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

I remember seeing people with infants at bars and restaurants and marveling at how these parents seemed to not let the birth of their child mess with them doing what they wanted to do.

I, on the other hand, molded my life to nap-times and feeding times and pretty much had my new born upend my life until I came back from maternity leave. Today’s Mishna reminded me how some babies just seem to easily fit into their parents’ lifestyle, they lose nothing, while others upend everything.

MISHNA: In the case of one who said: I am hereby a nazirite when I will have a son, and he later said: I am hereby a nazirite from now for one hundred days, and he then began observing the one hundred days of his naziriteship, if a son is born to him up to seventy days from the start of his naziriteship he has not lost anything. However, if his son is born after seventy days, this negates the first seventy days, and he must observe a full hundred days after he completes the naziriteship for his son, since shaving cannot be performed after a period of less than thirty days.

TOSFOT explains that “he has not lost anything” if his son is born before day 70 means that he doesn’t need to add on any additional days other than the 100 days he already accepted because the 30-day nazarite period for his son is included in those 100 days (so each day counts for both the 100 days and the 30 days at the same time!). However, if his son is born after day 70, the 30-day term of nazariteship is not included in the 100-day nazariteship and he must make up the 100-day nazariteship by observing additional days after the end of the 30-day nazariteship for his son.

I am trying to make it clear, but it’s still confusing.

I am just struck by this little bugger who was born on day 70 – fitting perfectly into dad’s life. He has to change nothing about how he is living for this convenient offspring. How very thoughtful.

After the daf asks some questions about what to do if one term of nazariteship interrupts another (and if you become impure, does it interrupt just one or both terms), the Gemara adds a short, one-line question:

If one said: I am hereby like Moses on the seventh day of Adar, what is the halakha?

Huh?

So, things we need to know in order to be able to unpack this question. 1) Moses was born the on the 7th of Adar. 2) Moses died on the 7th of Adar.

So, the early rabbis explain that perhaps the Gemara’s question is whether the person who says this intends to make himself a Nazir, since many Jews made themselves Nazirs on the seventh of Adar, the day of Moses’s passing, due to their profound grief. (Interesting interpretation of what might have happened.) Rashi teaches that perhaps this person is saying a vow to become a nazir because, just as Moses was dead and could no longer drink wine, neither can a nazir. Whereas the Rosh says that maybe this means it’s like the day of Moses’ birth and the person saying they are like Moses on the 7th of Adar means to celebrate.

I recently went to a celebration of life for a friends mother who passed. It was absolutely beautiful. It happened to have been her 80th birthday. She was born and died 80 years apart but within days of that date. What will the family do on that date in the future? Celebrate or mourn?

What do any of us do when we lose someone? Celebrate what we had or mourn what we lost? Hopefully we can find it in ourselves to do both.

Sometimes there is a thin line between a ride-or-die friend and a yes-man. You want to be your won person but you also want to know who will be there for you. Today’s daf features a friend who I think takes their role too far.

What is the halakha if one said: I am hereby a nazirite when I will have a son, and another heard him and said: And I? What is the meaning of the second person’s statement? Is it to be understood that here too, he is speaking of himself, meaning: I shall be a nazirite when I will have a son of my own, or perhaps this is what he is saying: I love you as you love yourself; I would be as happy as you at the birth of your son, and I too will be a nazirite when you have a son.

So, they are wondering, is this person simply mimicking the moves of their friend (person A) and just like their friend promises to be a Nazir on the birth of their son, so too the friend will also one day become a Nazir after they have their son (person B’s). Or, is it asking if person B will go become a nazir with person A when person A has a son?

Ben Reḥumi continues: If you say that anything he says to another in front of him should be understood in light of the fact that the matter is embarrassing for him, the second person is likely to mean that he will become a nazirite upon the birth of a child to the first person, as he will be embarrassed to seem indifferent about the birth of the child to the person standing before him, then the following question arises: If one said: I am hereby a nazirite when so-and-so will have a son, and another heard and said: And I, what is the halakha? Do we say that since the second person did not vow in front of the subject of the first person’s vow, he therefore speaks of himself when he says: And I, meaning that he will be a nazirite when he has a son of his own? Or perhaps this is what he is saying to him: I love him as you do, and I too will be a nazirite when he has a son. As in the previous cases, no answer was found for this question, and the dilemma remains unresolved.

Wowzers. So, no resolution, what did the person mean to vow? To be a nazir at the brith of their son or their friends son? Amazing how it says it would be embarrassing for him not to jump on the nazir bandwagon for his friend. Really? Might it also be embarrassing that he become a nazir when his friend didn’t ask him? Maybe he is stealing his friends moment?

