Showing posts with label Discrimination. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Discrimination. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 27, 2021

Linguistic Diversity Cohesion and Power

The 3 year old girl pointed at the fire truck. “Fie-er lesher, Fie-er lesher” she shouted excitedly in yiddish. 


The little girl was my mother. She had recently arrived in San Francisco from Shanghai, where she was born to yiddish speaking parents who narrowly escaped the Nazis in World War 2.  


“She should not speak in yiddish! She must speak English” her parents were told angrily!


It is wrong to prevent migrants from speaking their native languages. I believe this, despite my view that migrants must learn the language of their new country (if they can, some people find it quite difficult). It is hard for people to be united or even really get along if they can’t talk to each other. In fact, the first time the Torah mentions linguistic diversity is in the story of the Tower of Babel. We are told that people speaking one language makes their society strong, but if they speak different languages it will weaken them (1). However, being able to communicate in the language of one’s new country can be achieved without restraining migrants from speaking their native languages. 


This approach is not without risks. The easiest way to learn a language is to practice it and be immersed in it. There are parts of Australia that have high concentrations of people who speak languages other than English. In these areas, migrants can get by without properly learning the language of the land. Research has shown that being surrounded by signs in foreign languages caused significant discomfort to older Anglo-saxon residents in one of these areas (2). These risks should be addressed and mitigated rather than going to the extreme and trying to stamp out other languages from our shared spaces. 


Preserving native languages is important for two reasons:  one is self-expression and the other is power. 


Educator Ronit Baras introduced me to the idea of “language of the heart”. As I understand it, the language we speak as children enables us to express ourselves most effectively, especially when trying to articulate what is in our hearts. Languages learned later operate on a more technical level. We can express what we think effectively in a second language, but it can be hard to express how we feel. Assuming that this is true for many migrants, it would be a terrible imposition to restrict them from using their own language most of the time. 


The second argument relates to power. Because our ability to express our feelings is impeded when we are forced to use a second language, we are therefore not as powerful in negotiating everyday situations when speaking that language. I noticed that intuitively as a teenager when dealing with a particularly harsh teacher (who died from COVID last year). This teacher had a sharp tongue and could pack a powerful verbal punch in his native Yiddish, which was my first language. To change the power dynamic between us, I always addressed him in English rather than in Yiddish. It really threw him. The best he could do when I told him I thought I was  a nice guy was to tell me in a thick accent “you not, nice guy, you nice garbage”. That is a bit harsh, but nothing compared to what he could deliver in Yiddish! 

 

The relationship between power and language can explain a peculiar phrase in the story of Esther. The context is a king wishing to subdue women under the control of men. The royal edict stated that every man will be a ruler in his home, and [in the case where husband and wife speak different languages, the husband and therefore his wife] will speak in the language of his [the husband’s] nation (3). There we have it, suppression of linguistic diversity to serve male domination, with the loss of the right to speak one’s native language is clearly linked to a loss of power.  


The Torah urges us not to mistreat the stranger (4). Allowing them to speak in their native language is one way to adhere to this commandment. 


Notes

  1. Genesis 11:6-9

  2. Wise, A, (2004) Contact Zones: Experiences of cultural diversity and rapid neighbourhood change among Anglo-Celtic and long term elderly residents in Ashfield. Centre for Research on Social Inclusion, Macquarie University

  3. Esther 1:22

  4. Leviticus 19:33


 

Friday, July 19, 2019

Turning Between Co-religionists and Others - Reflections on my participation in a Muslim schools conference Balak 2019


A bearded Muslim man, Dylan Chown, was talking to a woman with a face-veil. He paused his conversation with her and turned to greet me warmly.  Dylan then turned back to her and apologised, with real feeling in his voice:  I am sorry that I was rude to you”. These brief interactions occurred as participants were arriving to the Australian Islamic Schooling Conference. I observed the exchange and thought: this is what Muslims call “Adab”. I had learned at the conference, that Adab was something more than mere manners. Adab might be described as a set of religious, respectful and sensitive practices. The two  ‘turnings’ (towards me and back towards her) can also be used as a metaphor for the challenge of balancing attending to the priorities of our faith communities, while also relating to people outside those communities.   

