Ever wondered about the ancient Jewish take on marriage, virtue, and... concubines? It might surprise you. We're diving into a fascinating, and perhaps a bit scandalous, passage from the Midrash of Philo, a collection of interpretations and expansions on the Hebrew Bible attributed to the Jewish philosopher Philo of Alexandria.
This particular piece tackles the tricky subject of a virtuous man taking a concubine, even though he already has a wife. How could that possibly be seen as righteous? Well, Philo offers a rather nuanced perspective.
The text begins by addressing men "incontinent and lascivious," those who might abandon their wives for concubines driven by nothing but fleeting passion. Philo contrasts this with the man "endued with virtue," who remains devoted to his wife. But here’s the twist: this virtuous man might, at a time when it was permissible, also take his wife's handmaid as a concubine.
Why? According to Philo, the key is intent. The physical connection with the concubine is purely "for the sake of propagating children." But his relationship with his wife? That's something far deeper: "two souls joined together in harmony by heavenly affection." This "literal effect of the statement" gives us a glimpse into ancient attitudes toward marriage and procreation.
But like so many ancient texts, there's a deeper layer, a hidden meaning waiting to be uncovered. What about the "inner meaning?" Philo suggests that "he who has truly entrusted all his secret wishes to wisdom, and justice, and the other virtues... remains constant to it." Wisdom, in this case, is personified as a wife.
Think of it this way: once you've tasted the joy of "matrimonial connection" with wisdom, you remain faithful. But, and this is crucial, that doesn’t mean you should shun other forms of knowledge. "Encyclical education," meaning a well-rounded education, might "lead him in a beautiful course." Geometry, arithmetic, grammar, rhetoric – all these disciplines can be seen as enriching, yet secondary to the pursuit of virtue.
Philo uses a clever analogy: even if a virtuous man masters these sciences, he remains mindful of honesty, pursuing it as a "necessary aim," while treating education as "an accessory." He doesn't neglect his "wife," wisdom, for these other pursuits.
Now, here's where it gets even more interesting. Philo approves of calling the handmaid "wife," because the man only went to her bed at the "exhortation of his real wife, and not of his own genuine inclination." The text implies that the handmaid deserves the title of "wife" out of respect and acknowledgement for her role in fulfilling the societal expectation of procreation.
And for those who prefer allegory? Philo suggests that "the exercise of the middle disciplines also stands in the place of a concubine, having nevertheless the shape and ornaments of a wife." In other words, all the learning we acquire imitates and reflects true virtue. The pursuit of knowledge, like a concubine, can enhance and complement our core values, but it should never replace them.
So, what can we take away from this ancient text? It's a reminder that even in a world with different social norms, the pursuit of virtue and wisdom remains paramount. It challenges us to examine our own motivations and priorities. Are we pursuing fleeting passions, or are we striving for a deeper connection with what truly matters? The Midrash of Philo, through its intricate layers of meaning, invites us to consider what it means to live a virtuous life, balancing our desires with our devotion to wisdom and truth.