But maybe not. Maybe this is a sign of true friendship – not just showing compassion for your friend, but being in it completely with them.

(But as a mom, I would rather both these men vow to take the night shift that go serve the Temple. Leaving the house for a month when a new-born arrives – how convenient.)

Today’s daf really pushes the boundaries of delegation!

Rabbi Yitzḥak bar Yosef said that Rabbi Yoḥanan said: One who says to his agent: Go out and betroth a woman for me, without specifying a particular woman; from that moment onward the one who appointed the agent is forbidden to all the women in the world until he finds out which woman the agent betrothed. There is a presumption that an agent performs his assigned agency and that he has betrothed a woman for him, and since the agent did not clarify to him which woman he chose, he therefore does not know which woman is the one betrothed to him.

Wow! As someone who has trouble delegating and trusting things will get done – this is shocking! Here a man delegates an agent to find a wife for him. In the meantime, he cannot date (or sleep or marry) another woman as he might accidentally connect with one of the women’s female relatives (and therefore, forbidden women to him).

I see this and think, 1) Wow, he must have really trusted that agent; 2) Maybe that was a better way to find a spouse than the apps that people use now-a-days; and 3) Maybe I should be more trusting in my delegating. If someone can trust another to find them a partner in life, maybe I can trust when it comes to things of lesser importance.

A new day, a new daf, a new mishna:

MISHNA: If they poured one a cup of wine and he said: I am hereby a nazirite and therefore will refrain from it, he is a full-fledged nazirite who must observe all the halakhot of naziriteship. An incident occurred with regard to a certain woman who was intoxicated from wine, and they poured a cup for her and she said: I am hereby a nazirite and therefore will refrain from it. The Sages said: This woman did not intend to accept naziriteship but rather, meant to say: It is hereby forbidden to me as an offering. She vowed against deriving benefit from that cup alone, since she did not want to drink any more.

Should we be held accountable for what we agree to when we’re drunk?

The Gemara pictures a man in the same situation as the drunk woman. The Gemara explains that the man said he would be a Nazir because he maintains: If I specify this cup, they will bring me another cup and aggravate me with it. It is better that I say to them this statement, which is definitive to them, and they will understand that I do not want to drink any more wine.

I can’t help but read this and think of binge drinking and the excessive amounts of alcohol college students (and others) are forced/expected to imbibe. I remember friends pledging fraternities who were forced to drink past the point of blacking out and vomiting. Peer pressure can be a serious problem. How do we help our young people say no? How do we make others respectful of those who know their own limits?

Here, they are pledging another type of fraternity in order to get their peers to respect the fact that they’ve had enough . . .

He loves me . . . he loves me not. . . remember that thing where you would pluck petals from a flower to determine if your crush liked you back? There was an elementary school behind my house growing up. I used to shoot free-throws and if I made it then it meant whatever I was wondering about was true (he loved me, I was going to make the team, etc.). It’s all quite ridiculous, but I still find myself doing this (“If I guess this right it means I will win the lottery!).

While the Torah warns against divination and trying to predict the future, the daf seems to know that it’s in our nature to rely on signs to give us pushes in certain directions.

MISHNA: If one said: This cow said: I am hereby a nazirite if I stand up; or if he said: This door says: I am hereby a nazirite if I am opened, Beit Shammai say he is a nazirite, and Beit Hillel say he is not a nazirite. Rabbi Yehuda said: Even when Beit Shammai say that the vow is effective, they say so only with regard to one who said: This cow is hereby forbidden to me as an offering if it stands up.

GEMARA: The Gemara asks: Does a cow speak? What is the meaning of the statement: A cow said: I am hereby a nazirite? Rami bar Ḥama said: With what are we dealing here? We are dealing with a case where there was a prone cow before him, and he tried, without success, to cause it to stand, and he said: This cow thinks it will not stand; I am hereby a nazirite and therefore will refrain from its flesh if it stands of its own accord, and in fact it stood of its own accord.

Here we see that a person is saying “if this cow stands up” or “if this door is opened” then I will become a nazirite (Bet Shammai says you hold them to it, Beit Hillel says you don’t).

Makes me feel like I am not so crazy when I look to signs. But the gem is the lesson that I have learned with trying to rely on signs. . .

If the person who is waiting for the cow to stand, or the door to open, gives a very short window or a very long window, then they can recognize what they really want. If it’s a short window, they don’t want to be a nazir; if it’s a long window, they do want it.

I would miss the first shot (he doesn’t like me!) and then say, “2 out of 3.” We often know what we want, and we only want to see the signs that point us in the direction we are already headed.

