2,711 pages of Talmud. A gem a day.

Zevachim 44

The priests were not like other Israelites. the priests had no land, had no job outside of serving the Temple, they relied completely on the sacrifices offered by others for their food. Today, amidst learning about how so many things can disqualify a sacrifice so that it becomes piggul or notar – forbidden because of improper intention or being out of the window of when it’s okay to consume the sacrifice – we are reminded of what the priest CAN eat. So, don’t worry people, they were taken care of.

“Every offering of theirs,” which serves to include the log of oil of a leper;

“Every meal offering of theirs,” serves to include the omer meal offering, brought as a communal offering on the sixteenth of Nisan, and the meal offering of jealousy, brought by a sota.

“And every sin offering of theirs,” serves to include the bird sin offering;

“Every guilt offering of theirs,” serves to include the guilt offering of a nazirite who contracted ritual impurity, and the guilt offering of a leper.

I picture the priests as burley men. Huge and strong and very well fed. More Dwayne the Rock Johnson than Matthew Gray Gubler.

Zevachim 43

This passage struck me as beautiful:

As Ulla says: The mishna taught that items that descended from the altar shall not ascend again only where the fire has not taken hold of them, but where the fire has already taken hold of them, they shall ascend.

We can come and go from holy places, magical experiences, and feel nothing . . . or something can ignite our passion, something can set us on fire, we feel transcendence, glimpse the holy. It can be everything.

Zevachim 42

I am mostly a vegetarian, however, I eat fish from time to time, about once a month. A few weeks ago, I walked out of a service and could smell barbecued meat, and it smelled fantastic. I can only imagine what it must have been like for the priests who were in charge of the animal sacrifices, smelling the meat and the spices . . . I am sure they often thought about when they would be able to eat the sacrifice.

On today’s daf, not rendering a sacrifice piggul is the main focus. The Mishna defines piggul (פגול) as resulting from one of the four sacrificial procedures (slaughter, collection of the blood, walking to the altar and sprinkling) being performed with the intention of eating the sacrifice after its appointed time only. To put it simply – you’re not supposed to smell the Passover Lamb and think “I want to eat some of this over the weekend” because the Passover sacrifice has to be eaten in it’s entirety that night. This applies to any sacrifice whose consumption is time bound.

But with regard to the blood placed inside, i.e., in the Holy of Holies, on the Curtain, and on the inner altar, e.g., the forty-three presentations of the blood of the bull and goat of Yom Kippur, and the eleven presentations of the blood of the bull for an unwitting sin of the anointed priest, and the eleven presentations of the blood of the bull for an unwitting communal sin, if in those cases the priest had an intention that can render the offering piggul, whether during the first set of presentations, whether during the second set, or whether during the third set, i.e., in any of the requisite sets of presentations, Rabbi Meir says: The offering is piggul and one is liable to receive karet for its consumption. And the Rabbis say: There is no liability for karet unless he had an intention that can render the offering piggul during the performance of the entire permitting factor.

How hard would it be to slaughter all that meat and not think about doggie bags?

Again, the daf emphasizes the importance of intention. The difference is this is not about forbidden food or forbidden locations – it’s about procrastination. There is a middah (Jewish value/character trait) called Zerizut, best translated as alacrity. It’s a mitzvah not to dilly-dally, not to put off what should be done now.

So, go and do it!

Zevachim 41

A lot of Jewish law is derived by the rabbis from association and juxtaposition of words. Today’s gem comes to explain why so much law needs to be derived in this round about kind of way – because God loves us so much God doesn’t want to detail our wrongs.

The school of Rabbi Yishmael taught: For what reason are the diaphragm and the two kidneys stated with regard to the bull for an unwitting sin of the anointed priest, and they are not explicitly stated with regard to the bull for an unwitting communal sin? This can be explained by a parable: It can be compared to a flesh-and-blood king who grew angry with his beloved servant for his misdeeds, but spoke little of the servant’s offense due to his great affection for him. Likewise, as the Jewish people are beloved by God, the Torah does not describe their sin offering in detail.

I remember how I would tell my mom all about when my boyfriend(s) were doing things wrong, when they annoyed me and when we were fighting. The result? She didn’t like them. But, when things were going well, I didn’t need to talk! But I realized that if I wanted her to like a partner, I needed to not give so many negative details, especially if I wasn’t going to spend time sharing all the good. Now, with social media, it seems the world tilts towards the opposite, we talk all about the good in our lives and very rarely, if ever, express the bad. Both give distortions to reality. The daf reminds me that when we love someone, we may not want to put them on blast and express all their faults to others, and yet – we should not pretend that all is perfect. Just like the priests offers the sacrifice for our sins, but maybe we don’t have to give every detail . . .

