Originally posted March 4, 2007

It’s funny how, as wide spread as the printed word is, it’s often the oral traditions that persist most strongly. I’ve been going through my periodic rereading of the Tanakh. It’s been a few years since I read it beginning to end, so it’s not all quite fresh in my mind. For example, I had forgotten that the reason given for the confounding of speech is “If, as one people with one language for all, this is how they have begun to act, then nothing that they may propose to do will be out of their reach” (Genesis 11.6). No, I remembered the Sunday school version, that language was fractured because men were building the tower of Babel to reach heaven and G-d.

The version of the story I learned in childhood suggested that men were making a direct challenge to G-d, believing that they reached for his seat of power to be nearer to him, but in effect attempting to usurp him. It doesn’t contradict the version in Genesis, but it is a matter of interpretation.

In rereading the original (or at any rate, the earliest version available), the tower seems to me a decidedly earth-bound endeavor. The reason men give for building it is “Come, let us build us a city, and a tower with its top in the sky, to make a name for ourselves; else we shall be scattered all over the world” (Genesis 11.4). (There’s a bit of irony for you.) It sounds to me that though the top of the tower is meant to be in the sky, its purpose is earthly – to act as a beacon which men can find and return to from all corners of the earth. In that interpretation, the confounding of speech seems more like petulant jealousy than defense of the heavenly throne.

Of course, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with interpretations that stray from the earliest versions of stories – if I did, I should hardly publish a magazine of them. Interpretation can be a way of creating dialogue between past and present, of pursuing new layers of truth. But when interpretation becomes a basis for condemnation, there comes the problem.

I am thinking of the story of Tamar and Judah’s sons, commonly interpreted as a condemnation of masturbation. Here’s what actually happens, in the biblical version:

After the eldest son, to whom Tamar was first married, died, “Judah said to Onan, ‘Join with your brother’s wife and do your duty by her as a brother-in-law, and provide offspring for your brother.’ But Onan, knowing that the seed would not count as his, let it go to waste [literally, ‘spoil on the ground’] whenever he joined with his brother’s wife, so as not to provide offspring for his brother. What he did was displeasing to the Lord, and He took his life also.” (Genesis 38.8-10)

It should be fairly obvious that the transgression here has nothing to do with masturbation – Onan’s misdeed is his failure to do his duty as a brother.

Not that it’s any better when literal, rather than interpretive readings are used to justify condemning others, but we might at least be honest with ourselves about the sources of modern Western repression, no?

– Sari

April 12, 2009 | Leave a Comment  Tags: , , , , , ,

Originally posted February 11, 2007

Myths are full of battles between gods – the Olympians against the Titans, the younger Norse gods against the Giants. It is clear in such myths of generational battles that on both sides, the gods are gods.

In other myths, the Christians demonize Euro-pagan gods; the gods (deva) of Hinduism are the demons (daeva) of Zoroastrianism and the Zoroastrian gods (ahura) are Hindu demons (asura). Put simply: Demons are somebody else’s gods.

Of course, in those parts of the modern world dominated by monotheism, we no longer call other people’s gods demons – no, we call them figments. The logic that one god is plausible, but many are primitive foolishness is rather beyond my powers of reasoning. That I made a covenant with my god which precludes the worship of other gods doesn’t mean I have to insult other people or their gods by claiming they don’t exist.

– Sari