Our Gemara on Amud Beis discusses a proof text for the prohibition of even putting chametz on the ramp of the altar. The verse states (Vayikra 2:12), “Towards (El) the altar”.
The Hebrew word “El” does not translate perfectly to English, however, it has a connotation similar to “toward” or “adjacent”.
The Meshech Chochmah (Vayikra 18:19) uses this linguistic feature of Hebrew to explain another proof text related to the following teaching from Gemara Shabbos (13a):
“There was an incident involving one student who studied much Mishna and read much Bible, and served Torah scholars extensively, studying Torah from them, and, nevertheless, died at half his days, half his life expectancy.”
“His wife in her bitterness would take his tefilin and go around with them to synagogues and study halls, and she said to the Sages: It is written in the Torah: “For it is your life and the length of your days” (Deuteronomy 30:20). If so, my husband who studied much Mishna, and read much Bible, and served Torah scholars extensively, why did he die at half his days? Where is the length of days promised him in the verse? No one would respond to her astonishment at all. “
“Eliyahu said: One time I was a guest in her house, and she was relating that entire event with regard to the death of her husband. And I said to her: My daughter, during your Niddah period, how did he act toward you? She said to me: Heaven forbid, he did not touch me even with his little finger. And I asked her: In the days of your white garments, and you were just counting clean days, how did he act toward you then? She said to me: He ate with me, and drank with me, and slept with me with bodily contact and, however, it did not enter his mind about something else, i.e., conjugal relations. “
“And I said to her: Blessed is the Omnipresent who killed him for this sin, as your husband did not show respect to the Torah. The Torah said: “And toward (el) a woman in the separation of her impurity you should not draw near (sikrav)” (Leviticus 18:19), even mere affectionate contact is prohibited.”
The Meshech Chochma points out that many would interpret the Gemara’s proof text as coming from the connotation of “sikrav”, which means to join near, implying that even physical proximity is prohibited. However, that is a relatively weak proof because the simple reading of the verse is a euphemism for sexual activity. The verse doesn’t want to say such a word explicitly, and instead uses substitutes for the word sexual intercourse, such as drawing near. However, the usage of the word (el), which from our Gemara we see has a particular connotation of adjacent, is the true proof text for this prohibition. Even being adjacent during the niddah time is prohibited.
This verse serves as the foundation for a series of rabbinic laws and later customs which limit physical contact and proximity during the niddah time.
The Gemara (Niddah 31b) states:
“Why did the Torah ordain niddah for seven days? Because being in constant contact with his wife a husband might develop a loathing towards her. The Torah, therefore, ordained: Let her be forbidden for seven days in order that she shall be beloved by her husband as at the time of her first entry into the bridal chamber.”
As with many aggadic interpretations, they are but a signal for greater depth and ideas. This interpretation does not limit other reflection, such as how The practice of family purity is beneficial to marriage for emotional regulation, serving as a time to be mindful and express love through non-physical means, as well as allowing for physical and emotional space-taking and learning to respect boundaries. The stronger an urge or instinct is, the more the Torah seeks boundaries in order to enhance the experience by regulating and contextualizing the practice as part of a meaningful life. This is a key Torah principle: To work with human nature to allow for human expression and experience in a meaningful way, instead of fighting it via absolute abstention (see Sefer HaChinuch 488.)
However, not every person experiences niddah in such a beautiful way. Those who have had traumatic abandonment may suffer greatly from the abrupt switches between permitted, forbidden and permitted, again and again. To validate this reality for some is not to criticize the general wisdom of the Torah. Indeed, the Rambam states in his Guide for the Perplexed (III:34):
“It is also important to note that the Law does not take into account exceptional circumstances; it is not based on conditions which rarely occur. Whatever the Law teaches, whether it be of an intellectual, a moral, or a practical character, is founded on that which is the rule and not on that which is the exception: it ignores the injury that might be caused to a single person through a certain maxim or a certain divine precept.”
