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

There is a concept in Judaism called Tza’ar Ba’alei Chayim. this is a commandment that says that we cannot cause animals unnecessary harm. According to The Oxford Handbook of Jewish Ethics and Morality this is referring to “suffering that does not advance some legitimate human good.” So, we can slaughter an animal to save a human life but no wanton hurting or killing is allowed. This law affects how we eat, how we do research, and how we treat animals.

That’s why today’s daf suggests something that is both a bit shocking and sad . . .

The baraitateaches: One might have thought that the offspring of a sin-offering and the substitute of a guilt-offering should also be treated so, i.e., they too should be sacrificed on the altar like sin-offerings and guilt-offerings. Therefore, the verse states: “Only” (Deuteronomy 12:26). The Gemara asks: Why do I need a verse for this halakha? After all, this halakha is learned as a tradition that the offspring of a sin-offering goes to its death.

and what does this death look like if they are not sacrificed? one must bring them up to the Temple and withhold water and food from them so that they should die.

Starve and dehydrate an animal? That certainly sounds like unnecessary suffering. Apparently locking up animals and letting them starve to death is the law in 5 situations. 1) The offspring of an animal offered as a sacrifice (as it was in the womb when the mother was dedicated so it has some holiness but not full holiness). 2) The terumah of a sin offering. 3) A sin offering that was designated but its owner died before the sacrifice. 4) An animal earmarked as a sacrifice that became too old to be a valid sacrifice. And 5) A sin offering that was lost and then when it was found had a wound or impurity while, in the meantime, the owner brought a substitute animal for the sacrifice.

Each is a grey area in that they are kindof earmarked as sacrifices to God but also, not. So, here two values come into conflict – that of honoring lives of animals and that of never using things consecrated to God for secular purposes.

The gem? We don’t have to worry about this as the Temple has not stood since 70 CE. So, we should not be hung up on these rare and specific moments where an animal may suffer for the sake of keeping things sacred and instead worry about all the suffering animals experience for the sake of our unholy eating habits . . .

Hope I didn’t ruin your Shabbat dinner.

I love the water. Especially lakes. As a kid in Indiana, there were a lot of lakes to swim in. Moving from that landlocked state to Florida, I also love the ocean – however, the salt stings my eyes and makes my body itch and, if I don’t shower, my skin might even get a rash . . . very different, and the difference is salt.

It’s not just our skin and eyes that react to saltwater differently. People who boat know that saltwater corrodes metal five times faster than fresh water does. But what about the saltiest body of water in the world? What about the Dead Sea – called dead because nothing can live in it?

The Gemara speaks of a woman who made a nazir vow that was then cancelled by her husband. The Germara questiosn what to do with money that was earmarked for her nazir offering. If she had unallocated funds, i.e., she had separated money for her offerings but had not stated which coins were designated for which offering, all the money will be earmarked for communal gift offerings. If she had allocated funds, i.e., she had decided which coins were for the payment of each offering, even if she had not yet purchased the animals, the money for the sin-offering is taken and cast into the Dead Sea, i.e., it must be destroyed.

So, why the Dead Sea? Because it’s so darn salty. A little chemistry background is good to have here. That metal will wear away even faster than in the ocean. It’s good to know so that we don’t try and dive to the bottom of the Dead Sea to find all those old coins! They will have long ago corroded. Also – it’s really hard to dive down into the Dead Sea – 1) you float because it’s so darn salty and 2) if any of that water gets anywhere near your eyes – you can’t open them until someone pours desalinated water over your face.

So, be careful what you throw into the Dead Sea – it will like either stay on top of the water – or complete degrade.

Wow, today’s daf is jammed packed from Yael killing Sicera to a Lot’s daughters trying to get pregnant by him to one rabbi even claiming: Rav Naḥman bar Yitzḥak said: Greater is a transgression committed for its own sake, i.e., for the sake of Heaven, than a mitzva performed not for its own sake. (don’t worry they disprove this.) It’s a lot! But today’s gem for me is this scene:

With regard to a woman who vowed to be a nazirite, and she transgressed her vow since she was drinking wine and rendering herself ritually impure by contact with the dead, she incurs the forty lashes for each of the Torah prohibitions she transgressed. If her husband nullified her vow, and she did not know that her husband had nullified her vow, and she was drinking wine and rendering herself impure by contact with the dead, she does not incur the forty lashes, as she is no longer a nazirite. Rabbi Yehuda says: Even if she does not incur the forty lashes by Torah law, she should incur lashes for rebelliousness [makat mardut], an extrajudicial punishment imposed by the Sages, for her intention to commit a transgression, since she believed that it was prohibited to her.

