An Aggadah on Boundaries and Flight
I. The Story and Its Questions
The Talmud in Tractate Menachot (44a), in the context of a discussion about the mitzvah of tzitzit, presents a remarkable aggadah. Rabbi Natan teaches that every mitzvah carries its reward alongside it. As proof, he offers the following story.
There was a man who was scrupulous in the mitzvah of tzitzit. He heard of a certain prostitute in the cities of the sea whose fee was four hundred gold coins. He sent her four hundred gold coins and fixed a time with her. When the appointed time arrived, he came and sat at her door. Her maidservant entered and told her: that man who sent you four hundred gold coins has arrived and is sitting at the door. She said: let him enter.
She had prepared for him seven beds — six of silver and one of gold — with a silver ladder between each one, and the uppermost ladder of gold. She ascended and sat on the topmost bed, unclothed. He too ascended to sit opposite her, unclothed. At that moment his four tzitzit came and struck him across the face. He slid himself down and sat on the ground. She too slid down and sat on the ground.
She said to him: (I swear on) גפה של רומי — I will not release you until you tell me what blemish you saw in me.
He said to her: (I swear) By the Temple service, I have never seen a woman as beautiful as you. But there is one mitzvah that the Lord our God commanded us, and tzitzit is its name. It is written regarding it: I am the Lord your God — twice. I am the Lord your God who will exact punishment. I am the Lord your God who will give reward. At that moment they appeared before me as four witnesses.
She said to him: I will not release you until you tell me your name, the name of your city, and the name of your teacher and your beit midrash where you study Torah. He wrote these for her and placed them in her hand.
She then arose and divided all her wealth into three parts — one third to the kingdom, one third to the poor, and one third she kept for herself. Except for the bedsheets which she took along to present. She came and stood at the beit midrash of Rabbi Achiya (Alt. R' Meir). She said to him: Master, convert me. He said to her: Perhaps you have set your eyes on one of the students? She produced the note in her hand. He said to her: Go, claim your acquisition. Those very bedsheets that she had spread for him in prohibition, she spread for him in permission.
This, concludes the Talmud, is the reward in this world. The reward of the world to come — no one can calculate.
Many elements in the story demand further investigation. First, what is the definition of גפה של רומי? And why is it important at all to preserve the precise language of her swearing? The Gemara makes a point of mentioning her nakedness, and his desire to join her nakedly. This emphasis is odd. Third, the scene of seven beds and seven ladders screams symbolism. The Gemara emphasizes that he slid himself down to the ground. What is the intent with this detail? And then she slid down to the ground beside him — why is that detail necessary? When she decides to convert, she brings along her bedsheets. What does this act symbolize?
II. The Oath: גפה של רומי
Let us begin with the oath. Rashi (Menachot 44a) offers two readings of גפה של רומי. In his first reading, she is swearing by the life of the king, the sovereign ruler of Rome. In his second reading, it is a reference to Roman idolatry, a Roman deity. Rashi does not provide an etymology for either reading. He is interpreting from context — this is an oath, she is Roman, therefore she invokes Rome's highest authority, whether political or divine.
Beyond Rashi, two interpretations present themselves based on the word גפה itself.
The first reading: גפה means wing. In this reading she is swearing by the wing of Rome — which is to say, by the Roman eagle. The eagle was Rome's supreme symbol, the emblem of imperial power, conquest, and dominion.
The second reading follows Jastrow, who renders גפה as wall or enclosure. In this reading she is swearing by Rome's walls — and here a specific and resonant historical referent presents itself. The pomerium was Rome's sacred boundary, the ritual line that defined where Rome began and ended. It was not merely a defensive wall but a consecrated threshold, protected by divine law. To swear by the pomerium was to invoke Rome's most sacred boundary.
Both readings are plausible. But before we develop either, a prior question demands attention: why did the Talmud preserve this oath at all? The story could have been told without it. She could simply have demanded an explanation. Instead the Talmud freezes the moment and records her precise words. Something in this oath is essential to the story's meaning.
III. The Seven Defenses
To understand what this oath is doing in the story, we must first step back to the gemara that precedes it. Just before this story, the Talmud records a teaching about the power of tzitzit to protect a person from sin. The protection is quantified: a person surrounded by mitzvot has seven layers of defense. Two tefillin — one on the head, one on the arm. Four tzitzit — one on each corner of the garment. And a mezuzah on the doorpost.
These seven are not simply a list. They are a structure. The mezuzah guards the threshold of the home — the outermost boundary, the boundary of one's dwelling place. The tefillin shel rosh sits on the head, a visible external symbol of identity and devotion, worn publicly. The tefillin shel yad is bound to the arm, turned inward toward the heart, more personal, less visible. The tzitzit are the garment itself — not an ornament but a covering, the immediate layer between the person and the world. Seven layers. Each one is more intimate than the last.
The Talmud illustrates what happens when all seven are gone. King David found himself in a bathhouse, stripped of every one of these protections. He wept. Without his mezuzah, without his tefillin, without his tzitzit, he felt utterly exposed and vulnerable to sin. Then he remembered — and was consoled. Beneath all seven layers lay something that could never be removed. The brit. The covenant inscribed on the body itself. Even in the bathhouse, even naked, the innermost seal remained.
IV. The Paradox of the כנף
The mitzvah of tzitzit commands us to tie the fringes on the כנף — the corner of the garment. In this immediate context the word refers to the corner, the edge. But כנף carries a broader meaning as well. It refers to the garment itself, as we find in Devarim (22:30): לא יגלה כנף אביו — he shall not uncover his father's כנף. A garment, a כנף, is something that covers you, provides privacy, protects from the elements, and encloses the body as a personal domain. It is the boundary between you and the world.