“For the Law is a divine institution, and [in order to understand its operation] we must consider how in Nature the various forces produce benefits which are general, but in some solitary cases they cause also injury. This is clear from what has been said by ourselves as well as by others. We must consequently not be surprised when we find that the object of the Law does not fully appear in every individual; there must naturally be people who are not perfected by the instruction of the Law, just as there are beings which do not receive from the specific forms in Nature all that they require.”
The Rambam is saying a brilliant idea. Nature is as designed by God as the Torah. In nature, we see find individuals who, for whatever reason do not live or benefit well from the natural world, such as people who suffer from debilitating allergic reactions or other developmental challenges because of their specific genetic nature. So too, there could be individuals that don’t derive as much benefit from a Torah law, despite it being designed to bring about a general and greater good.
Keep in mind, the Rambam is not saying that therefore the person is exempt from that commandment or prohibition, rather the Rambam is being realistic in that at this point in the person‘s life, it may not bring as much benefit as it promises.
It is also not difficult to imagine that, in earlier eras — when women possessed less social protection and autonomy — Torah and rabbinic enactments surrounding blood may also have functioned protectively. A post-partum woman or inexperienced young bride could easily have been vulnerable to an insensitive or immature husband whose desire exceeded his empathy. The taboo surrounding blood created an unambiguous boundary that even the least emotionally attuned husband would respect.
Paradoxically, what may once have protected women from trauma can, for some women today, become a source of distress.
Having said that introduction, let us explore in depth some of the psychological and halachic implications for people who find the niddah Harchakos painful and even traumatic. The emotional consequences of disrupted attachment were not unknown to Chazal. The Gemara (Shabbos 66b and 141b) records accommodations and awareness of a child who pines intensely for his father, recognizing that separation itself can produce distress and induce physical danger to the child’s health.
The following first-person account, shared with permission, illustrates how niddah observance can intersect with complex psychological dynamics:
“I’m already worrying about when I will be a niddah again… Loneliness once more…
…When that time is over and there is no chance that his sexual needs will be fulfilled anyway, he can afford to express his anger…
…It all comes gushing out, like a fire hydrant… destroying my essence…
…I do not feel truly valued for who I am…
…The cruel behaviors I experience during the times when I am not physically available are real… It has become a painful pattern that happens over and over, without any healing…”
In this account we see certain painful psychological patterns that occur in some couples:
- Physical intimacy compensating for weak emotional intimacy
- Trauma-based sensitivity to separation
- Excessive religious scrupulosity during niddah
- Poor impulse control or frustration tolerance
- Religious change within a marriage creating asymmetry
- Multiple vulnerabilities converging into a “perfect storm”
A familiar marital pattern emerges when one spouse experiences the other as emotionally distant while being perceived in return as needy or clingy. Often both perceptions have some validity making finger-pointing and blame counterproductive. Couples should not seek to traumatize the others behavior, but rather think of ways that each person could meet the other’s needs in a healthy compatible manner.
Early attachment trauma can produce opposite adaptations from identical origins: one partner pursues closeness anxiously, while the other withdraws defensively. The cycle of on and off physical intimacy inherent in niddah can unintentionally intensify this pursue-withdraw pattern.
Another difficulty arises when religious observance becomes emotionally rigid. Some spouses interpret niddah restrictions as requiring near-total emotional withdrawal, leaving the other partner feeling starved of affection. At times this reflects anxiety rather than piety. Individuals raised with powerful sexual taboos may struggle to transition suddenly into the permitted. Religious scrupulosity can unconsciously function as emotional self-protection.
I often illustrate this with a thought experiment: Imagine a revered rabbi, such as Eliyahu Hanavi in a messianic future, suddenly instructing someone to eat a ham sandwich on rye at the Pesach Seder as a mitzvah. After lifelong conditioning, revulsion is almost unavoidable. So too, if sexuality — once strongly forbidden — suddenly becomes a holy obligation, confusing emotional reactions can be expected. If not handled deftly and sensitively, trauma can result.