Afeefa Syeed, the founder of Al Fatih, a Muslim school in the American state of Virginia, spoke about an example of how her students expressed solidarity with oppressed fellow Muslims. They visited George Washington’s cemetery at Mt Vernon, as part of their study of History. They had learned that some of the “slaves” (or, perhaps more appropriately, enslaved people (1)) had been Muslims. They asked to be directed to where those slaves were buried. This request was met with surprise: “why would anyone be interested in seeing that?” The graves were neglected, but the students said a prayer there (2).

This anecdote touched me. Alongside our concerns for humanity, there is a need, and great virtue in solidarity with one’s own community, be that a community based on faith or place. One of the Torah’s villains, the evil prophet and sorcerer Balaam, is described as being “without a nation” (3). Furthermore, this absence of national or communal ties is deemed to be indicative of exclusion from heaven (4).

At the conference an Imam, an Australian Muslim school principal, a Catholic educator (5) and I conducted a breakout session together.  One activity involved exploring quotes from Islamic and Jewish sources with similar messages. One set of these quotes was the following pair:

……..and to parents do good, and to relatives, orphans, the needy, the near neighbor, the neighbor farther away, the companion at your side, the traveler, and those whom your right hands possess. (6)

...if a poor person and a rich person come to borrow money, the poor person takes precedence. ...If it is between one of the poor of your city and one of the poor of another city, the poor of your city takes precedence. (7)

In a similar vein, we heard how the Al Fatih students showed care for their non-Muslim neighbours by adopting and cleaning the road near their school for the benefit of all the locals and passing travellers. 

I told the conference that navigating my ties to my Jewish community and others has challenged me. I cited the verse: “You shall not mistreat, nor oppress the stranger, as you were strangers in [Pharaoh’s] Egypt” (8). As a younger man, I was good at embracing the second half of the verse, with my acute awareness of millenia of persecution of the Jews, including my own grandparents. It was only later in life that I engaged more strongly with the first and main point relating to the treatment of “strangers”. Justice for members of minority groups requires proper conduct not just in deed but even in word and thought.  Indeed the story of Balaam’s curses (9) is a dramatic example of how words, spoken or prevented from being said, matter.

Speaking positive words and thinking kind thoughts about “Strangers” can be difficult when there is conflict them and one’s own community. Afeefa shared an inspiring example of how her students engaged with people who appeared hostile. During the US presidential election many of her students felt concerned about how Muslims were being talked about by Trump. The students were encouraged to seek to understand, rather than demonise Trump supporters. They approached voters on election day, and asked them who they voted for and why. They heard from people who had lost their jobs and experienced other hardships, voting out of pain, not hate.

We were asked at the conference if in the work of Together For Humanity we talk about differences, or just the similarities. I explained that we certainly discuss both. To do otherwise would be dishonest and ultimately not helpful to building trust between communities.

Juggling similarities and differences is key to our work, and was also part of my preparation of the quotes for the conference. I was aware of the Islamic teaching that “...if anyone slew a person - unless it be for murder or for spreading mischief in the land - it would be as if he slew the whole people. And if anyone saved a life, it would be as if he saved the life of the whole people” (10). There is a Jewish quote that is very similar, but with one significant difference. It compares the saving of a Jewish life to saving the world (11). Fortunately, I was able to find authoritative sources for universal versions of the same teaching, that equated saving any life with saving humanity (12).

There was yet another hurdle for me with these two quotes. One of the Imams I consulted about these quotes pointed out to me that the full verse includes a critique of some Jews failing to fully embrace this teaching. The full verse in the Quran has an additional statement at the beginning and the end, it states: “We ordained for the children of Israel, that if anyone slew a person ...Our messengers came to them with clear signs, but many of them continued to commit excesses in the land”. The Imam pointed out that it was not a comment about all Jews but some.

Notwithstanding the challenges along the way, seeing the quotes side by side was heart-warming for participants in our session, as they could see evidence of common values in our two traditions. This commonality and the goodwill between me and conference participants does not cancel out the differences between faiths and nations, or the many challenges. Sometimes we will upset people in our own communities or people outside them. We cannot be 100% focused on both at the same time. On those occasions we will apologize like Mr Chown did, but we will persevere with doing the right thing by both. Indeed, we must. 