Zevachim 40

There is a leak in our sanctuary.

Our sanctuary is gorgeous. The eastern wall is made of Jerusalem stone and is reminiscent of the Kotel (The wailing wall in Jerusalem). It is convex which is horrible for sound but aesthetically stunning. There is booth natural and artificial light, and so it’s always glowing. It’s beautiful. And, it’s leaking. There are streams of rain running down the walls, and then, sometimes we will even put trash cans behind the pulpit chairs to catch the water. So, of course, this was the gem that stuck out to me:

Rabbi Shimon requires the phrase “in the Tent of Meeting” to teach that if the roof of the Sanctuary was breached by a hole, the priest would not sprinkle the blood, as it would no longer be called the Tent of Meeting. The Gemara asks: And the other tanna, Rabbi Yehuda, from where does he derive this halakha? The Gemara explains that Rabbi Yehuda derives it from the superfluous term “which is in the Tent of Meeting” (Leviticus 4:7, 18).

Yes, the Priest could not offer a sacrifice if the sanctuary had a leaky roof. While this is, of course, only referring to the sanctuary in The Temple, not my temple, I still think there is something profound about the message. I can imagine someone bringing an animal for sacrifice – that’s a significant amount of money – and seeing the roof leaking. It begs question about priorities. Would not the money be better spent patching the roof?

While appearances should not matter, and God is present everywhere, there are places that we feel closer to God. We call the sanctuary God’s house. What does it say when we do not take care of God’s house? What does it say when we do not make that space beautiful? We should want to give God our best and that means having spaces for God be built beautifully and with quality. So, we need to patch those leaks, until we do, I will dump the water out before services begin.

Zevachim 39

Being that we no longer offer physical sacrifices (such as animals and spices), it’s no wonder that we know so little of the rituals. Today’s gem is to notice that there are not one, but two altars for sacrifice!

The first is the Golden Alter (Mizbeach Hazahav), which is also known as the Altar of Incense, was located within the Temple shrine and is used for burning incense. As we read in Exodus 30:7-11:

“On it Aaron shall burn aromatic incense: he shall burn it every morning when he tends the lamps, and Aaron shall burn it at twilight when he lights the lamps—a regular incense offering before יהוה throughout the ages. You shall not offer alien incense on it, or a burnt offering or a meal offering; neither shall you pour a libation on it. Once a year Aaron shall perform purification upon its horns with blood of the sin offering of purification; purification shall be performed upon it once a year throughout the ages. It is most holy to יהוה.”

We see that this altar is used only for incense, however, once a year on Yom Kippur the blood of the sin offering is poured onto the altar to purify it.

The second altar is the “outer altar” or the large Altar of Burnt Offering, which was used for animal sacrifices and other offerings in the main courtyard.

On our daf today we learn that we need to be able to use both and both hold different rules. Here is just one line: In what case is this statement said? In a case of the blood of sin offerings brought on the inner altar. But in the case of the blood of sin offerings brought on the external altar, one who offers up such an offering outside the Temple is exempt.

I can’t help but notice how the outer offerings are very public. These are in a more public area of the Temple, closer to the people, and larger sacrifices that may feed many in the community. The inner offerings are closer to God, they are mere incense, and bring us away from the crowds closer to the Holy of Holies.

And I think of what we need – when we’ve messed up and need forgiveness, when we are grateful, when the holidays have arrived – we need both community and connection. We need to be seen by God and by others, we need to be with anyone and the with the One. How beautiful to have both. May we all be blessed with inner and outer altars in our lives.

Zevachim 38

There is so much beautiful symbolism in the holiday of Sukkot. One of my favorites is derived from a teaching on the top of today’s daf.

Yesterday, when determining how many corners (horns) the priest needed to sprinkle the blood of sacrifice upon, there was an argument made that if a word was written in the plural it must symbolize at least two. It gets us to a funny place where one could read that a sukkah needs 6 sides . . .

The Gemara raises another objection to this method of exposition: If that is so, consider the case of a sukka, about which it is stated: “In sukkot [basukkot] shall you reside seven days; all that are homeborn in Israel shall reside in sukkot [basukkot]. So that your future generations will know that I caused the children of Israel to reside in sukkot [basukkot] when I took them out of the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God” (Leviticus 23:42–43). Two instances of the word basukkot are written in a deficient manner, i.e., without a vav, indicating the singular, and one instance is written in plene form, i.e., with a vav, indicating the plural form. The Sages derived from here that a sukka must have four walls. Why not say that the vocalized text, read in the plural, is effective, requiring six walls, and likewise, the consonantal text, read in the singular, is effective, requiring four walls, and therefore one should be required to build a sukka with five walls?

