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

It’s so hard to accept help. Most people want to give – but not to receive. When I went through my cancer treatment, one thing I learned was – that even if I didn’t want to let people help, it was a kindness to allow others to help me. I tell all those I council who go through treatment to let their friends help. Let them buy groceries or pick up dry cleaning or make dinner one night. Why, when they can just order these things on-line? Well, because their friends want to do something, they want to help, and it’s a mitzvah to let them. We see this rule on today’s daf:

Rabbi Ḥiyya bar Abba said that Rabbi Yoḥanan said: Anyone who prevents his student from serving him, it is as if he withheld from him kindness, as it is stated: “To him that is ready to faint [lamas], from his friend kindness is due” (Job 6:14). Rabbi Yoḥanan interprets this to mean that one who prevents [memis] another from performing acts on his behalf, prevents him from performing the mitzva of kindness. Rav Naḥman bar Yitzḥak says: He even removes from the student the fear of Heaven, as it is stated in the continuation of the verse: “Even to one who forsakes the fear of the Almighty.”

Here, we learn that a teacher needs to allow his student to serve him, even if this might make the teacher feel somewhat uncomfortable. A student who serves her master is given the opportunity to perform an act of kindness – a mitzvah! Rav Nahman bar Yotzhak adds that serving one’s teacher instills the fear of God.

The gem? Even when we feel uncomfortable allowing others do things for us, we shoudl remember that we are allowing them to do a mitzvah, an act of kindness. We shoudl remember that it’s not just about us and what we need, but what the other person needs as well.

We all know the stories of men who are addicted to gambling, or who invest too much in a project that goes south, and who lose everything – not just for themselves, but for the whole family. Maybe that’s why I was so interested in today’s daf. It all has to do with this cyclical Mishna:

MISHNA: In a case of one who was married to two women and sold his field, and the first wife wrote to the purchaser: I do not have any legal dealings or involvement with you, then the second wife, may appropriate the field from the purchaser as payment of her marriage contract. Then, the first wife can appropriate the field from the second. The purchaser can then appropriate the field from the first wife. They continue to do so according to this cycle [ḥalila] until they agree on a compromise between them. And so too, with regard to a creditor, and so too, with regard to a female creditor.

Basically, the two women and the creditor all have a claim against the field as all are owed money. So, whose field is it? It seems obvious that the woman who agreed to sell it wouldn’t have a case, but the Gemara argues:

And if the first wife wrote this to him, what of it? Isn’t it taught in a baraita: One who says to another, e.g., if a field is jointly owned and one partner says to the other: I have no legal dealings or involvement with regard to this field, or: I have no connection to it, or: I have withdrawn from it, has said nothing, as such declarations have no legal validity. . . Let the woman say afterward: I did it only to please my husband, as I saw that he wished to sell the field and I did not want to quarrel with him, but I did not mean it seriously.

Anyway – the discussion takes up the majority of the daf and it’s very detailed and we can get lost in the weeds, the zoom out that I want to do is that: the wives have to okay the sale of the field in order for the sale to be valid with the women having no claim against it!

Would this prevent a man from “losing the farm” on a hand of poker or an investment gone south? Maybe, maybe not. But it certainly implies that a woman has to buy in to her husband’s business dealings and that if she doesn’t – she can have her day in court and may be able to win back for herself what he lost for them all.

Today we get an interesting story where a mother writes a deed to one son, and then the other – in the same day! But then, both sons want to claim it solely for themselves. What makes it extra spicy? Both sons are great rabbis who then go and get other great rabbis to take sides!

The Gemara relates that the mother of Rami bar Ḥama wrote a deed in the morning transferring ownership of her property to Rami bar Ḥama, and in the evening she wrote another deed transferring her property to another of her sons, Mar Ukva bar Ḥama.

Mom! What are you doing? She has now promised the property to both sons. So, who gets the property?

Rami bar Ḥama came before Rav Sheshet and the latter established his right to the property.

Okay! One son brings his case to Rav Sheshet who rules that since Rami bar Hama received his gift first that he gets to keep it.

Mar Ukva, his brother, came before Rav Naḥman and the latter established his right to the property.

Oh no! The second brother comes to Rav Nahman who has now ruled in his favor! Now both rabbis have rabbis backing them up on their claim to the land!