So, I keep thinking about the things we do to try to get someone else’s attention or make them jealous without them caring or noticing. I am thinking about “taking poison and waiting for the other person to die.” So this woman thinks she is rebelling, doing the wrong thing, but she’s the only one who considers what she is doing to be wrong or shocking . . . does she deserve to be punished? Maybe not for breaking a nazir vow – but she clearly needs help and attention in positive ways so she stops trying to get it in negative. . .

As it is taught in a baraita that Rabbi Elazar HaKappar the esteemed says: What is the meaning when the verse states: “And make atonement for him, for that he sinned by reason of the soul” (Numbers 6:11)? And with which soul did this nazirite sin? Rather, because he deprived himself of wine he is therefore called a sinner. And are not these matters inferred a fortiori: And if this one, who deprived himself only of wine, is nevertheless called a sinner, in the case of one who deprives himself of everything by fasting or other acts of mortification, all the more so is he labeled a sinner.

I just read a book, Strangers to Ourselves by Rachel Aviv, where she talks about a time when she was 6 years old and felt so holy fasting for Yom Kippur that she gave up eating. She eventually ended up hospitalized. Her book is about other stories of people who some might be considered holy while others would deem them mentally unbalanced. All this to say – the pattern of people depriving themselves in unhealthy ways is, and has long been, a path that people have taken to try and get closer to the divine. Take monks. Take Priests and Nuns. Take ascetics.

Now, take the Nazir.

On our daf we learn that it’s a sin for us to deprive ourselves – a sin to try to connect to God through deprivation. In fact, we are a people of blessings. Blessings for each bite of food. A blessing for wine. A blessing for seeing beauty. A blessing for going to the bathroom. Getting dressed. Sleeping. Waking.

Our faith wants us to connect to God through the beauty of what life graces us with. Connect through enjoying, savoring, blessing – not through self-punishment.

Today’s lesson: How to squash a movement.

Or a more positive take: How to remove peer pressure.

Our Gemara is grappling with the phenomenon of people following the leader. The Mishna taught: With regard to one who said: I am hereby a nazirite, and another heard this vow and said: And I, and a third person added: And I, they are all nazirites. But, our rabbis don’t want people becoming nazirites simply because their friend is doing it. (If all your friends abstained from alcohol and hanging in cemeteries would you? Probably.) So our Gemara tries to stop the phenomenon of peer pressure/tipping point/group think with the following limitations: 1) by making it so you have to say “and I” (me too!) within a very short period of time. In the case of one who said: I am hereby a nazirite, and another heard him and waited the time required for speaking a short phrase and then said: And I, the first person is bound by his vow and the other is permitted, meaning not a nazir as too much time passed between their respective vows. And 2) limiting how many people can hop on the bang wagon: With regard to one who said: I am hereby a nazirite, and another heard this vow and said: And I, and a third person added: And I, they are all nazirites. The mishna mentions only two individuals who associated themselves with the initial vow, and no more.

Trends catch on. People love to follow. The band wagon is a fun ride. The rabbis try to cut it off at 3 because the more people do anything – the more people there are who want to do it.

This reminded me of a video that was circulating back in 2010. Enjoy it!

Today’s daf gives us a new Mishna: In a case of one who had two sets of witnesses testifying about him that he had taken a vow of naziriteship for a certain period, and these witnesses testify that he took a vow of naziriteship for two terms, and these witnesses testify that he took a vow of naziriteship for five terms. Beit Shammai say: The testimony is divided, i.e., the testimonies contradict each other, and since the testimonies are in conflict they are both rejected entirely and there is no naziriteship here at all. And Beit Hillel say: The testimonies are not completely in conflict with each other, as two terms are included in five terms, and the unanimous testimony, that he is a nazirite for two terms, is accepted.

Here, someone made a vow in front of two witnesses but the witnesses disagree about what they heard. So, the debate becomes, does their conflicting testimony cancel both (Shammai)? Or do you say that which ever is the shorter period of time is included in the longer and therefore they both agree to the shorter (Hillel)?

There are two things I like about this. The firs tis that so often in life we have a conversation and what one person walks away with and what another person walks away with are very different. Trying to reminisce we will often remember things different than others.

The second thing I like about this is the question that emerges – can we focus on the things we have in common and accomplish those goals, or do we have to do nothing because we can’t agree. This certainly seems to be a question our Federal government grapples with. But it’s one we do in our personal relationships as well.

Our rabbis side with Beit Hillel over Beit Shammai in almost all cases, and usually I agree with them. But not today! Today, the Mishna teaches: One who vowed many days of naziriteship while outside Eretz Yisrael, and completed his naziriteship, and afterward came to Eretz Yisrael, in order to bring the offerings at the end of his naziriteship, Beit Shammai say: He must be a nazirite for thirty days, so that he has observed a term of naziriteship in ritual purity in Eretz Yisrael, and Beit Hillel say: He is a nazirite from the beginning, that is, he must observe his entire naziriteship again.

