Having mastered the languages and literature of ancient Iran, Yishai Kiel reads Bavli texts in their Sasanian or Iranian setting, a growing corner of rabbinics research in recent years. Kiel's volume is a welcome addition. It neatly subdivides into two sections: part 1 presents close readings of rabbinic texts on sexuality in the context of Christian and Zoroastrian texts; part 2 focuses on the treatment of incest in rabbinic and Zoroastrian writings. The main thrust of the volume is to “put the nail in the coffin” of those who read the rabbis only internally, ignoring the culture of which they were a part. As Kiel states, a rabbinic text can be “significantly illuminated by its contextual reading against the backdrop of contemporaneous Zoroastrian practice and doctrine” (246).
Babylonian rabbis, Kiel says in part 1, viewed marital sex not just as a means for procreation but as a way to extinguish desire, which they regard as a demonic force. Zoroastrian texts, he then demonstrates, show the same split attitude, which probably means that the rabbis assimilated these “dichotomous” views from contact with their neighbors. Both sets of religious texts also display an ambivalence toward the phenomenon of married scholars leaving their wives for long periods of time to go away and study. True, there is criticism of this practice in the Bavli, Kiel notes, but also romanticization, as in the story of R. Akiba and his wife Rachel, whom he abandons for twenty-four years.
In his discussion of sex in the daytime, Kiel argues that although a rabbinic text in B. Niddah 17a frowns on the practice, requiring darkness for sex, the same passage then praises the members of the household of Monobaz of Adiabene, a convert to Judaism according to the Talmud, for engaging in sex in the daytime. To resolve this glaring discrepancy, the anonymous talmudic editor suggests that sex at night can be problematic. Kiel understands the discussion differently. In an innovative and insightful reading of the Monobaz text, he suggests that the Talmud chose to praise a former Zoroastrian for engaging in daytime sex in order to effectively undermine its own legislation that opposed such a practice. The reason for this shift is that the Talmud was responding to the Zoroastrian teaching that sex should ideally take place in the light of the sun or of a domestic fire.
The second part of the book, which is much tighter in its organization, is even more enlightening. Kiel shows that, in sharp contrast to Jewish teachings, the founding myths of Zoroastrianism strongly encourage incest between parents and children and between siblings. By keeping good qualities in the family, incest leads to purity of the “seed.” Zoroastrianism even goes so far as to consider incest to be a religious obligation. Kiel reads the Noahide laws in the light of these Zoroastrian teachings: as presented in the Talmud Yerushalmi, the Noahide laws ban incest for Jews and non-Jews alike; when the same laws are presented in the Babylonian Talmud, they ban incest among Jews but permit it among non-Jews. This change shows that Babylonian rabbis were not just responding to the Yerushalmi's teachings but to their own cultural context.
Kiel states, in a later chapter, that the Zoroastrian practice of confession of sin to a rad, a religious authority, could result in his prescribing penitential procedures, such as remorse, confession, monetary compensation (where relevant), or other punishments. The author recounts several stories from Persian literature in which these features appear. He then turns to the Bavli story about a woman who confessed to R. Ḥisda that her younger son was the result of an incestuous encounter with her older son (B. Avodah Zarah 17a). Although in Zoroastrianism incest is considered so meritorious that it cancels the most serious offenses, R. Ḥisda viewed incest in precisely the opposite way: it is so serious a sin that only death can atone for it. He therefore predicts the woman's demise. In this way, Kiel claims, R. Ḥisda resists the Zoroastrian teaching on the merit of incest.
A few quibbles with Kiel: I question the legitimacy of deriving a general view from just one or two rabbinic texts. I don't think that such a small number of passages necessarily represents rabbinic thinking on a topic. For example, Kiel cites one rabbinic statement that recommends engaging in sex while clothed and one that rejects such a practice. Can a person reasonably claim that these few statements show general rabbinic attitudes (either for or against)?
As Kiel himself writes, and as others have also noted, many of the Zoroastrian texts were modified and then redacted several centuries after the closure of the Talmud. If so, how correct are his contextual readings of the two literatures? His rather persuasive answer is that the later texts contain oral traditions produced in earlier periods. To accept any of Kiel's interpretations, one must accept this assertion.
Another minor critique is that Kiel uses certain phrases again and again in his chapter introductions, a habit that struck me as an attempt to employ jargon even when it is not needed or helpful. Some of these terms are “to map,” “to complicate,” “to negotiate,” and “to situate.” By using these phrases so often, he obfuscates rather than clarifies.
In sum, I think Kiel has taken the study of Irano-Judaica to new heights. Others have noted parallel phenomena in the two interwoven societies, which is always valuable, but parallels on their own do not deepen our understanding of rabbinic texts. Kiel does not stop at pointing out correspondences, but proceeds to interpret rabbinic texts in a more nuanced way by applying to them insights he gained from studying Zoroastrian texts. The outcome is that talmudic texts that previously seemed baffling in Kiel's analysis show a rational rabbinic response to the surrounding Iranian culture and religion.
