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Tamar Daughter of David Born Before the Law Could Name Her

Amnon claimed a right to marry Tamar. The rabbis traced his argument to when her mother converted and what that meant for children born before.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Claim That Should Not Have Been Possible
  2. What Conversion Does to Lineage
  3. What the Tradition Actually Rules
  4. Tamar After the House of Absalom

The Claim That Should Not Have Been Possible

Amnon was obsessed with Tamar in the way the text of Samuel makes unmistakable: he could not eat, he could not sleep, he grew visibly ill. His cousin Jonadab, sharp and unscrupulous, identified the source and offered a plan. Amnon feigned illness and asked his father David to send Tamar to cook for him.

What happened in that room is one of the most brutal scenes in the Hebrew Bible. Amnon assaulted Tamar, and then, the text records, he hated her with a hatred even greater than the love he had claimed. He threw her out. David was furious but did nothing. Absalom took his violated sister into his house and waited two years before he acted, and when he acted, he had Amnon killed.

But before any of that happened, Amnon had said something to Tamar in the room that the plain text of Samuel passes over without explanation. He told her there was a way to make this legitimate: ask the king. David might permit them to marry. Tamar, in her response, neither confirms nor denies the claim. She says only: "do not do this thing."

The tradition spent centuries asking what legal ground Amnon could possibly have been standing on.

What Conversion Does to Lineage

Jewish law traces lineage through the mother. A child's status, tribal membership, kinship categories, the range of permissible and forbidden marriages, follows the maternal line. And a woman who converts to Judaism does not carry her pre-conversion kinship relationships across the boundary of conversion. She is, in the legal formulation the tradition uses, as if newborn.

Tamar's mother, in the tradition preserved in Ginzberg's compilation, had converted to Judaism while already pregnant with Tamar. The conversion was complete. But Tamar herself had been conceived before it. The question that Tractate Yevamot in the Talmud Bavli wrestles with, the status of children born to a woman before her conversion, was not hypothetical. It was precisely the question that determined whether Amnon's claim had any standing at all.

Under certain readings of the law, a half-sibling born of a different mother, in a family where one of those mothers converted after giving birth, might not be subject to the full prohibitions governing sibling marriage within the Israelite covenant community. The kinship categories that made the relationship forbidden depended on a particular legal reality that, in Tamar's case, was genuinely ambiguous.

What the Tradition Actually Rules

The rabbis, examining this claim, in the end rejected it. Not on a technicality but on a principled reading: the prohibition on sibling relationships does not require the relationship to have been constituted under Israelite law from the moment of birth. The biological reality of the relationship, the shared father and the mutual recognition of kinship, was sufficient to bring the prohibition into force regardless of the timing of the mother's conversion.

Amnon's legal theory was, in the tradition's final analysis, a rationalization. He had identified a genuine ambiguity in the law and used it to construct permission for something the law did not actually permit. The tradition traces his reasoning precisely enough to refute it.

Tamar After the House of Absalom

Tamar lived in Absalom's house, desolate, the text says. The tradition holds her figure in careful attention, noting that her conduct before, during, and after the assault was exemplary by every standard. She had argued against Amnon's plan. She had proposed the legal alternative he offered, not because she wanted to marry him but because the delay might allow the situation to be defused without violence. When he refused to hear her, she did what she could.

The desolation at the end is not her judgment. It is a record of what was done to her, and what the structures around her failed to prevent.


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From the tradition

Sources

2 sources

The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Legends of the Jews 4:91Legends of the Jews

The stories we think we know sometimes have surprising twists, especially when we start digging into the details.

Let's it first appears of her as a direct descendant, deeply woven into the tradition of David's family. But here's a little wrinkle: Tamar was actually born before her mother converted to Judaism. Think about the implications for a moment. This detail, seemingly small, has a significant impact on how we understand her relationship with her half-brother, Amnon.

In Jewish law, lineage follows the mother. So, Tamar's status before her mother's conversion changes everything. Now, I'm not saying this diminishes the tragedy of what happened between Tamar and Amnon, which, as you may know, is a terrible story of betrayal and abuse. But it does mean their relationship wasn't considered as strictly incestuous as it would have been had Tamar been considered Jewish from birth. It’s a nuanced point, but important for understanding the legal and social context of the time.