Rav Sheshet came before Rav Naḥman and said to him: What is the reason that the Master did this, i.e., why did you issue this ruling? Rav Naḥman said to him: And what is the reason that the Master did this, i.e., why did you rule as you did?

Both authorities want to know why they ruled the way they ruled.

Rav Sheshet said to him: Because Rami bar Ḥama’s deed preceded that of Mar Ukva.

He got his earlier in the day! It’s his!

Rav Naḥman said to Rav Sheshet: Is that to say that we are sitting in Jerusalem, that we write the hours on our legal documents? The halakha is that in any place where the hours are not recorded on legal documents, it does not matter when during the day a document was written.

so, since she told them both in the smae day, the first son has no more of a right to the property than the second.

Rav Sheshet asked Rav Naḥman: But what is the reason that the Master did this, ruling as you did? Rav Naḥman said to him: It was the discretion of the judges, i.e., I ruled this way since it seemed to me that this is the way the mother wanted it.

Maybe, since the mother came to him after his brother – her thinking now is the more accurate!

Rav Sheshet said to Rav Naḥman: I also applied the principle of the discretion of the judges and ruled as I did.

so, what to do? These cases are decided by judges and now two authorities have weighed in with opposite outcomes . . . or are they both authorities?

Rav Naḥman said to him: One response to your point is that I am a judge, and the Master is not a judge, as Rav Sheshet did not serve in the official capacity of a judge. Furthermore, at the outset, you did not arrive at your conclusion for this reason, but due to your own theory with regard to the dating of the documents, which proved to be incorrect.

Bam! Nahman for the win.

Rav Nahman defeats Rav Sheshet by argueing that he is an acutual judge who adjudicates cases while Rav Sheshet is simply a rabbi. Likewise, he points out that Rav Sheshet based his reasoning on the mother having made out the deed to Rami bar Ḥama first, but when it’s in the same day, order does not matter unless you’re in Jerusalem.

What a fun passage. What gems to take from it? I guess that, when you’re trying to argue your point, make sure that the “big guns” you bring in are actually recognized authorities (in this case, not just a rabbi, but a judge as well). And two – when your mom leaves you something, don’t be surprised when she promised the same thing to your sibling. It happen all the time.

Good thing I love math – because today’s daf requires some high mathematical thinking. Graphs to follow this Mishna text:

n the case of one who was married to three women and died and the marriage contract of this wife was for one hundred dinars and the marriage contract of this second wife was for two hundred dinars, and the marriage contract of this third wife was for three hundred, and all three contracts were issued on the same date so that none of the wives has precedence over any of the others, and the total value of the estate is only one hundred dinars, the wives divide the estate equally. If there were two hundred dinars in the estate, the one whose marriage contract was for one hundred dinars takes fifty dinars, while those whose contracts were for two hundred and three hundred dinars take three dinars of gold each, which are the equivalent of seventy-five silver dinars. If there were three hundred dinars in the estate, the one whose marriage contract was for one hundred dinars takes fifty dinars, the one whose contract was for two hundred dinars takes one hundred dinars, and the one whose contract was for three hundred dinars takes six dinars of gold, the equivalent of one hundred and fifty silver dinars.

What’s going on? You might expect that if wife #1 gets 100, wife #2 200 and wife #3 three hundred that no matter the sum, wife one would receive 1/6th, wife two 1/3 and wife three 1/2. But no! It depends on which hundred dinars we are discussing!

For the first hundred dinars each wife had an equal claim. So for the first one hundred, each wife has a claim of 1/3. For the second hundred – only the second and third wife have a claim! So, for the second hundred wife one gets 0, wives two and three get 1/2. For the third hundred (if he leaves it). Only the third wife would have had any claim. Only if the estate was worth 600 or more would each wife claim what they were promised.

This math is wacky! Robert Aumann, famed mathematician and recipient of the Nobel prize, deemed this the theory of “contested sums.”

Is it fair? Maybe from the first wife’s perspective, but less so from the third. Or maybe the fact that the third wife’s ketubah was worth three times the first is the real injustice! (Or maybe that this poor guy took on three wives is the real problem here.) Either way, I love fun with math and was kinda pumped to have an interesting perspective on how to approach the debt on today’s daf.

