Ki Tetze, Kilayim & Identity in Relationships

In this week’s parasha of Ki Tetze, there is a section that describes “kilayim” – things we are forbidden to combine together. This made me think about combinations of human beings – namely, relationships between one person and another. How much can one person “combine” with the other before losing one’s own identity; or maybe finding it?

  לֹא־תִזְרַ֥ע כַּרְמְךָ֖ כִּלְאָ֑יִם פֶּן־תִּקְדַּ֗שׁ הַֽמְלֵאָ֤ה הַזֶּ֙רַע֙ אֲשֶׁ֣ר תִּזְרָ֔ע וּתְבוּאַ֖ת הַכָּֽרֶם׃

Thou shalt not sow thy vineyard with two kinds of seed; lest the fullness of the seed which thou hast sown be forfeited together with the increase of the vineyard. (Deut. 22: 9).

 לֹֽא־תַחֲרֹ֥שׁ בְּשׁוֹר־וּבַחֲמֹ֖ר יַחְדָּֽו׃

Thou shalt not plow with an ox and a donkey together. (Deut. 22:10).

לֹ֤א תִלְבַּשׁ֙ שַֽׁעַטְנֵ֔ז צֶ֥מֶר וּפִשְׁתִּ֖ים יַחְדָּֽו׃  

Thou shalt not wear a mingled stuff, wool and linen together. (Deut 22:11).

To preserve and share who we are, we need to feel peacefully confident about knowing ourselves, even if it is a life-long exploration. Our relationships are defined by the identities of each person in the relationship dynamic. 

In any meaningful relationship, we need to first see ourselves as a giver. To best be that, we need to know our soul and what we bring to the relationships that we care about the most. This is before we can understand what we bring to the world at large. To position oneself to give, one must first organically create heart–centered opportunity to give, and then receive, and so forth. 

We also need to be a receiver, too and almost as much as a giver. If you know your strengths and weaknesses, you can receive and give often, and, eventually, you will do so habitually, without even trying and without needing to keep score as to who is giving more.

This give and take is what keeps the relationship in balance and creates a depth to it, when it is tied to ones expression of identity and particular needs. As humans, we can express our infinitude as reflections of Gd, through the beauty of so much giving and receiving in relationships. So, perhaps the more we give, the more we might find ourselves.

Now if, for example, a wife generally likes to cook in the household, but her husband wants to take on some cooking, because, for instance, he discovered a passion for chocolate-making, it can be beautiful to add in some chocolate to his wife’s Shabbat meals, such as for the dessert. He can make the chocolates with their children, if they desire to do this. This is without offending or overstepping his wife’s role. Both should feel free to express what they desire and should feel heard. His addition to the cooking accentuates both his identity and that of his wife.  

Our society has a tendency to prime us to want more and more without really appreciating enough what we have nor having the mental space to think inwardly and know how to be a giver.

Most desires, at their deep roots, stem from the desire to give in relationships, more than to receive. To give is the expression of one’s existence, and it reflects the constant movement of the universe. One must, however, also expect and desire to receive a lot in relationships because it brings a balancing element of acknowledgement and gratitude within the universe.

To change a bit but stay on topic: Why should an ox and donkey not plow together? The simple interpretation is because the ox moves faster than the donkey and so the donkey will suffer.  If one of the people in a relationship feels lesser, because they are sharing a task, it certainly makes it harder for them to be their best. 

As far as mixing types of seeds goes, the modern-day equivalent could be genetic modification of organisms. The Jewish law related to this is complex and not universally agreed upon, but from at least one major school of thought, they boil down to: as long as you know a pumpkin is a pumpkin, it’s probably okay. And, for example, maybe mixing “seeds” (or rather DNA) to get a peel that ripens differently serves to preserve and accentuate the flavor of the pumpkin and make it even more pumpkin-y.

What kind of modification would make it less pumpkin-y, though? Maybe taking a bioluminescence gene and putting it into a pumpkin so it glows in the dark. Pumpkins are not meant to do that. But who says that doesn’t make the pumpkin more pumpkin-y too? Depending if you like Halloween and think you can create your own version of Halloween that can preserve your Jewish identity? Clearly, there is some subjectivity here… 

Getting back to our parasha: why should linen not be mixed with wool? One traditional commentary says because one comes from plants and the other, an animal, but we also eat plants and animals together. Maybe instead, you could say because one fabric has cooling properties and the other has warming properties. In a relationship it is important to somewhat mirror the others emotions, it doesn’t need to be the same, but not the opposite that the other might feel a lack of connection. 

One of my favorite comments from the 12th century Rabbi Abraham Ibn Ezra (on Exodus 20:2) is that to study the nature of the universe elevates the study of Torah. 

לֹא־יִהְיֶ֤ה כְלִי־גֶ֙בֶר֙ עַל־אִשָּׁ֔ה וְלֹֽא־יִלְבַּ֥שׁ גֶּ֖בֶר שִׂמְלַ֣ת אִשָּׁ֑ה כִּ֧י תוֹעֲבַ֛ת יי אֱ-לֹקֳיךָ כׇּל־עֹ֥שֵׂי אֵֽלֶּה׃

“A woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman’s garment; for whosoever doeth these things is an abomination unto the LORD thy God” (Deut. 22:5).

If you look at the Torah at large, repeatedly, clothing is the most outward expression of one’s identity to the world, and, at times, it can also affect how one perceives one’s self. It enwraps your body and it can put you in a certain psychological state. Now, you can always decide what that psychological state is, as long as you are aware of the forces at play in your mind, such as cultural influences and norms. Clothes have a deeper effect on one’s identity, from the color, the texture, the style, and how those are combined together. If you decide, what you wear can change you as much as it expresses who you are and your relationships.

How do we define what is a woman’s clothing or a man’s clothing? Clothing when the Torah was written was totally different than today. Is a pair of warm socks, to take an example, in either category, or is it unisex? Or maybe it depends on who owns it? Is a man wearing a skirt absolutely out of the question? What about a kilt, but women can wear kilts too. When it comes to undergarments though, it’s pretty clear what’s designed for a man and what’s designed for a woman (but in the time of the Torah, those garments did not even exist as such, ironically…) Can we even define “man” and “woman” the same way they did then? On the other hand, maybe there is something beautiful about preserving traditional ideas of men and women, but it also depends on the context. 

So, how much can or should two people combine themselves? Perhaps, that amount is not an absolute, not even for a particular relationship between two people. Just like some of the examples we explored of combinations in the Torah, maybe it really depends on the exact situation and context and in the present moment. These elements themselves, though, are shaped by the individual’s capabilities and personal backgrounds, as well as societal influences, but most of all by those individuals’ desires. The amount that we can combine with another person or that we need to combine, therefore, depends very much on our self-awareness to the current needs in the now.

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