Notes:

1)       Khaldoun Hajaj, in a facebook post on 15.07.2019 challenged my comment about these human being “slaves”. He wrote “my contention concerns the use of the word Slaves. No one is a slave ... some of us are enslaved”.
3)       Talmud Sanhedrin 105a. It is a play on words, with the name בלעם (Bilam or Baalam) linked to being בלא עם (Blo- Am, without a nation)
4)       The Maharal, cited in Valdman, C. Y. in his commentary  Yosif Chayim on Ein Yaakov Hamevuar, pub. Machon Torah Mitziyon, Manchester, p. 446
5)       The Imam was Farhan Khalil, the Principal was Samir Halbouni, also a board member of Together For Humanity Foundation, and the Catholic was Kate Xavier, Senior Education officer of Together For Humanity.
6)       The Quran 4:36.
7)       Talmud, Bava Metzia 71a.
8)       Exodus 22:20. 
9)       Numbers 22:2-24:25.
10)    The Quran 5:32.
11)    Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 37a.
12)    Jerusalem Talmud, Sanhedrin 4:1 (22a),  states: whoever destroys a single life is considered by Scripture to have destroyed the whole world, and whoever saves a single life is considered by Scripture to have saved the whole world. The context of this teaching is a warning to witnesses in capital cases to speak the truth. It is a reference to the murder of Abel by his brother Cain and how this murder destroyed not just one man but practically half of the future of mankind. This context supports the Jerusalem universal version.  There are several additional versions of this teaching that are universal, these include, Pirkei deRabbi Eliezer ch. 47, Eliyahu Rabbah 11, Yalkut Shimoni on Exodus 166, and manuscripts from Parma, Italy in the mid-13th century, and from Cesena, dating to about 1400. See http://talmud.faithweb.com/articles/schindler.html and https://mosaicmagazine.com/observation/history-ideas/2016/10/the-origins-of-the-precept-whoever-saves-a-life-saves-the-world/

Thursday, May 31, 2018

Cohen forbidden to marry a divorcee - Emor



The Torah forbids a Cohen, or a “priest” (1) to marry a divorcee (2). The explanation of this prohibition is that the role of the Cohen in worship requires him to be holy.  

This law disturbs me. I'm concerned that something negative is implied about divorced women. The assumption seems to be that, if a Cohen marries a divorcee, this would detract from his holiness. I will not “solve” this riddle in this blog. As a Jew, the discussion itself and questions, in general, have value irrespective of the answers.  

I posted a question about this issue on Facebook. More than 120 comments were posted in response. One Jewish woman asked why “no responsibility for the breakdown of a marriage is placed on the man”? And if there was an equivalent law about divorced men? A Muslim woman agreed. She wrote that “in many cultures ...we have this issue of the blame being on the woman too and divorce being such a taboo topic...that people are forced to stay together to not bring shame on the family”.

There are several approaches to explaining this law, written several centuries ago.

1. Blame: "...a woman, being divorced, will already show that a matter of disgrace was found in her, [so] it is not fitting that a Cohen should marry someone who was not fitting to be a wife [for her first husband], because he [the Cohen] is holy to his God” (3). The assumption is that “the husband did not divorce her out of the wickedness of his heart…” (4). So, it must be that the divorce was in response to a significant moral failure on her part (5).

This 14th and 15th century approach does not take into account the reality, we all know today, that divorce is often not the result of a woman’s shortcomings. Although circumstances were different at that time in terms of male dominance, Judaism has long recognised other valid grounds for divorce. One example given is “if she burned his cooking” (6). This trivial example makes the point that the specifics of the complaints couples have about each other, are unimportant. According to the Torah, the main reason for divorce is because there is hatred between the couple (7). Another valid reason given for divorce is if a wife finds her husband repulsive (8). Abuse and various other failings on the part of the husband are also grounds for divorce (9). Based on both factual and textual evidence, the blame approach is problematic.

2. Blemish: Another approach sees the marriage partner’s virginity as important for the Cohen. Just as the Torah forbids a Cohen with physical imperfections to serve in the temple, it seeks “perfection” in his spouse (10). Needless to say, this approach does not sit well with the modern reader, including the writer of this blog. Surely, a woman’s worth is determined by her personal qualities far more than her virginity! And a man’s “completeness” surely relates more to his own spiritual achievements and shortcomings than the qualities of “his woman”.  

