Jewish essence. If you believe that you are meant to be Jewish, then you are. It’s a process, a long journey, and it takes dedication. A Jewish neshama does not make you a Jew; you must get there in the real world first. My father did it, and he taught me that he was born with a Jewish neshama. He was with us, as a people, at Mount Sinai when we received the Torah—and, if you believe it, so were you.

Just remember, through this process, that you are becoming someone new. You are coming to this with all your mistakes and regrets, and you’re holding them up to God, and you’re saying: Here. This is what I have. And this is what I plan to do with it, because there’s no such thing as someone who cannot change.

Behatzlacha (good luck) with your conversion process!

Ngl I'm attempting to find a Jewish community somewhere accessible to me- (either online or close to my college) -but I'm having a lot of trouble finding a place for me, and that is bringing on a lot of anxiety 😭

I know there's really nothing to be worried about because---by all accounts---most Jews are very welcoming to converts and, even if I study and learn and eventually come to the conclusion that Judaism isn't for me, there won't be any ill will, but like...I'm so nervous, you have no idea

Part of it is like- "is my family going to accept this? are they going to shun me? they're really devout Christians and they haven't exactly given me 'accepting of any religion I choose to follow' vibes."

Part of it is- "what if I'm not good enough to convert? what if I'm really awkward? what if I can't remember everything? what if I suck at learning Hebrew? my memory is terrible!"

And part of it is- "my trauma from the Christian church has literally made me avoid religion as a whole for like 6-8 years, jumping back into religion and especially trying to heal my relationship with G-d is giving me anxiety, is He gonna forgive me for abandoning Him? because I straight up disappeared from the face of the religious earth."

And like, I'm still obviously in the research/introspection phase of this, since I want to make certain that this is a dedication I'm willing to make, but I really do feel like this is the path I'm meant for---but the anxiety is anxiety-ing and my brain hurts

...so yeah 😭

[dadyomi]

Monday 7/17, Gittin 62: Halla of a Time

I feel like in some way we have imparted to Tupperware the values we used to place on vessels like this. As though once in the Tupperware the food is inviolate.

(I'm back! That sucked and I missed a bunch of reading! I'm all good now though!)

[keshetchai]

dafyomilimerick

Let's be clear here. It's not that animals are capable of sinning. but according to the sages, human engaged in acts of immorality (read "bestiality") with birds and beasts, rendering them contaminated. They did not do so with fish, hence them not needing the ark. @keshetchai I did not know that about the ayin hara. Tell me more?

oh!!! this is from the talmud!!!!! 

i will post a longer section than necessary because this is one of those parts of the talmud which just has a little bit of everything. we begin this part discussing the fact that Rabbi Yohanan is EXCEPTIONALLY beautiful. 

The Gemara continues to discuss Rabbi Yoḥanan’s beauty. 

and then we keep talking about it:

Rabbi Yoḥanan would go and sit by the entrance to the ritual bath. 

He said to himself: When Jewish women come up from their immersion for the sake of a mitzva, after their menstruation, they should encounter me first, so that they have beautiful children like me, and sons learned in Torah like me. This is based on the idea that the image upon which a woman meditates during intercourse affects the child she conceives.

The Rabbis said to Rabbi Yoḥanan: Isn’t the Master worried about being harmed by the evil eye by displaying yourself in this manner?

Rabbi Yoḥanan said to them: I come from the offspring of Joseph, over whom the evil eye does not have dominion, as it is written: “Joseph is a fruitful vine, a fruitful vine by a fountain [alei ayin]” (Genesis 49:22);

and Rabbi Abbahu says: Do not read the verse as saying: “By a fountain [alei ayin]”; rather, read it as: Those who rise above the evil eye [olei ayin]. Joseph’s descendants are not susceptible to the influence of the evil eye.

Rabbi Yosei bar Ḥanina said that this idea is derived from here: “And let them grow [veyidgu] into a multitude in the midst of the earth” (Genesis 48:16). Just as with regard to fish [dagim] in the sea, the water covers them and the evil eye therefore has no dominion over them, as they are not seen, so too, with regard to the offspring of Joseph, the evil eye has no dominion over them.

