What happens when you place two sets of (personal) scales on top of each other — what will you weigh? I recently had the rare opportunity to do just that, after finding an additional one discarded along my commute, that just needed its battery replaced. And it even had a glass plate so I could see through to the second set.
Maybe it is totally obvious to the cherished reader, just as it is to me now, but before the experiment, I was genuinely unsure and intrigued: Would both scales show the same reading? Or only the top, or only the bottom one? Your grasp of physics may be far better than mine, so apologies if I bore you, but besides the actual result, my musings about the whole concept of scales and weights seemed worth sharing.
They’re still called in the plural, because scales used to be a system of two bowls either side of a fulcrum. Maybe we have lost the sense that scales have to do with equilibrium, with balance, as the modern weight-determining devices have become single plates with a digital read-out.
So, here’s the low-down: Of course, the top set shows the original weight, while the bottom set shows something about three pounds heavier, because the weight of the second unit placed on top adds to the total. Incidentally, I got to notice how two sets of personal scales from the same brand, placed on the same spot can easily measure a three-pound difference.
That out of the way, here are some of my musings: first, as an aside, being called “personal” — often the person determining his or her weight takes the reading “personally”. Secondly, and more profoundly, there is the intriguing homonym of “scales” meaning the measuring device and the fish skin. Indeed, it is a polyseme rather than a homonym, as the old Norsk word «skel» means shell, i.e. the original (drinking) bowl that if hung either side of a fulcrum would form a set of scales. Likewise, (kosher) fish are seen as being covered in little cups or bowls — removable scales. (All fish with kosher scales also have fins, so the scales are the decisive criterion.)
In Hebrew thought, “scales” or “husks” are the layers of insensitivity that we wrap around us with our stiff-necked callousness, until G‑d’s love has to appear to us as hatred and violence, as Hᴇ breaks our crust to get through to our soul hearts, pulsing somewhere inside the fortresses we built.
As we layer on the scales, we become heavier. Each layer is an additional burden to carry. Measuring several times does not produce one consistent measurement, each instance of additional measure adds a different weight. Safety does not scale.
So there you have it, a simple journey through polysemy from two glass scales to fortresses and divine love being distinguishable from hatred only with discipline. May we merit to receive G‑d’s light into our dark innermosts.