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

Four times the daf tells this story (when trying to determin if it’s okay to wash leather on Shabbat):

Rav Ḥiyya bar Ashi said: Many times I would stand before Rav on Shabbat and place water on his leather shoes, which he did not consider laundering on Shabbat?

Why I like it: 1) We learn so much more about what is okay/not okay by studying the example of others than by studying text. And 2) so often when we see someone doing something questionable we assume the worst. On the daf, we see that while Rav would have his shoes spit shined on Shabbat, the others rabbis don’t assume the worst – they assume the best – that he knows something they don’t. Therefore they spend the majority of the daf figuring out how his example is kosher and one they could follow.

We are still washing laundry on the daf today. Which leads one to question: why does the blood need to be washed off immediately? Do we really expect the priests to stay pristinely clean as they slaughter so many animals?

We learn on the daf, if sacrificial blood is absorbed by another object, the laws pertaining to the sacrifice are transferred to the object unless the blood is removed. (So now your priestly robe is subject to the laws of sacrifice, unless you have a stain stick!) All to say, clothing that was stained by blood had to be washed immediately. We also learn: And the laundering must be performed in a sacred place, the Temple courtyard, and the breaking of an earthenware vessel in which a sin offering was cooked must be performed in a sacred place, and scouring and rinsing of a copper vessel in which a sin offering was cooked must be performed in a sacred place.

So this holy place was also a place where one did laundry, broke pottery, and washed and scrubbed.

My gem? Holiness is not about staying untouched by mess—it’s about how we respond to it.

The Temple is not imagined here as a pristine, museum-like space. It is a place of blood, stains, broken vessels, scrubbing, rinsing, and real physical labor. The priests are not expected to remain clean; they are expected to take responsibility for the residue of what they do. When blood transfers holiness to a garment or a vessel, that holiness demands attention—washing, breaking, scouring—done deliberately, in the sacred space itself.

We are also reminded that a holy community isn’t one that stays spotless—it’s one that knows how to clean, repair, and take responsibility for the messes it makes.

For me, one of the most vivid scenes in Macbeth is when his mother is scrubbing her hands saying, “out damned spot.” Some stains really never come out. Especially blood. Perhaps that’s why the daf wants us to wash any blood from our sin offerings right away, so they won’t set.

In the case of the blood of a sin offering designated for presentation that was sprayed on a garment, that garment requires laundering, as is stated with regard to a sin offering: “And when any of its blood shall be sprinkled on a garment, you shall launder that on which it shall be sprinkled in a sacred place” (Leviticus 6:20).

If we are truly to let go of guilt, we need to deal with our misdeed immediately. We need to change our ways, our clothes, and try to sid ourselves of the stain of sin . . . good luck.

Okay, sometimes I feel the daf is a reflection of my day. Today, I had a bris and the daf talks about circumcision (as a frequent mitzvah, meaning it’s mentioned 13 times in Genesis, or that babies are born every day, or, as the Or Same’aḥ argues, once a person is circumcised he remains in that state for his entire life and thereby lives in constant fulfillment of this mitzva).

It’s also the first night of Hanukkah and the daf starts discussing if oil can be offered in the Temple as a voluntary offering and the assumptions we can make it we see oil in the Temple.

Tonight is a holiday where we proudly shine light. Where we consume oil to remember the miracle of the oil.

One miracle I have is that Jewish text always speaks to me. May that be a iracle you experience as well. Happy Hanukkah!

Today’s daf continues to prioritize sacrificial offerings. It reminds us just how many sacrifices might be brought in a day. Those for the day, for sins, for births, for thanks, and the list goes on and on. While it focuses most on the Selena of what to do when a more frequent sacrifice is brought at the same time as a higher order sacrifice (it’s left undecided, the Rambam later rules it’s up to the priest to decide), what I find as my gem is how this scene is so like synagogue today. We all come with our own offerings. Some are happy, some in mourning, some praying for healing of a loved one, some lost… all in one space, all together. Our sanctuary overflows with our offerings.

Today’s daf asks a question: if multiple sacrifices are brought, in what order should they be sacrificed? (The same rule applies to the question of if one can only afford one sacrifice but need to bring multiple, which should they prioritize?)

What it teaches gives us a deep lesson.

MISHNA: Any offering that is more frequent than another precedes the other offering. Therefore, the daily offerings precede the additional offerings, which are sacrificed only on certain days. When Shabbat and the New Moon coincide, the additional Shabbat offerings precede the additional New Moon offerings. Likewise, the additional New Moon offerings precede the additional New Year offerings.

While this is talking about sacrifices, it teaches us something that is still relevant to how we serve God today. The every day things have priority. It’s not the holidays, or sporadic moments, it’s the daily showing up, the daily doing, the daily prayers and mitzvahs that really matter. They are the priority. They are what will bring us closer to God. Even more than the big events.

Today’s daf concerns two ideas: 1) what needs to be burned before midnight and what burns all night long, and 2) if the space above the altar sanctifies int he same way as the altar. It can all feel detached from our reality today. This inspired me to want to share a teaching from the Sefat Emet who looks at all aspects of sacrifice as metaphors for our soul’s connection to God.

Sefat Emet, Leviticus, Tzav 13:4, “Regarding the verse “This is the law of the burnt offering…” – a perpetual fire shall remain burning… This is the ultimate purpose of man’s service [of God]. Every day, a new illumination descends upon those who serve the Lord, as it says “and the priest shall kindle wood every morning…” This is a renewal of His goodness every day. It is an expression of love, a gift from the supreme kindness. However, an impression from this light must remain in one’s heart all day and night without being extinguished.”

Let’s try to keep it burning!

Today’s daf makes me feel seen.

We are told that ashes are removed from the altar at night. Therefore, every day, performing the removal at the rooster’s crow is sufficient. On Yom Kippur, due to the weakness of the High Priest, who must perform the entire Temple service on that day, they would hasten to remove the ashes from midnight.

Yes. You get it daf. Yom Kippur is a hard day for everyone. But for those leading the service, it’s often one of no sleep and standing on your feet all day long hoping your voice and knees don’t give out.

The daf reminds us that leaders have feelings too, have needs too, and also need to be tended to. We can shift things a little in anticipation of the very humanness of those we work with and encounter.

We learn most by what we witness. Perhaps the next best way to learn is by stories.

On our daf today, the gemara asks why the mishnah taught a story and what we can learn from it.

The mishna teaches: Rabbi Ḥanina, the deputy High Priest, says: My father would reject blemished animals from upon the altar. The Gemara asks: What is Rabbi Ḥanina teaching us? What can we learn from this story?

We can learn two things, 1) The Gemara answers: If you wish, say that Rabbi Ḥanina teaches us an incident, to express that this halakha was not only stated theoretically but applied practically as well. 2) And if you wish, say instead: What is the meaning of the term: Would reject? It means that he would remove blemished animals from the altar in a backhanded manner, i.e., privately rather than publicly, so as not to disgrace the honor of the altar.

How much did we learn by watching our parents? By watching our friends and colleagues? Here, Hanina teaches what he learned from watching his dad, sharinf=g those lessons with us today . . .