Overscrupulosity may also stem from Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder (OCPD). Unlike OCD, OCPD is ego-syntonic: the individual experiences little distress, while others suffer from rigid perfectionism and control.
Because hilchos niddah involve fine technical distinctions alongside areas requiring trust and flexibility, inappropriate stringencies can emerge — sometimes justified through literal readings of halachic texts divorced from context. Emotional distance during niddah followed by sudden warmth afterward may leave a spouse feeling valued primarily as a physical object.
Even terminology contributes to emotional experience. The word niddah carries distancing connotations. Ramban (Vayikra 12:4; Rosh Hashana 26a) note associations with impurity or separation.
Yet already in Shabbos 64b, Rabbi Akiva reinterprets the phrase “she shall remain niddah,” rejecting earlier rulings that required a woman to appear unattractive. Otherwise, he warns, the scale can skip to an extreme. Lack of permission to maintain beauty can lead to loss of attraction.
Eruvin (63b) further emphasizes that emotional intimacy remains vital even during niddah; as it is forbidden to sleep in the same area as a couple. This includes even if all modesty concerns are taken into account and the couple is niddah. This shows that intruding upon a couple’s shared space is prohibited despite physical abstention, indicating a value in emotional connection even during niddah times.
For many who do experience emotional trauma and dysregulation from some of the niddah practices, to the extent that they may be rabbinic, could allowances be made?
Although many of the harchakos are custom or rabbinic, physical contact, especially of a sexual nature is likely forbidden me-deoraysa, as we have seen in the earlier verse quoted by Meshech Chochmah.
This issue is discussed in Shulchan Arukh (YD 195:16-17):
It is forbidden for a woman who is ill and a niddah to have her husband assist her physically in lying down, rising, or supporting her in bed.
Rama: Others hold that where no one else is available, it is permitted in cases of great need.
Similarly, if the husband is a physician, Rav Karo prohibits even taking her pulse, while Rama permits it when no alternative doctor is available and there is danger to health.
Rav Karo’s stringency may reflect treatment of the prohibition as Biblical, whereas Rama’s leniency aligns more readily with a view that the restriction is rabbinic and therefore overrideable in cases of need.
Shach (ibid. 10) adds an additional nuance. Even according to those who hold that the prohibition is Biblical, “drawing near” refers specifically to contact expressing love or desire. Physical contact devoid of affectionate or lustful intent — such as medical treatment — would not constitute prohibited “nearness.” Thus, taking a pulse in cases of necessity would be permitted because it lacks a sexual motive.
A parallel appears in the Yerushalmi (Niddah 1:7), which questions the propriety of a Kohen placing his hands beneath those of the Sotah during the wave offering. The Yerushalmi proposes solutions: using a cloth separation, appointing an elderly priest, or relying on the assumption that momentary ritual contact would not provoke arousal.
Depending on interpretation, this passage may either support or challenge the Shach. One might argue that non-intimate contact is inherently permissible; alternatively, the very concern raised by the Yerushalmi suggests sensitivity even to non-sexual touch. The Shach could respond that the Yerushalmi labels the situation “unseemly,” not forbidden — addressing propriety rather than legality.
Rabbi Moshe Feinstein (Igros Moshe EH II:14) rules broadly in accordance with the Shach, permitting medical touch where no affection is involved. Nevertheless, he distinguishes between unrelated women and one’s own wife who is niddah, noting that greater caution is warranted due to natural marital intimacy.
Given these distinctions, the question naturally arises: what of a situation in which a woman is severely emotionally dysregulated — for example, facing suicidality or impulsive self-harm? May a husband offer stabilizing physical reassurance such as holding her hand or giving a hug?
I will raise two additional challenges. The first is meta-halachic and the second is halachic. The meta-halachic issue is because we are dealing with a long-term situation, and a slippery slope of human desire rationalization, even if it is technically permitted. We may wonder if it is wise to allow a couple to routinely have some form of physical contact during the niddah period. The second concern is halachic, based on a Gemara Sanhedrin (75a) regarding a man whose lovesickness endangered his life.