The following graph displays the claim of each wife verses the sum of the estate.

	Wife 1	Wife 2	Wife 3
100	33	33	33
200	50	75	75
300	50	100	150

Today’s daf discusses what happens when you’re sold a piece of land and then a debt collector comes to take it from you because the person who sold the land to you owes them a debt. In this discussion we get a great little nugget of wisdom:

However, once he has taken possession, Shimon cannot renege on the deal, because at that point the seller, Reuven, can say to him: You agreed to a sack [ḥaita] of knots and you received it. . .

I love this expression! It reminds us to be careful who we do business with. We might be inheriting a sack of knots and will have to figure out how to untangle ourselves.

It’s traditional to light a yahrzeit candle on Kol Nidre as the day of Yom Kippur begins in honor of any parents or immediate family members we may have lost. Today, many will sit in a yizkor service, and will remember their loved ones and all the ways that they live on through us.

Today’s daf discusses that, we may not only inherit our eyes and personality from a parent – we may also inherit their debt.

The Gemara relates that there was a certain man who had a creditor with a claim of one hundred dinars against him. He died and left a small tract of land worth fifty dinars. The creditor came and repossessed it. The orphans came and gave him fifty dinars and redeemed the property from him. He returned and repossessed it again in order to collect the remainder of the debt.

What!!!! He took the land twice!

They came before Abaye to complain. He said to them: It is a mitzva for orphans to settle their father’s debt. Consequently, with the money you paid the creditor initially, you performed a mitzva, as you partially settled a debt your father owed. However, this payment did not cancel the lien on the property, and so now, when he repossesses the land, he is repossesses it lawfully.

Abaye divides the two payments into two categories—with the first payment the orphans were fulfilling the mitzvah of paying back their father’s debts. With the second, the creditor was legally seizing property that belonged to him. Thus the creditor’s actions are confirmed. Still sounds pretty crappy for those orphans.

The Gemara notes: And we said this ruling only in a case where the orphans did not say to the creditor: These fifty dinars are payment for the small tract of land. However, if they said to him: These fifty dinars are payment for the small tract of land, they have successfully removed him from the land and he has no further claim to it.

Here we go – the Talmud finds a work-around for the orphans. As long as they say to the creditor that the fifty zuz they are giving him are for the land, then they have successfully removed his right to the land and he cannot come back and charge them again.

Not every state requires heirs to pay off their parents’ debts. It’s not the most beautiful of dafs on this holy day.

But, it does have us think about who we have lost, and what it is that we will leave behind when we pass away – the good and the bad – and that’s perfect for Yom Kippur.

Next weekend, I am doing a vow renewal for a couple that has been together 25 years. When they married, the wife wasn’t Jewish. But this time, she is! We will have a chuppah, and for the first time, they will have a ketubah.

On today’s daf we read: in the case of a convert whose wife converted with him, the marriage contract (the ketubah!!!) that she had as a gentile is valid, for on this condition he maintained her as his wife.

Here, the rabbis are discussing that, after this couple converts, they may remarry as Jews – but their original ketubah is still valid.

What? Don’t only Jews have ketubot?

No matter what faith you are, or even if you are no faith at all, when you marry you are bound, not just in love (if you’re lucky) but financially and through every day acts of what it means to have a partner. Again and again, Ketubot reminds us of our obligations to our partners. Here, we are reminded again – that even if both couples convert, even if both change and grow – they are still bound to one another and still obligated to one another.

25 years ago this couple was in their early 20s. They have moved, struggled with fertility, adopted four children, started different businesses and changed careers. And, they have both come home to Judaism. Soon they will receive a ketubah and that is beautiful. It does not replace what they committed to one another – it only adds.

There is a tradition that, when you are getting a Jewish divorce (called a get), that the rabbi will tear the get after the ceremony is complete.

Strange, I know. Normally, if we are tearing up a document – we are showing that the document is not worth anything. So, why do we do this? Well, today’s daf teaches us why.

Rav Naḥman said to Rav Huna: According to Rav, who said that if she produces a bill of divorce she can collect the main sum of her marriage contract, shouldn’t there be a concern lest she produce the bill of divorce in this court and collect with it, and again produce it in a different court and collect with it?