There is also a textual problem with this approach. The Torah states that only the chief Cohen, the Cohen Gadol, is forbidden to marry a widow, but places no such requirement on an ordinary Cohen (11). Jewish law also allows a Cohen to marry a woman who engaged in sex, despite not being married (12).  Clearly, marrying a virgin is not a precondition to serving as a Cohen.

3. Bedroom thoughts: A third approach centres on thoughts during sexual intimacy. Jewish tradition strongly disapproves of a couple being physically intimate with each other while their thoughts are about other people or sexual partners (13). This concern is part of a broader insistence of a union of hearts and souls during intercourse (14). Jewish law recommends that sex is to be “with the desire of both partners and their joy” (15). Overall, the physical sexual experience is deemed worthy and positive if there is a corresponding strong and pure spiritual union.   
Concern is expressed that a divorced woman is at risk of thinking about her past partner during intimacy with her current partner. This concern does not take into account the degree of probability that this will occur. (16). This thinking is linked to the law forbidding the marriage between a divorcee and a Cohen, who is meant to strive for perfection17).

This explanation might be more plausible if it applied equally to a divorced male Cohen and his possible thoughts about a former partner. I also feel uncomfortable with this explanation because it suggests that only divorced partners have this type of thought; yet our tradition acknowledges that anyone might have their thoughts wander during sex to think about someone they “saw on the road” (18).

4. Perception: For me, a more palatable approach is to locate the problem not within the divorced woman, but in the assumed perceptions of the community (19). With this approach, there is concern that people might respect the Cohen less because his wife has been divorced. A similar explanation is used for not allowing a Cohen with a physical “blemish” to serve in the temple (20). In fact, based on the problem being one of perception, a dispensation is given in the following circumstances: if the community is familiar with a particular Cohen who is blind in one eye, their familiarity with this Cohen would permit him to perform the priestly blessings because they are unlikely to be distracted by his condition (21). If we apply this “perception” approach here, we eliminate any disparaging implications about divorcees and explain this law as a practical concession to flawed superficial human perspectives.

Regardless of the approach one takes, the burden of all this holiness falls on women rather than men. This imbalance is partly corrected by the prophet Malachi’s scathing critique (22) of male Cohanim (plural of Cohen) who opportunistically abandoned their first wives in favour of the perhaps more exotic, idol-worshipping women they encountered.

The prophet thunders thus:

And now, O priests, this charge is for you...The Torah of truth was in his mouth, And he turned many away from sin… But you have turned away from that course...And I, in turn, have made you despicable and vile in the eyes of all the people… and this second thing you have done, You cover the altar of the Lord with tears, weeping, and moaning... But you ask, “Because of what?” Because the Lord is a witness between you and the wife of your youth with whom you have broken faith, though she is your partner and covenanted spouse...let no one break faith with the wife of his youth. ...For I detest divorce—said the LORD,...do not act treacherously.

Perhaps more interesting than all the text is the lived experienced of a modern day Cohen, let’s call him Abe, who is married to a wonderful woman, who had been divorced prior to their marriage.

Abe told me that he and his now-wife “were faced with a moral dilemma: he could continue to remain unmarried in the new relationship, which would not impact on his standing as a Cohen; or he could remarry, thereby honouring the relationship and those closest to them who believed in the sanctity of marriage. If he proceeded to marry her, Abe faced losing Cohen privileges. He had particularly enjoyed blessing the community as a Cohen.  

After consultations with various Rabbis, they decided to remarry. Unable to do so through an Orthodox ceremony, they did so through Reform.

Nevertheless, Abe has continued to be an active member of the Orthodox Synagogue. Although he disobeyed the commandment not to marry a divorcee, he feels accepted and comfortable over there. Looking back, though, he clearly misses not being able to “bless the people of Israel with love” during the ”Blessing of the Priests” ceremony. At the same time, he feels grateful for his loving, married relationship and thriving, blended family.
  
Abe does not feel resentful. He accepts that the dignity of the office of the Cohen needs to be preserved, even though he personally has chosen to prioritise the dignity of his wife and family.   

Abe’s choice is not condoned by the law. Sadly, he is paying a price for his choice, and I am sure this was not easy for his wife, either. In the end, I am left with the question: why does it need to be so?  