(As an interesting significant side point is about how accepting the rabbis were about challenges in human nature. It is notable that they did not question the doctors’ assessment that his life was in danger. They did not tell him, “You have a problem with desire so go back and study more Mesilas Yesharim.” The rabbis were not emotionally tone deaf, and were quite concerned with his state. Now they still had a problem with what to do about his situation. But they did not undermine or invalidate his relative and subjective deep distress.)
The final ruling of the Gemara was that even minimal interaction with the desired woman was forbidden, no matter how light the prohibition was from a technical stance. This is because of the idea that a minor part of a greater prohibition takes on the stringencies of the totality. Since one is obligated to martyr himself and not commit a sexual violation, even a minor sexual prohibition falls under this umbrella.. Rambam (Yesodei HaTorah ch. 5) and Beis Yosef (YD 157) codify this strict stance: sexual prohibitions belong to the category requiring martyrdom.
Yet it is not so simple as Rama (YD 157:2) rules:
“In the case of one who desires another man’s wife (“He-elah Tina”), if his wife can sleep with him such that he will believe he is sleeping with the forbidden woman, this is permitted (Nimukei Yosef, Hagozel Basra).”
It is particularly instructive that Ramah used the exact same phrase in Aramaic as the Talmud used in Sanhedrin (“He-elah Tina”). A reasonable conclusion is that he chose this phrase deliberately to alert the reader that he does not consider the restriction of the rabbis in Sanhedrin as generalizable to all situations of sexual indiscretion. It should be noted, that elsewhere, such behavior is forbidden as codified in Shulkan Arukh (OH 240:2, also see Nedarim 20b), where it is forbidden to fantasize about another woman during sexual relations with one’s wife. We see that while the rabbis took steps to prevent moral degradation to the point of enforcing certain rabbinic sexual restrictions to the extent of requiring martyrdom, it is not always the universal stance in halacha. Furthermore, in the situation above, Rama did not indicate that the desire was at a point established by doctors as “lovesick”, and so it would seem it was simply permissible if the person felt his desire was strong enough that it might lead to a greater sin, i.e. adultery, or possibly, masturbation.
Additionally, we may wonder if there are forms of touch that appear outwardly affectionate but subjectively non-sexual — expressions of emotional stabilization rather than intimacy? After all, human experience clearly recognizes physical affection that carries no erotic intent; parents hug and kiss children intensely without sexual feelings.
Several sources raise this possibility
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Rabbi Feinstein (Igros Moshe EH IV:64) permits hugging and kissing adopted children where no sexual intent exists — noteworthy given his well-known prohibition against routine handshakes with women (EH I:56). This apparent contradiction suggests that psychological or emotional necessity may sometimes shift the equation.
Similarly, Ezer Mikodesh (EH 20:1) distinguishes between affectionate contact and contact motivated by sexual lust, defining the Biblical prohibition as applying specifically to actions anticipating sexual expression were it not for an external barrier.
A striking responsum from Rabbi Yair Chaim Bacharach (Chavos Yair 182) discusses a hypothetical case in which a man, under coercion from border authorities, would be required to kiss a woman publicly to prove she was his wife. Rav Bacharach considers even the scenario where the woman were his wife, while she was niddah, and permits the act if performed without desire — “with a saddened heart, as if compelled.”
Notably, this discussion appears within a responsum addressing a practical matter, suggesting that the author viewed the scenario as halachically meaningful rather than purely theoretical.
These sources become particularly relevant as contemporary awareness grows regarding the impact of trauma and attachment injury on shalom bayis. They may suggest theoretical space to consider whether certain forms of contact intended purely for emotional stabilization — absent lust or arousal — differ categorically from intimacy.
At the same time, such reasoning carries obvious risks of error or misuse. Any practical application would require careful deliberation, and the intersection between halacha and psychological necessity is not easily resolved. Accordingly, questions of this nature properly belong within collaborative discussion between competent poskim (which I am not!) and treating professionals (which I aspire to be!) before any conclusions are drawn.