This is the kind of thing you find when you dive into texts like Ginzberg's Legends of the Jews, which compiles so much of our ancient wisdom. It encourages us to look beyond the surface and consider the layers of meaning embedded within these narratives.

And speaking of David's household, imagine this: David also had a personal guard, a kind of royal vanguard, comprised of four hundred young squires. Can you picture them? These weren't just any soldiers. They were the sons of women captured in battle. Talk about a diverse background! And their appearance was deliberately intimidating. They kept their hair in "heathen fashion." What that exactly looked like, we can only imagine. But picture these young men, hair wild and untamed, riding in golden chariots, a dazzling and terrifying sight to behold on the battlefield.

It's easy to forget, reading about kings and prophets, that they lived in a world very different from our own. The practices, the laws, the very understanding of family and identity, were shaped by a specific historical and cultural context. Remembering details like Tamar's birth or the exotic appearance of David's squires helps us to truly connect with the human realities behind the legends.

So, what do we take away from this? Perhaps it's a reminder that history is never simple. That even the most familiar stories can hold unexpected complexities. And that by exploring these nuances, we gain a deeper appreciation for the richness and depth of our heritage. The more we delve, the more we find.

Full source
Bereshit Rabbah 85:8Bereshit Rabbah

The verse in question is from (Genesis 38:15): “Judah saw her and thought her to be a harlot, because she covered her face.” What's so significant about this seemingly simple observation?

Rabbi Ḥiyya bar Zavda offers a powerful warning: "A person must be very careful regarding his wife’s sister and his female relatives, that he not stumble with one of them." From whom do we derive this lesson? From Judah himself! "Judah saw her…" The implication is clear: be mindful of your interactions, particularly within your own family.

Why did Judah mistake Tamar for a harlot in the first place? It was "because she covered her face." Now, commentators like Yefe To’ar suggest that Tamar's veiled face was actually a sign of modesty, a virtue worthy of emulation. She had always kept her face covered in his house. Etz Yosef adds that because Judah was used to seeing Tamar modestly veiled, he didn't recognize her, and this unfamiliar sight led to his misjudgment.

Isn’t that a fascinating twist? Her attempt at modesty inadvertently led to a case of mistaken identity.

The story continues: "He turned to her by the road, and he said: Please, let me consort with you, for he did not know that she was his daughter-in-law. She said: What will you give me that you would consort with me?” (Genesis 38:16).

Another interpretation offered in Bereshit Rabbah paints a slightly different picture. "Judah saw her" – but perhaps, initially, "he did not pay attention to her." The text suggests that when she covered her face, he reasoned, "Were she a harlot, would she have covered her face?" Originally, seeing her from a distance, Judah assumed she was a harlot and intended to avoid her. But the veil changed his perception, leading him to believe she was not who he initially thought.

So, was it the covering of the face that caused the problem, or was it Judah's own assumptions and lack of attention?

Rabbi Yoḥanan offers a more mystical perspective. He says that Judah "sought to pass," to move on. But the Holy One, blessed be He, intervened, dispatching the angel responsible for desire. The angel challenges Judah: "Where are you going? From where will kings be produced, from where will the prominent ones be produced?"

"He turned to her by the road" – despite himself, against his will. It's as if a divine hand guided him, reminding him of his destiny, his role in the lineage of kings, a lineage that would ultimately lead to the Messiah. The passage suggests that even when we think we are acting on our own desires, there may be larger, unseen forces at play, shaping our path towards a greater purpose.

What are we to make of this complex and layered story? It's a reminder to be careful in our judgments, to look beyond appearances, and to be mindful of the potential consequences of our actions. But it's also a evidence of the idea that even in moments of weakness or misjudgment, divine providence can still guide us towards our ultimate destiny. The story of Judah and Tamar, as interpreted in Bereshit Rabbah, is a powerful exploration of human fallibility, divine intervention, and the enduring power of hope.

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