Notes
1.   The word Cohen is often translated as a priest. A Cohen is a descendant of Aaron, the brother of Moses. In the times that the temple stood in Jerusalem, they had a key role in offering sacrifices. Today, the main role of the Cohen is to bless the community.
2.   Leviticus 21:7
3.   Ralbag (1288-1344, France) on Leviticus 21:7, כבר יורה היותה גרושה שנמצא בה דבר גנות ואין ראוי שיקח הכהן לאשה מי שלא היתה ראויה לאשה: כי קדוש הוא לאלהיו. ולזה אין ראוי שיקח אלו הנשים אשר הם בזה האופן מהגנות:  See Gittin 90b which would seem to support the Ralbag’s approach.
4.   Abarbanel (1437-1580) on Leviticus 21:7, he creatively suggests that the phrase “he is holy to his God” can be applied to the ex-husband, who (for some unexplained reason) is assumed to have been holy and motivated in his decision to divorce his wife by religious puritanism because of her immoral conduct.    
5.   This approach is influenced by the first scenario of divorce given in Deuteronomy 24:1-3. “1. When a man takes a wife and is intimate with her, and it happens that she does not find favor in his eyes because he discovers in her an unseemly [moral] matter, and he writes for her a bill of divorce and places it into her hand, and sends her away from his house, 2. And she leaves his house and goes and marries another man, 3. If the latter husband hates her and writes her a bill of divorce, and places it into her hand and sends her away from his house…”  See various opinions and interpretations in the Talmud Gittin 90a and 90b that emphasise the woman being at fault as being the reason for a divorce.
6.   Talmud Gittin 90a and 90b
7.   Beis Shmuel on Shulchan Aruch Even HaEzer 119:3, while the language is quite male-centric, the key principle is that strife between the couple is the primary factor in consideration whether divorce is appropriate.
9.   Maimonides Yad Hachazakah, Hilchos Ishut, 14:8
10.                     Zohar, Raya Mehemna, on Emor, p.89b and 90a, on the verse “and he, a virgin”.
11.                     Leviticus 21:7 and 21:14
12.                     Shulchan Aruch Even Ezer 6:8
13.                     Talmud Nedarim 20b, midrash Tanchuma Naso 7
14.                     http://ph.yhb.org.il/plus/14-02-13/
15.                     Maimonides, Yat Hachazaka, Deot, 5:4
16.                     Talmud Pesachim 112a and b, Talmud Moed Katan 23a, Tosafot starting with Ad.
17.                     Radvaz, in Taamei Hamitzvot, כבר ידעת כי המחשבה עיקר גדול בזיווג ואשה גרושה דעתה על אחריםSefer Hachinuch mitzva 272, and 273
18.                     Midrash Tanchuma, Naso 7b.
19.                     Sefer Hachinuch Mitzva?
20.                     Abarbanel on Emor,
21.                     Maimonides, Yad Hachazakah, book of Love, Laws of Prayers and Lifting the Hands 15:2, see Shulchan Aruch Orach Chayim 128.
22.                     Malachi 2

Saturday, May 20, 2017

Disgraced Cohen's Daughter's Punishment - Emor

As I am finalising my thoughts on this blog, my heart is full of inspiration from yesterday’s Inter-school Program, watching Christian, Jewish and Muslim students come together yesterday culminating in spontaneously making music together. In stark contrast to that, I consider enduring contradictions and divisions that challenge me and others. Experiences, narratives and texts can all alienate us from communities, both similar and different to ourselves.  In this post I explore one of these.

I have been thinking of one passage in the Torah that challenges me not to feel alienated from my own tradition. “The daughter of a Cohen/ priest who will profane herself through whoredom, her father she is desecrating, in fire, she should be burned (1). After thinking about it for a week, it seemed clear to me that there was nothing I could say that would reconcile this verse with contemporary mores. Over Shabbat (Friday night and Sunday) I was delighted to find a possible, at least partial, way through.

At the start of this discussion I make the following points: A) We need to look at how a religious text is applied today in the lived experience of the adherents of that faith rather than what the words are in the text. This is as true for non-Muslims looking at verses from the Koran as it is for those trying to make sense of Judaism.  B) It is useful to consider how traditions have been interpreted over time.