The issue at hand is that the get is the divorce settlement and is a legal document. Rav is imagining a woman taking that document, which entitles her to money as part of the divorce agreement, to one court and receiving what is due to her. Then, she might take that same document to another court and say she never got paid, produce the get, and get paid again! What to do? Normally, a person would have to hold on to their receipt when a debt is paid, so the husband, perhaps, should hold onto the receipt. But what if he loses it? He shouldn’t have to old on to it for the rest of his life. But, a woman needs to hold on to her get in order for her to ever be able to marry again. So, how can they prevent any abuse?

And should you say that we tear it, as the court does to other documents that have been paid, she will not let us do so, for she will say: I do not want you to tear the bill of divorce because I need it, so that when I want to marry again I can prove with it that I am divorced.

Normally, they would tear up a receipt of debt so that the collector does not collect twice. But she needs it to prove she is no longer married to that man.

Rav Huna responded: The solution is that we tear it and write the following on its back: We tore this bill of divorce, not because it is an invalid bill of divorce, but in order that she not return and collect with it another time.

The solution is to put a small tear in the get and then for the court to write on the back of the get that they have torn it up in order to prevent her from collecting twice. They did not tear it because it was an invalid get.

And this is what we still do today!

You can’t run away from your debt. That’s the message of today’s daf.

First, we see that, if a man divorces his wife while being abroad – he cannot get out of paying her ketubah! Even if he is not present, she can collect from his estate as long as she swears she had not previously received payment. Why did they rule this way – “because the Sages wanted men to find favor in the eyes of women.” Love it!

The mishna teaches that one who comes to collect her marriage contract when not in her husband’s presence can collect it only by means of an oath. Rav Aḥa Sar HaBira said: An incident came before Rabbi Yitzḥak in Antioch, and he said: They taught this halakha only with regard to the wife’s marriage contract; she may collect her marriage contract in her husband’s absence, because the Sages wanted men to find favor in the eyes of women. In order to ensure that women would want to marry, the Sages instituted decrees with regard to a marriage contract that are for the woman’s benefit. However, a creditor does not have the right to collect his debt even with an oath if the borrower is absent, in case he has already been paid.

Okay, sounds like this is a special arrangement just for the wives (or x-wives) and not for debt collectors, but wait!

And Rava said that Rav Naḥman said: Even a creditor can collect payment with an oath in the borrower’s absence, so that each and every person will not take his friend’s money by means of a loan and go and reside in a country overseas to prevent the lender from collecting the money from his property. And if that were to occur, you would be locking the door in the face of borrowers, as no one would be willing to lend them money.

I love this picture of this. A man taking out a bunch of loans and then going and living it up abroad. Not so fast guy! You can’t run away from what you owe. You can’t run away from your problems! If you could, that would be an even bigger problem!

So, I guess today’s message is just that: You can’t run away from your problems.

I learned a new word on today’s daf, and I mean a new English word: vitiate. Vitiate means, “destroy or impair the legal validity of.” The Mishnah says, MISHNA: A woman who vitiates her marriage contract can collect only by an oath.

What’s happening? A woman claims that she received only part of her marriage contract (an example given is a woman who has a marriage contract of 1,000 dinars who claims she has received 100). By claiming she received even part, she vitiates her ketubah! What does this mean? She is admitting that it’s no longer an accurate document. So, now the rabbis don’t know what to do. Do they believe her because she is claiming it is worth less than it says and why would she lie? Or, do they suspect that the husband paid it all and she is trying to get more out of him?

The real gem here, besides the vocabulary lesson, is the seriousness of taking oaths. Asking this woman to swear is something the rabbis do not want to do unless they have to. In fact, they begin to search for reasons not to make her have to swear.

While we make promises and break them all the time, this is not the Jewish way. In Judaism, we take our promises seriously. So seriously that we begin Yom Kippur with Kol Nidrey, asking God to not take all the promises and oaths we are about to say as real vows and oaths. We know we are about to make promises we can’t keep, so we ask that our vows not be vows and our oaths not be oaths.

A strange way to start a holy day – but an honest one. We shouldn’t make promises we can’t keep and our word should be trusted. It can only be trusted if we don’t give it except on rare occasions and then follow through.