Bava Metzia 84a. 

Immediately after this, we’re told the story of how Resh Lakish and Rabbi Yohanan became the closest of friends and study partners, which begins with Reish Lakish seeing Yohanan taking a bath in the nude not on a rooftop. 

As you do:

The Gemara relates: One day, Rabbi Yoḥanan was bathing in the Jordan River. Reish Lakish saw him and jumped into the Jordan, pursuing him. At that time, Reish Lakish was the leader of a band of marauders. 

Rabbi Yoḥanan said to Reish Lakish: Your strength is fit for Torah study. 

Reish Lakish said to him: Your beauty is fit for women.

Rabbi Yoḥanan said to him: If you return to the pursuit of Torah, I will give you my sister in marriage, who is more beautiful than I am. 

Reish Lakish accepted upon himself to study Torah.

the end. [except not: they have a sort of tragic ending where they have a torah study argument that gets too heated, and Reish Lakish dies of guilt(?) for how he acted. Then after that R. Yohanan desperately tries for find a new chaver to fill the void, and to continue his studies but this doesn’t work because people keep agreeing with him too much instead of debating him, and so he goes mad with anger and loss and I think dies out of grief for having lost Reish Lakish.] 

based on a quick sefaria search this #fish fact also shows up in a few other places. they don’t get the effects of the evil eye because they’re covered under the water the whole time. 

[apenitentialprayer]

Kind of interesting how an episode in which David chooses not to kill Saul while the latter is pooping (1 Samuel 24) can be the source of so many ethical and theological interpretations. Rabbi Yosei bar Ḥanina links David’s cutting of Saul’s robe as a disregard of modesty, of treating “clothing with contempt.” This act, although meant to spare Saul’s life, is still in some way an affront to Saul’s person. And David is punished for this, because according to bar Ḥanina, this incident in which David compromised the integrity of Saul’s clothes is the reason that clothing could not keep David warm in his old age (1 Kings 1:1). [Tractate Berakhot, 62b:10]. Saint Augustine of Hippo also is interested in the apparent sin of damaging Saul’s clothing, but with two differences; first, he is very much interested in David’s seemingly immediate regret and repentance for this action. Secondly, Augustine is careful to note David’s acknowledgment of Saul as God's Anointed;  “David quaked with fear that perhaps merely by so touching Saul’s garments he was guilty of sacrilege,” so intense was David’s reverence for the office of Messiah. Augustine’s point isn't so much about the dignity of Saul, who he viewed as “reprobate and rejected,” but the dignity inherent in God’s calling to such an office, a position that must be respected regardless of the personal qualities of the individual who currently holds it. [City of God, Book 17, Chapter 6]. Saint John Chrysostom, meanwhile, focuses purely on the positive quality of David’s act in this story: “David obtained more glory by sparing Saul than by killing Goliath,” is how Jacobus Tirinus describes the general message of Chrysostom’s Second Homily on David and Saul. In Chrysostom's own words, “It was, in fact, a more conspicuous victory than the former one [... because]  the victory was achieved without weapons, and the trophy was erected without blood being spilt.” In this way, John took a position quite similar to Gregory of Nyssa, who lauded David because “when he held the bare sword in his palm, and the body of his enemy lay under his hand, he had the power to kill him, but he conquered his anger with reason, and his power to strike the blow with the fear of God. [...] he bec[a]me superior to his own anger[.]” [On the Inscriptions of the Psalms] Saint Jerome also focuses on David's positive qualities, but does so through an allegorical lens; David is now the Christ figure, suffering persecution in the world, represented by the cave. Saul is likened to the devil, who “does not discharge any good into this world, but only dung and corruption.” David, usually the warrior, acts more like the meek and humble Christ in his overcoming of his enemy in this story. [Fifty-Second Homily on the Psalms]. So, we have an interpretation about respecting the basic needs of even our enemies, an exhortation to respect sacred positions even when they are held by condemnable figures, an exaltation of nonviolence and self-discipline over wrath, and a prefiguring of the Gospel. All from a pericope about David refusing to kill Saul while Saul was pooping.

[keshetchai]

Nope, doesn't have to be fresh water (and yes to the edit lol).

