Today’s daf reminds me of a story used to see if someone is ready to study Talmud. I will share that story after the gem:
Shmuel’s father raised a dilemma before Shmuel: If the offering was standing inside the Temple courtyard and its legs were outside, what is the halakha? May one slaughter it? Shmuel said to him: It is written: “That they may bring them to the Lord” (Leviticus 17:5), indicating that the offering may not be slaughtered unless all of it is inside. His father asked him further: If one suspended the animal in the air and slaughtered it, what is the halakha? Shmuel said to him: It is valid. His father said to him: You are mistaken. We require that the slaughter occur on the side of the altar (see Leviticus 1:11), and this is not considered to fulfill that requirement. His father asked him further: If the one slaughtering the animal was suspended in the air and slaughtered the offering while it was on the ground, what is the halakha? Shmuel said to him: It is not valid. His father said to him: You are mistaken. We require only that the slaughter occur on the side of the altar, but not that the one who slaughters be on the side of the altar. His father asked him further: If the priest was suspended in the air and collected the blood of the offering in that position, what is the halakha? Shmuel said to him: It is valid. His father said to him: You are mistaken. This is not a normal manner of ministration. His father asked him further: If the priest suspended the offering in the air after slaughter and collected its blood, what is the halakha? Shmuel said to him: It is not valid. His father said to him: You are mistaken. We require only that the slaughter occur on the side of the altar, but not that collection of the blood occur on the side of the altar.
Poor Shmuel! No matter what he says, his father says he is wrong. Which reminds me of a story . . .
Rabbi Joseph Telushkin recounts this story of Talmudic logic in his book Jewish Humor: What The Best Jewish Jokes Say About the Jews:
A young man in his mid-twenties knocks on the door of the noted scholar Rabbi Shwartz. “My name is Sean Goldstein,” he says. “I’ve come to you because I wish to study Talmud.”
“Do you know Aramaic?” the rabbi asks.
“No,” replies the young man.
“Hebrew?” asks the Rabbi.
“No,” replies the young man again.
“Have you studied Torah?” asks the Rabbi, growing a bit irritated.
“No, Rabbi. But don’t worry. I graduated Berkeley summa cum laude in philosophy, and just finished my doctoral dissertation at Harvard on Socratic logic. So now, I would just like to round out my education with a little study of the Talmud.”
“I seriously doubt,” the rabbi says, “that you are ready to study Talmud. It is the deepest book of our people. If you wish, however, I am willing to examine you in logic, and if you pass that test I will teach you Talmud.”
The young man agrees.
Rabbi Shwartz holds up two fingers. “Two men come down a chimney. One comes out with a clean face, the other comes out with a dirty face. Which one washes his face?”
The young man stares at the rabbi. “Is that the test in logic?”
The rabbi nods.
”The one with the dirty face washes his face,“ he answers wearily.
“Wrong. The one with the clean face washes his face. Examine the simple logic. The one with the dirty face looks at the one with the clean face and thinks his face is clean. The one with the clean face looks at the one with the dirty face and thinks his face is dirty. So the one with the clean face washes his face.”
“Very clever,” Goldstein says. “Give me another test.”
The rabbi again holds up two fingers. “Two men come down a chimney. One comes out with a clean face, the other comes out with a dirty face. Which one washes his face?”
“We have already established that. The one with the clean face washes his face.”
“Wrong. Each one washes his face. Examine the simple logic. The one with the dirty face looks at the one with the clean face and thinks his face is clean. The one with the clean face looks at the one with the dirty face and thinks his face is dirty. So the one with the clean face washes his face. When the one with the dirty face sees the one with the clean face wash his face, he also washes his face. So each one washes his face.”
“I didn’t think of that,” says Goldstein. It’s shocking to me that I could make an error in logic. Test me again.”
The rabbi holds up two fingers. “Two men come down a chimney. One comes out with a clean face, the other comes out with a dirty face. Which one washes his face?”
“Each one washes his face.”
“Wrong. Neither one washes his face. Examine the simple logic. The one with the dirty face looks at the one with the clean face and thinks his face is clean. The one with the clean face looks at the one with the dirty face and thinks his face is dirty. But when the one with the clean face sees the one with the dirty face doesn’t wash his face, he also doesn’t wash his face. So neither one washes his face.”
Goldstein is desperate. “I am qualified to study Talmud. Please give me one more test.”
He groans, though, when the rabbi lifts two fingers. “Two men come down a chimney. One comes out with a clean face, the other comes out with a dirty face. Which one washes his face?”
“Neither one washes his face.”
“Wrong. Do you now see, Sean, why Socratic logic is an insufficient basis for studying Talmud? Tell me, how is it possible for two men to come down the same chimney, and for one to come out with a clean face and the other with a dirty face? Don’t you see? The whole question is “narishkeit”, foolishness, and if you spend your whole life trying to answer foolish questions, all your answers will be foolish, too.”