The word כנף has a second definition in Hebrew entirely. It also means wing — כנפי נשרים, the wings of eagles (Shemot 19:4).
At first glance these two meanings seem unrelated. More than unrelated — they seem to describe opposing phenomena. A garment is a boundary, a limit, an enclosure. A wing evokes limitless freedom, the capacity to soar beyond all constraint. But a deeper look reveals that these are not opposing phenomena. They are two aspects of the same mechanism.
When someone is unclothed, he is exposed and cannot go out. Cold air is too harsh for bare skin. The naked body invites the intrusive gaze of others. It is precisely the restrictive garment — the boundary, the enclosure — that enables a person to leave his immediate environment and move through the world. The garment does not limit the range of motion. It is what makes the range of motion possible.
This principle applies in the moral and spiritual realm as well. One might perceive a life governed by discipline and rules as overly restrictive. But it is precisely boundaries that offer freedom. When a person is ruled by desire and hedonism, he is enslaved — to his base instincts, to impulsivity, to the demands of immediacy. He cannot delay, cannot plan, cannot transcend the moment he is in. Disciplined boundaries, by contrast, create the conditions for genuine freedom: delayed gratification, long-term stability, the capacity to build something that outlasts the appetite of the moment.
This is encoded in the mitzvah of tzitzit. A protective garment with ties and knots at the corner — at the כנף. A garment designed to shield, to create a boundary before sin. That same כנף, that same boundary, is also a wing — to enable one to soar to great spiritual heights. The restriction and the flight are one.
V. Rome's Mirror: The Pomerium and the Eagle
The pomerium of Rome operates in the same manner. One can be a barbarian conqueror, a nomadic warrior like the Huns. But that does not build empires. A person who lives everywhere lives nowhere. It is precisely the pomerium — the sacred boundary of Rome — that enabled the Roman eagle to conquer and rule the world. The boundary was not the opposite of expansion. It was its precondition. Thus the pomerium and the eagle's wings are also one.
Where the mitzvah of tzitzit operates in the moral and spiritual sphere, Rome mirrors it in the sphere of territorial conquest and rule.
VI. The Ascent: Unwinding the Seven Defenses
With this parallel in view, we can now return to the room where the man sits at her door.
He has traveled far from home — far from the spiritual boundary of the mezuzah on his doorpost. Presumably he has removed his tefillin shel rosh, then his tefillin from his arm. These cannot be present in vulgar settings. As he enters the room, the seven beds are symbolic of the seven boundaries he sheds. Atop the final bed she sits, naked — no boundaries at all. He wants to join her in that nakedness. To remove all seven boundaries, and then commit a bodily sin with his brit, the covenant engraved in his flesh.
As he reaches the final bed, ready to shed his last boundary — the tzitzit that bind him — the fringes strike him across the face. He immediately slides down to the ground, away from the shedding of his boundaries.
VII. The Slide: Entering the World of Boundaries
This restrictive discipline is perceived by the woman as incredible power. To be able to reject a most beautiful woman in such a seductive setting is a freedom and power that few possess. Recognizing the power of boundaries, she slides down to the ground beside him — into the world of boundaries he has returned to.
She exclaims: גפה של רומי! Both the walls and wings of Rome! What gives Rome its power are its boundaries — physical, territorial power. What flaw have you seen in me that triggered your boundary activation?
He answers: it is not you at all. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. But the mitzvah of tzitzit contains two mentions of אני ה' אלקיכם — I am the Lord your God. One is for reward and the other is for punishment. In our reading, this alludes to the restrictive boundaries and the resultant freedom. Precisely what you perceive in גפה של רומי regarding territorial power is what occurs in my world in a moral and spiritual sense.
VIII. The Linguistic Thread: בגפו as בכנפיו
Remarkably, Rashi on Shemot 21:3 — on the verse אם בגפו יבוא בגפו יצא — explains that the word בגפו means בכנפיו, with only his garment. Here we have the same word that can mean wall and wing serving as a direct translation of כנף — garment and wing. Rome's physical walls are paralleled by the sacred boundary of the tzitzit garment.
IX. The Bedsheets
This display of moral restraint inspires the woman to seek the same. She travels to the Beit Midrash, taking nothing but the bedsheets she had prepared for the man. Specifically bedsheets, because they are garments. She wants boundaries.
She stands before Rabbi Achiya. "Master, convert me." He hesitates: "Perhaps you have set your eyes on one of the students?" She produces the note in her hand — the man's name, his city, his teacher, his beit midrash. "Go," he says, "claim your acquisition." Those very bedsheets that she had spread for him in prohibition, she spread for him in permission.
The man's reward is the woman herself, converted and married. The boundaries that once restrained him have become his access — to her, to a life built within the כנף.
Conversion is described in Ruth (2:12) as coming לַחֲסוֹת תַּחַת־כְּנָפָיו — to shelter under His wings. Under His כנף.
Postscript: A Note on the Oath's Possible Origins
In exploring the enigmatic phrase גפה של רומי, I focused on its resonances with "wing" (eagle of Rome) and "wall/enclosure" (pomerium), drawing from Jastrow and symbolic parallels. A prominent scholarly alternative comes from Saul Lieberman (Greek in Jewish Palestine, 1942), who argues it derives from Greek ἀγάπη (agape, "love"), corrupted over time into גפה. He identifies this "agape of Rome" as an oath by Isis (the Egyptian-Roman goddess of love, magic, and beauty, often called Agape in syncretic worship and widely revered in the Roman East, including Palestine).
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