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tag: קלנדס Ḳalends Sorted Chronologically (old to new). Sort most recent first? A well-known midrash explaining the universality of the Kalends festival beginning after the Winter Solstice attributes this psalm to Adam haRishon, the primordial Adam, as they describe being knitted together within the Earth in Psalms 139:13-16. In the Roman calendar, the calends or kalends (Latin: kalendae) is the first day of every month. Named after Janus, the Roman god of beginnings, and derived from ianua, “door,” January began with the first crescent moon after the winter solstice, marking the natural beginning of the year. Marcus Terentius Varro, in his Res Rusticae (37 BCE) divided the agricultural year into eight parts. In the final part beginning on the winter solstice, no hard work was to be done outdoors. . . . Categories: Tags: Calends, Kalendes, קלנדס Ḳalends, מזמור Mizmor, Psalms 139, solstice, winter, זאת חנוכה Zot Ḥanukkah Contributor(s): Psalms 139 in Hebrew with an interpretive translation in English by Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi, z”l. . . . Categories: Tags: Calends, interpretive translation, Kalendes, קלנדס Ḳalends, מזמור Mizmor, Psalms 139, solstice, Winter Solstice Contributor(s): A sourcesheet shared by Dr. Devora Steinmetz to accompany a shiur on the Winter Solstice in Jewish thought. . . . One of many variants of this notorious work, the Sefer Toldot Yeshu is an irreverent retelling? a bitter deconstruction? a mocking parody? of the Christian narrative of the birth, life, and death of Jesus of Nazareth. Taking its general structure from the gospels, it coöpts and alters it to make the main character look like a petty, vindictive sorcerer, his disciples into either sectarian liars or loyal rabbinic plants, and his followers into easily duped fools. Toldot Yeshu was a very popular work in medieval times, and you can tell — this sort of a text was certainly written by someone whose primary relationship with Christians was fear. It’s the bitter invective of an oppressed people without power for themselves, the dirty laundry that two thousand years of murder leaves behind. It’s also, just, like unspeakably, hilariously crude. Have a garlicky Nittel, everyone! . . . | ||
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