What I'm citing —

The Mishnah says:

All seas are equivalent to a mikveh, for it is said, "And the gathering (ulemikveh) of the waters He called the seas" (Genesis 1:10), the words of Rabbi Meir. Rabbi Judah says: only the Great Sea is equivalent to a mikveh, for it says "seas" only because there are in it many kinds of seas. Rabbi Yose says: all seas afford cleanness when running, and yet they are unfit for zavim and metzoraim and for the preparation of the hatat waters.

Mishnah Mikvaot 5.4 discussed further in the Talmud Shabbat 109a.9-10. "...Rabbi Yosei says: All seas purify like a ritual bath. They actually purify even more than a ritual bath, as they purify even when they are flowing. Immersion in a sea is purifying not only when its waters are still, but even when they are flowing. That is not the case with a ritual bath, whose waters only purify when still."

See also:

My Jewish Learning: Can I Use The Ocean as a Mikvah?

Mikvah.org.

Shark lives in a mikvah so that's not the issue.

But I do think "having intelligence," vs "being able to communicate consent," are two different things which is why I think that would be the problem with an intelligent shark.

in the purely hypothetical sense that if a shark gained human sentience and intelligence of someone over 20 years old, and wanted to convert to judaism, would it be allowed ? like, it’s basically a human but a shark and it cant like verbally communicate but it probably could right

[punchyfeeley]

TALMUD DICK MEASURING CONTEST?!?!

“The Gemara continues discussing the

bodies of these Sages: Rabbi Yohanan

said: The organ of Rabbi Yishmael,

son of Rabbi Yosei, was the size of a

jug of nine kav. Rav Pappa said: The

organ of Rabbi Yohanan was the size

of a jug of five kav, and some say it

was the size of a jug of three kav. Rav

Pappa himself had a belly like the

baskets (dikurei] made in Harpanya.”

- Bava Metzia 84:a 6

[dafyomilimerick]

Bava Kamma 109

If a man robbed his dad, who then died, And there's no other heirs on the side. Rabbi Yosei haGelili Says, "In such a case, really, He can cancel  all debts that applied.

[animatedamerican]

So in Jewish tradition, there’s a story we often tell children about Shabbat. It originates in the Talmud [Shabbat 119b]:

Rabbi Yosei bar Yehuda says: Two ministering angels accompany a person on Shabbat evening from the synagogue to his home, one good and one bad. And when he reaches his home, if he finds the candles lit and the table set and his bed made [i.e., he finds the house prepared to honor the Shabbat], the good angel says: May it be Your will that it shall be like this for another Shabbat. And the bad angel answers against his will: Amen. And if not, the bad angel says: May it be Your will that it shall be so for another Shabbat, and the good angel answers against his will: Amen.

Now, there’s a lot to say about this story -- what does it mean, for instance, for there to be a “bad angel” who is nonetheless doing exactly what they’re supposed to be doing, every week? I’ve seen this phrase rendered as an “evil angel” or “wicked angel”, which doesn’t make any more sense. I’ve also heard it said that it would be better rendered as an “angel of badness”, i.e., an angel whose job it is to monitor and confirm people’s failures at doing good, partnered with another angel whose job it is to monitor and confirm people’s successes.

Personally, my favorite interpretation of this story is that it’s about how behavior is habit-forming, and how every time you choose to fulfill a mitzvah (or not to), you make it that much likelier that you will do it again (or not) -- just as though an angel had said may it be so again next time, and another had said amen.

But more importantly at the moment, I think, and I’m sure I hardly need to even say this:

Jumblr Good Omens fandom, have at.

[aaronsmithtumbler]

Rabbi Yosei ben Taddai of Tiberias said:  My daughter is forbidden to me, but her mother [my wife] is permitted to me. If the daughter of someone who is permitted to me is not permitted to me, then all the more reason why the daughter of someone who is not permitted to me should not be permitted to me. Now, most mothers are married and are forbidden to me.  If they are forbidden to me, then so are their daughters.  Therefore all marriages are forbidden.

Rabban Gamliel excommunicated him [for discrediting rabbinical methods of argument]. 

[source]