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

Today’s daf teaches us something beautiful about how offerings were waved in the Temple. The Torah describes the owner of the sacrifice bringing the offering, but the priests also have a role. The Gemara explains how this worked:

The priest places his hands beneath the hands of the owner and waves the offering together with the owner.

The person bringing the offering does not stand alone. Their hands hold the sacrifice, but the priest’s hands are placed underneath, supporting the movement.

The spiritual message is powerful: no one has to approach holiness alone. Even when we bring our own offering—our prayers, our repentance, our gratitude—there are people helping to lift it up. Teachers, clergy, friends, and community place their hands beneath ours, steadying and guiding the offering as it rises.

Sometimes we are the one holding the offering. And sometimes our role is simply to place our hands underneath someone else’s and help with the lift.

It’s pretty amazing that we’ve made it 60 pages into menachot without discussing HOW to present the meal offering until today.

MISHNA: There are four categories of meal offerings: Those that require bringing near, a rite that requires the priests to carry the offering in their hands and bring it near the southwest corner of the altar, but do not require waving; those that require both bringing near and waving; those that require waving but not bringing near; and those that require neither waving nor bringing near.

“Waving” is surprisingly similar to shaking the lulav (as we do on the Jewish holiday of Sukkot) – you extend the offering front, right, back, left horizontally and then move it up then down. “Bringing near” means the priest takes the meal offering close to the southwest corner of the altar before removing the handful that will be burned.

Of course, what needs to be waved, brought near, both, or neither would be depicted best via Venn Diagram, but that didn’t work well yesterday.

The gem can be found in the fact that not every offering is brought the same way. The Torah seems comfortable with the idea that there are multiple paths to bringing something holy before God. Sometimes our service requires great motion and display, reaching in every direction. Other times, holiness is simply about drawing a little closer.

On our daf today, the rabbis outline what sacrifices are offered with frankincense, with oil, with both, and with neither.

MISHNA: There are four types of meal offerings: Those that require both oil and frankincense, those that require oil but not frankincense, those that require frankincense but not oil, and those that require neither frankincense nor oil. The mishna elaborates: And these are the meal offerings that require both oil and frankincense: The fine-flour meal offering, as it is stated: “And he shall pour oil upon it, and put frankincense thereon” (Leviticus 2:1); the meal offering prepared in a pan (see Leviticus 2:5–6); the meal offering prepared in a deep pan (see Leviticus 2:7–10); and the meal offering baked in an oven, which can be brought in the form of loaves or in the form of wafers (see Leviticus 2:4). Additional meal offerings that require both oil and frankincense are the meal offering of priests; the meal offering of the anointed priest, i.e., the griddle-cake offering brought by the High Priest every day, half in the morning and half in the evening; the meal offering of a gentile; a meal offering brought by women; and the omer meal offering (see Leviticus 23:15). The meal offering brought with libations that accompany burnt offerings and peace offerings requires oil but does not require frankincense. The shewbread requires frankincense but does not require oil. The two loaves brought on the festival of Shavuot (see Leviticus 23:17), the meal offering of a sinner, and the meal offering of jealousy brought by a sota require neither oil nor frankincense.

So, you know the gem is going to be . . . Venn diagram!!

(I asked Gemini to make it. Not quite right, but much faster then it would take me to make it myself haha)

Our daf today teaches that you cannot bring offerings with leaven or with honey in them. There is one exception for both – the loaves of Shavuot and perhaps the first fruits may have honey (which can be derived from fruit) but only as a garnish – not the main sacrifice.

So, the question is why can’t we bring leaven or honey as part of a sacrifice?

The Torah says: “No meal offering that you bring to the Lord shall be made with leaven; for you shall burn no leaven nor any honey as an offering made by fire to the Lord.” (Leviticus 2:11)

On the surface, this sounds like a technical ritual rule. But many commentators see something deeper.

Leaven inflates dough, and honey overpowers flavor with sweetness. The Sefer HaChinuch explains that the Temple service avoided things that dominate or exaggerate. Instead, offerings were meant to reflect balance and moderation.

The gem: The altar represents our attempt to bring our best selves before God. The prohibition of leaven and honey suggests that holiness is not found in excess—neither in arrogance that puffs us up nor in sweetness that hides reality. Instead, sacred life asks for humility, balance, and authenticity.

Once, when I was a kid, I took a big bite out of the raw chicken my mom had on the counter that was waiting to be seasoned. I didn’t get sick – but she almost did seeing me! It’s very important to cook your food, especially if it might have e-coli or bacteria. On our daf today, the rabbis are discussing not “working” while making food and the idea of meat maybe sitting on the fire and not being flipped (as that would qualify as work). In doing so we find out about a bandit who was always on the run. He was on the run so much he didn’t have time to fully cook his meat. This guy becomes a common term for meat that is only partially cooked.

