The Book of Genesis touches on this very question, and the Rabbis of the Midrash, never ones to shy away from a good debate, certainly had opinions.
Our story comes from Bereshit Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations of the Book of Genesis. The verse in question is Genesis 2:18: "I will make a helper for him alongside him." That phrase, "alongside him" – kenegdo in Hebrew – is where things get interesting.
Rabbi Yehoshua bar Nehemya suggests a fascinating duality. He says, if a man is worthy, his wife is a helper. But if he is not, she is against him – also kenegdo! Same word, opposite meaning. It all hinges on merit.
He goes on to illustrate this with two contrasting examples. If a man merits it, his wife will be like the wife of Rabbi Ḥanina bar Ḥakhinai, a paragon of virtue. But if not, he'll end up with someone more like the wife of Rabbi Yosei the HaGelili.
Now, Rabbi Yosei's wife… well, she was a piece of work. And, adding insult to injury, she was also his niece! According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, she was constantly humiliating him, even in front of his students. Can you imagine? "Get rid of her!" the students pleaded. "She has no respect for you!"
But Rabbi Yosei was stuck. "Her ketubah," he explained, referring to the marriage contract, "is too large! I can't afford to divorce her."
One day, Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya was visiting. Rabbi Yosei, ever the gracious host, invited him for a meal. Rabbi Yosei asked his wife if there was anything to eat. She sneered, "Just relish." But when Rabbi Yosei opened the pot, lo and behold, it was full of chicken!
Rabbi Elazar, a sharp cookie, immediately picked up on the tension. "Rabbi," he said after the meal, "didn't she say there was only relish? Yet there's chicken!" Rabbi Yosei lamely explained it away as a miracle. But Rabbi Elazar wasn't buying it. He pressed Rabbi Yosei to divorce his wife, offering to help pay off that hefty ketubah.
And so, they did. Rabbi Yosei remarried, this time to a woman who was a much better match. As for the first wife? Her sins, it's said, led her down a dark path. She ended up marrying the city watchman, and things went from bad to worse.
The watchman became ill and went blind. The former wife was forced to lead him around, begging for alms. And, as fate would have it, they ended up begging in Rabbi Yosei's neighborhood. She, filled with shame, tried to avoid his street. But the watchman, knowing Rabbi Yosei was a generous man, insisted.
One day, Rabbi Yosei noticed the commotion. He realized it was his ex-wife, trying to avoid him. Overhearing the watchman berating her for depriving him of charity, Rabbi Yosei took pity on them both. He provided them with a house and supported them for the rest of their days.
Why? Because, as it says in Isaiah 58:7, "Do not disregard your own flesh." Even after all the humiliation and hardship, Rabbi Yosei recognized a shared humanity, a connection that couldn't be severed.
So, what can we take away from this story? Is it simply a cautionary tale about choosing the right partner? Or is it something deeper? Perhaps it’s a reminder that even in the most difficult relationships, compassion and responsibility still have a place. Even when someone is kenegdo, against us, we are still called to recognize their humanity and act with kindness. It's a challenging thought, isn't it?