A Sydney Rabbi who told me that his sermon on the passage of the Cohen’s daughter, interpreted it along mystical lines. He said that it is by God’s design that this law does not apply today (as capital cases are no longer prosecuted since the destruction of the second temple two thousand years ago). Instead, he suggested that burning in fire represents passionate devotion to God to correct the sins of passion (2). Another contemporary approach to this matter took the form of a personal reflection on the responsibility of dads in  positions of religious leadership to be attentive to their children. The writer regrets that some of his religious study years earlier was at the expense of his family. Failure to properly guide children shames the father (3).   

Earlier traditions relating to this law make clear that we are dealing with adultery and a married woman (4). Furthermore, there are very strict laws applying to all cases of capital punishment. The perpetrator must have been warned by two witnesses immediately prior to the act which is then witnessed. This is a highly unlikely scenario. Traditions vary about how rare an event any capital punishment was when it was practiced at all, with one opinion that a Court that killed once every 70 years was a “murderous court”, and another view putting it as once every 7 years (5).

Despite the restrictions on actually putting a woman to death for this crime, the phrase itself raises concern for me. There are two aspects that bother me. One is the idea that a woman’s status is considered through the perspective of its impact on the honour of her male family members. The second is on the discrepancy between a misbehaving son and daughter (6).

Early traditional commentary is in line with a simple reading of the text: If he [her father] had been treated as holy (before), he will now be treated as mundane, (if he had been treated with) honor, now he will be treated with disgrace, as they will say cursed be the one who gave birth to this one, who raised this one” (7).

Fortunately this approach is not the only one. I take comfort from the approach of both of the early authoritative translations into Aramaic, neither of which mentions the father’s shame (8). One (9) subtly re frames it as “from the holiness of her father she becomes desecrated”. The meaning of the translation is that she is desecrating herself, and profaning “the holiness that she has as a heritage from her father”. As the daughter of a Cohen/priest she inherited social- spiritual capital that has now been lost (10). It is not about her father but about her.

The discrepancy between a daughter and a son can be considered from a historical and contextual perspective that suggests that the verse is a response to the practice of the “sacred prostitute”. It is argued that the daughters of idol worshipers’ priests would act as prostitutes at their places of worship (11). Evidence is found in a  phrase in the book of Hosea: “they sacrifice with the prostitutes” (12). If we accept this argument then it is reasonable that the warning is directed to females based on the historical-actual problem the passage is seeking to address. While this explanation is attractive to me, I have not yet found any earlier authoritative commentary linking this ancient practice and this verse.

I am conflicted about how to approach these types of texts. I can join my colleagues who try to make it ok. As demonstrated above, there are some plausible approaches to do that, at least partially. I can also simply put them out there for further reflection and study. When my own daughter was born we  chose a biblical name, Shifra, that was not identified as being the wife, daughter or mother of any important man because we want our daughter to know she matters for who she is and who she will become, including but certainly not limited to her roles as a mother, wife or daughter. I take comfort in this view being consistent with some of my traditions about this difficult verse. The discrepancy between the treatment of males and females, however is acknowledged as a matter of concern.

Notes and Sources

  1. Leviticus 21:9
  2. Conversation at Lag B’Omer event at Bondi with Rabbi Y. 14.05.2017 based on Chasidic sources
  3. Buchwald, Rabbi E, Lessons from a Cohen’s Wanton Daughter, https://njop.org/emor-5772-2012/. He wrote….As one who completed the study of an entire cycle of the Talmud about twenty-five years ago, I know how enriching the experience can be… but looking back, it was inevitable that devoting so much time to the study of Torah came, at least in part, at the expense of the family, especially during the children’s critical nurturing years..
  4. Talmud Sanhedrin 50b
  5. Mishnah, Makkot 1:10
  6. Abarbanel, commentary on Emor question 5, p.225
  7. Talmud Sanhedrin 52a
  8. Targum Yonatan Ben Uziel, sees the reference to the father as a clarification of a matter of law, that she had gotten married through Erusin, but lived in her father’s house
  9. Unkelus/Onkelus, who lived around c. 35–120 CE, although the Talmud Megillah 3a suggests that this translation is was based on the teachings of the great Tanaaim Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yehoshua, or even earlier but forgotten by the masses, and rerecorded by Unkelus,
  10. Meshech Chochma, Meir Simcha of Dvinsk, 1843-1926
  11. Daat Mikra on Leviticus 21:9, Mosad Harav Kook,
  12. Hosea 4:14