Rabba bar bar Ḥana says that Rabbi Yoḥanan says: In the case of one who placed meat on top of coals on Shabbat, if he subsequently turned over the meat he is liable for cooking on Shabbat, and if he did not turn over the meat he is exempt. The Gemara asks: What are the circumstances of this case? If we say that this was a situation where if he does not turn over the meat it would not cook, then it is obvious that if he does not turn it over he is exempt. Rather, it must be referring to a case where even if he does not turn over the meat it would nevertheless cook. But if so, why isn’t he liable for merely placing the meat on the coals, despite the fact that he did not turn it over? The Gemara answers: No, it is necessary to state this halakha in a case where if he does not turn over the meat it would cook on one side only partially, roughly one-third of the ordinary process of cooking, like the food of ben Derosai. And now that he turns it over, it cooks on both sides like the food of ben Derosai. And Rabbi Yoḥanan teaches us that any meat roasted on only one side like the food of ben Derosai is nothing, i.e., this is not a violation of the prohibited labor of cooking on Shabbat. If it was roasted on both sides like the food of ben Derosai this is classified as cooking, and he is liable for cooking on Shabbat.

So, while the bandit didn’t wait for the meat to be fully cooked – he still wanted it to be partially cooked on both sides. Not like this Florida man who went over 100 days eating raw chicken.

Don’t try this at home. (Not even if it’s Shabbat an dyou didn’t pre-cook.)

Today’s gem focuses on the ancient practice of bloodletting.

In particular – the bloodletting of animals!

The Sages taught in a baraita (Tosefta, Bekhorot 3:6): In the case of an unblemished firstborn kosher animal whose blood circulation is constricted, a condition that can be healed only through bloodletting, one may let the animal’s blood by cutting it in a place where the incision does not cause a permanent blemish.

While the daf goes on to make the beautiful ruling that one should try to save the life of the animal, even if it means it will no longer be appropriate for sacrifice (gem worthy stuff), I couldn’t help being fascinated that they did bloodletting on animals. Clearly bloodletting must work in some situations, or it wouldn’t be something that was practiced for so long and even extended to animals.

While traditional bloodletting is considered ineffective and a dangerous practice, it has apparently evolved into a legitimate, evidence-based modern medical treatment known as “therapeutic phlebotomy.” It is highly effective for specific conditions, including:
1) Hemochromatosis: A genetic disorder causing iron overload.
2) Polycythemia vera: A condition characterized by excessive red blood cell production.
3) Porphyria cutanea tarda: A rare blood disorder.
4) Leeches: Used in modern reconstructive surgery to restore blood circulation.
5) Iron Reduction: Some evidence suggests it may help with certain cardiovascular issues by lowering blood pressure.

So, it’s dangerous, but did work sometimes, so that’s why it even appears in veterinary health.

Now, where can I find some leaches to help with my scars . . .

On today’s daf, Rabbi Ila teaches: “There is no meal offering more difficult than the sinner’s offering.”

Love this. It teaches us that the path back after wrongdoing is rarely graceful. It is clumsy, uncertain, and delicate — like trying to hold a handful of dry flour. But the daf still asks us to bring it. Judaism does not expect perfect repentance; it asks only that we try to gather what we can and offer it back.

Love is compared to a rose. The Jewish people? An olive tree.

The verse in Jeremiah compares the Jewish people to an olive tree: “The Lord called your name a leafy olive tree.” Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi says: Why were the Jewish people likened to an olive tree? It is to tell you that just as the leaves of an olive tree never fall off, neither in the summer nor in the rainy season, so too, the Jewish people will never be nullified, neither in this world nor in the World-to-Come. And Rabbi Yoḥanan says: Why were the Jewish people likened to an olive tree? It is to tell you that just as an olive tree brings forth its oil only by means of crushing and breaking, so too, the Jewish people, if they sin, return to good ways only by means of suffering.

The gem: Like the olive tree, the Jewish people endure through every season. And like olives, sometimes it is through pressure that our best qualities emerge.

A gem for a reform Jew – just to show that the law has been changed plenty of times.

Once the Sages saw that people were treating the ashes of the heifer disrespectfully, and making salves for their wounds from it, they decreed that it is subject to the halakhot of misuse of consecrated property and one may not derive benefit from it. Once they saw that as a result of this decree people were refraining from sprinkling it in cases where there was uncertainty as to whether or not an individual was impure and required sprinkling, they revoked the decree and established it in accordance with the halakha as it is by Torah law, that one is not liable for misusing the ashes of a red heifer.

The law changed — twice.

First to address disrespect.
Then to address overcorrection.

We see here that halakhah is not rigid. The Sages were not afraid to enact fences around the law — and they were not afraid to remove those fences when they no longer served their purpose.
The goal was a living system that actually works.

This daf reminds us that authentic tradition is not stubbornness. It is the courage to evaluate outcomes, to notice unintended consequences, and to recalibrate.

Sometimes preserving Torah requires tightening.
Sometimes it requires loosening.

And wisdom is knowing the difference.