What is Beit Hillel trying to do to people! How horrible! Now, we get a story where this ruling is taken to the extreme:

An incident occurred with regard to Queen Helene, whose son had gone to war, and she said: If my son will return from war safely, I will be a nazirite for seven years. And her son returned safely from the war, and she was a nazirite for seven years. And at the end of seven years, she ascended to Eretz Yisrael, and Beit Hillel instructed her, in accordance with their opinion, that she should be a nazirite for an additional seven years. And at the end of those seven years she became ritually impure, and was therefore required to observe yet another seven years of naziriteship, as ritual impurity negates the tally of a nazirite. And she was found to be a nazirite for twenty-one years. Rabbi Yehuda said: She was a nazirite for only fourteen years and not twenty-one.

This poor woman! (Okay, not poor, a queen, but still.) Can you imagine? Worried about her son she makes a vow that only affects her. Then she has the dignity to go through with fulfilling the vow – and it’s a 7 year vow so it’s nothing light here. Then Hillel tells her she has to do another 7! And then she becomes impure and ends up doing 21! Yikes!

And, I can’t help but think of how righteous she is and how generous in her offering. In the Torah, we see Jeptha at war also make a vow to God. But instead of saying he will become a nazir – he vows that whatever first greets him from his household he will offer as a sacrifice . . . and it’s his daughter who runs to greet him. (Where’s the bet din overturning that vow? Huh?)

She seems a wonderful mother and queen. And, a very sober and long haired one!

So, on today’s daf we are still in the cemetery and still a nazir. Today, the focus is on whether someone who was a nazir and comes into a cemetery and one who became a nazir (or made the vow) while in a cemetery are required to bring the same sacrifices. The answer? No. Why? “And he defiles his consecrated head,” indicating that the verse speaks only of one who was a pure nazirite and later became impure, and that only he requires hair removal and the bringing of birds.

This is from Numbers 6:9, “And if any man dies very suddenly beside him and he defiles his consecrated head, then he shall shave his head on the day of his cleansing; on the seventh day he shall shave it.”

One idea for us to think about is the importance of a restart. Both the person who made the vow in the cemetery, and the person who was a nazir who came in contact with the dead, would like to serve as a nazir. Both need a restart to their dedication. It makes me think of people falling off of diets or messing up – and how that doesn’t need to define you, how you can often make your amends (offer your sacrifices) and give it another go. Sometimes we can just let things go and move on. But sometimes we need a complete restart.

Here’s to, not just the new, but the renewed.

Today’s daf grapples with the person who vows to be a nazir while standing in a cemetery. It wonders if they need to receive lashes since a nazir is not allowed be be in contact with the dead. And then it takes a strange turn as it tries to imagine (or did this actually happen?) a scenario where someone could become a nazir while being in a cemetery without becoming impure . . .

Rather, Rava refers to a case where one entered the cemetery in a chest, box, or cabinet, i.e., in large wooden containers that do not contract ritual impurity. One can enter a cemetery in such a container without becoming impure. If one was carried into a cemetery inside one of these containers, then took a vow of naziriteship, and another came and removed the top [ma’aziva] from above him, he would become ritually impure by virtue of being in the cemetery.

Wow. Sorry, when someone enters a cemetary in a box, I can only think of them being dead.

Here, Rava is imagining someone who tried to remain pure but be present.

This reminds me of Cohens (descendants of priests) who will go to the outside of the cemetery to when someone close to them dies. This way they don’t become impure, but they are not coming into contact with the dead. And it has us ask a good question – how can I be present in an authentic way? What are my boundaries? How can I show up for the dead, for the mourners, while still being true to myself?

One who took a vow of naziriteship while in a cemetery, even if he was there for a full thirty days without leaving, those days he spent in the cemetery do not count as part of his tally, since his naziriteship has not yet gone into effect . . .

My mom’s unveiling is this weekend. My sister’s family and my family are all traveling in so that we can visit the cemetery.

Reading the daf, I am wondering about this person who is spending a month in the cemetery. What are they hoping for? Are they talking to their dead? Are they trying to accept it’s finality? Are they stuck, unable to let go?

Judaism has stages of grief observance. The first few days, the shivah period, the shloshim, the unveiling, the year, the yartzeit . . . They are there to help us confront and process loss. But we are also not supposed to overly mourn our dead. It can become a form of idolatry.

So, I wonder about this person who won’t leave the cemetery. And I wonder if our visiting the cemetery will help us all to give thanks to, and let go of, my mom.