Today’s daf grapples with this Mishna:

MISHNA: If one says: I am hereby a nazirite and therefore will refrain from dried figs and from cakes of dried figs, Beit Shammai say: His statement renders him a full-fledged nazirite, and his addition: From dried figs, is insignificant, as this fruit is not included in the prohibitions of a nazirite, which include only products of the grapevine. And Beit Hillel say: He is not a nazirite, since he did not accept naziriteship upon himself. Rabbi Yehuda said: Even when Beit Shammai said that this vow takes effect, they said that only in a case where one said that he meant: They are hereby forbidden to me as an offering. In that case it is as though he took a vow rendering the figs forbidden to him. However, Beit Shammai concede that although the vow takes effect, it is not a vow of naziriteship.

I love this. What does refraining from figs have to do with being a nazir? Did he mean it? Are both parts of his vow valid (Shammai says yes) or only part (Hillel)?

What a great text to talk about whataboutism. Whataboutism is a tactic in an argument where a person or group responds to an accusation by deflection (why are you calling our country out on humans rights abuses when there are so many in the US?). Instead of addressing the point made, they counter it with “but what about X?”. Whataboutism is worrisome because it pushes aside personal responsibility; instead of taking responsibility for what we have said or done, we distract or redirect with our whataboutery.

On the daf, the rabbis get so bogged down with the vow about figs, they are distracted from the one about Nazirs!

The message is always to mean what you say and today we especially emphasize taking ownership for your actions and statements.

“Five hundred, twenty five thousand, six hundred minutes
Five hundred, twenty five thousand moments so dear
Five hundred, twenty five thousand, six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?”

(Two days ago I was quoting “Hair,” today, “Rent.”) Our daf debates how to measure a year.

If one says: I am hereby a nazirite in accordance with the number of days in a solar year, he counts 365 consecutive naziriteships, in accordance with the number of days in a solar year. Rabbi Yehuda said: There was an incident where someone took this vow and observed 365 consecutive terms of naziriteship. Once he completed all these terms of naziriteship, he died. . . The Gemara asks: Granted, if you say that he accepts upon himself many naziriteships, that is the reason for his statement that once he completed all these terms of naziriteship he died. However, if you say that Rabbi Yehuda does not agree with the unattributed opinion of the mishna and holds that he accepted upon himself one term of naziriteship lasting 365 days, is there completion here at all? Would he have died?

By the way, 365 terms of nazariteship are equivalent to 30 years (easy math there). The question is whether this person meant to serve 1 year, 30 years, or permanently as a nazir. But the way the rabbis formulate it, it asks us that same question we get from Rent: How do you measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles
In laughter, in strife

In five hundred, twenty five thousand, six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in a life?

How about love?

Two short gems. The first:

MISHNA: If one said: I am hereby a nazirite for one long term, or: I am hereby a nazirite for one short term, or even if one said: I am hereby a nazirite from now until the end of the world, in all these cases he is a nazirite for thirty days. GEMARA: The mishna taught that even one who said: I am hereby a nazirite from now until the end of the world, becomes a nazirite for thirty days. The Gemara asks: Why does he become a nazirite for only thirty days? Didn’t he say: From now until the end of the world? The Gemara answers: This is what he is saying: Because of the difficulties it entails, it is as though this matter of naziriteship were as lengthy for me as the time from now until the end of the world.

Hahaha! He didn’t mean that he intended to be a permanent Nazarite, it just sucks SO MUCH that it feels like an eternity. (I hear you, sometimes reading the Talmud can feel like it takes an eternity – yet it’s only 7.5 years . . . )

The second:

The Gemara comments: In this regard, Rav holds in accordance with the opinion of Rabbi Akiva, who derives meaning from superfluous language.

This is my gem! Why? Stensaltz reads this as teaching that “Rabbi Akiva believes that if one uses unnecessary words, it is inferred that he intended to add something.” Snap! Be concise! It you talk to much, people are going to tread into it . . . like Rabbi Akiva. God forbid you’re talking just to hear yourself speak – unheard of n the Talmud! It all packs meaning and will be read into – whether you like it or not.

Today’s daf debates the length of time one commits to be a temporary Nazir. Yesterday, the daf began to focus in on a disagreement between Rav Matana and bar Pada who teach that the standard length of nezirut is 30 days. However, Rav Matana believes that nezirut is 30 FULL days – so you cut your hair on day 31; bar Pada that the standard length of nezirut is 30 days but once you hit 30 your’e done and can cut your hair on day 30.

Again, the gem is the importance of semantics and being clear in what you mean. So many fights are because our understanding is simply different than the other persons. So many problems can be more easily resolved when we take hte time to define terms and expectations.