On today’s daf the number of walls necessary is reduced to what we require today:

The Gemara answers: There, one of the five indicated by the verse is needed entirely for the mitzva itself, i.e., to teach the basic halakha that one must dwell in a sukka. And another one of the five is needed to teach that a sukka, as is indicated by its name, must have a covering [sekhakha]. Accordingly, there are three left, alluding to the requirement that a sukka must have three walls. The Gemara adds that the halakha transmitted to Moses from Sinai comes and reduces the size of the third wall, teaching that it need not be complete, and sets its minimum length at only one handbreadth.

So, the walls required for a sukkah to be kosher are two walls plus a handsbreadth. Now, the reason this is my favorite piece of symbolism on the holiday.

Take a look at any of your arms, says Rabbi Isaac Luria, and you will notice its division into three distinct sections. The first is from the shoulder to the elbow; the second is from the elbow to the wrist; and the handsbreadth is represented by our hand. When we sit in the sukkah, it is as if we are being hugged by God.

On Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur we are judged, we repent, we vow to do better. Then, God takes us into God’s embrace, and we dwell for an entire week in the sukkah, God’s hug.

Zevachim 37

I remember being a child and reading from the Gate of Repentance, the red prayerbook we used on the High Holidays, and asking my mother what xenophobia meant. It was on our alphabetical list of sins. Years later, when it was on my GRE exam, I still remembered (it’s fear of foreigners).

Today’s daf introduced me to a new English word: plene. According to Merriam-Webster dictionary, plene is an adjective that means “having the full orthographic or grammatical form given in Masoretic texts as corrections of the defective forms that appeared in ancient biblical texts.”

In reading Hebrew words from sacred texts, sometimes we pronounce a word differently than they are written. We call this “kativ o kri” written and/or pronounced.

In the context of the daf, they are debating how many corners (or horns) of the alter must have blood placed on them for the sacrifice to be affective. When we read “corner” looks like it’s singular but we pronounce it plural. So, depending on what we count, we need to put blood on a different total of corners.

And if you wish, say instead that this is the reason of Beit Hillel: The vocalized text of the Torah, i.e., the way in which the words of the Torah are pronounced based on the tradition of what vowels the words contain, is effective in determining how the verses are to be expounded. And likewise, the consonantal text of the Torah, i.e., the way in which the words are actually written, is also effective in determining how the verses are to be expounded. The Gemara elaborates: The vocalized text is effective in adding one more corner and the consonantal text is effective in subtracting one corner.

So, my gem is two-fold. One, I learned a new word today: plene. Two: the beauty of not having vowels and punctuation in the Torah means that we can derive multiple meanings from the same verse. The Torah contains layers and layers of meaning, and I love that.

Zevachim 36

We have a tendency to take sides. If two friends divorce, most often, we stay close with only one member of the couple. We choose sides when watching sports, even when “our team” isn’t playing. And, yes, in war, we take sides saying one side is just and the other isn’t. And that can be very true. At the same time, there may be danger in only feeling the pain of “our side” and only believing the stories of “our side.”

On our daf today we are told: אֵין דָּם מְבַטֵּל דָּם “blood does not nullify blood.”

Rabbi Yehuda conforms to his line of reasoning, as he says: Blood does not nullify blood.

Just because our losses are real, does not mean that the losses of the other are not. Our pain does not negate the pain of others.

There is so much what-about-ism happening. If I share a moment of experiencing antisemitism and try to share it, I may be met with “but what about” – fill in the blank there: the Gazans, African Americans, Christian men (literally anything). Blood does not nullify blood. Our experiences are real. You don’t have to be wrong for me to be right.

Zevachim 35

Today’s gem is the disgusting image of what the Temple courtyard must have looked like on Passover when everyone brought a lamb to be sacrificed. They had been discussing the blood that takes the life of the animal verses any blood that drains after. Just FYI. These bloods are not mixed and only the blood of life is offered on the alter.

The Gemara cites the continuation of the baraita: Rabbi Yehuda said to the Rabbis: According to your statement that the mixed blood on the floor may not be used, why do they plug the drain of the Temple courtyard on Passover eve and not allow the blood to flow out through it? The Rabbis said to him: It is a source of praise for the sons of Aaron that they should walk in blood up to their ankles, thereby demonstrating their love for the Temple service.

Nasty. Blood up to their ankles!! That’s a lot of lambs.

Why is this my gem? Besides it being nasty to picture? (By the way, they create planks for the priests to walk on so they don’t get their outfits bloods.) It’s my gem because this happened once a year. Passover. Today, we eat so much meat and get grossed out by scenes like this. But imagine if all the blood of one McDonalds drained on the floor of the room. That sea of blood would be much higher than the ankles. If that grosses you out, maybe think of eating less meat. Then when you do it will be much more of a holy occasion.