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

Menachot 70

Do you eat rice on Passover? Growing up, I was not allowed, but the rabbis on the daf seem to make it clear that rice does not count as Chametz (items with leaven)! While discussing which grains require separating challah (not the loaf, challah actually refers to a percentage of dough/bread taken from your dough/bread to be offered to the Levites) we learn that the 5 species that require challah are the same 5 species forbidden to eat not in matzah form on Passover.

A Sage taught in a baraita: Spelt is a type of wheat, while oats and rye are a type of barley. The Gemara translates the lesser-known species into the vernacular Aramaic: Spelt is called gulva, rye is dishra, and oats are shibbolei ta’ala. The Gemara infers: With regard to these species, yes, the obligation of ḥalla applies to them, but concerning rice and millet, no, the obligation of ḥalla does not apply to them. The Gemara asks: From where is this matter, that only these five grains are obligated in the separations of ḥalla, derived? Reish Lakish said: This principle is derived by means of a verbal analogy between “bread” and “bread” from the case of matza. It is written here, with regard to ḥalla: “And it shall be that when you eat of the bread of the land, you shall set apart a portion for a gift to the Lord” (Numbers 15:19), and it is written there, with regard to matza: “Bread of affliction” (Deuteronomy 16:3). Just as matza can be prepared only from one of those five grains, so too the obligation of ḥalla applies only to bread from one of those five grains. The Gemara asks: And there, with regard to matza itself, from where do we derive that it must be from one of those five grains? The Gemara answers: Reish Lakish said, and likewise a Sage of the school of Rabbi Yishmael taught, and likewise a Sage of the school of Rabbi Eliezer ben Ya’akov taught, that the verse states: “You shall eat no leavened bread with it; seven days you shall eat with it matza, the bread of affliction” (Deuteronomy 16:3). This verse indicates that only with regard to substances that will come to a state of leavening does a person fulfill his obligation to eat matzaby eating them on Passover, provided that he prevents them from becoming leavened. This serves to exclude these foods, i.e., rice, millet, and similar grains, which, even if flour is prepared from them and water is added to their flour, do not come to a state of leavening but to a state of decay [sirḥon].

It’s all chemistry my dear. When mixed with water, the five species of grain from which matzah may be made undergo fermentation even without the addition of yeast, while rice will spoil long before the fermentation process becomes noticeable.

Go science! Go rabbis! And maybe, go buy some rice for Passover!

I’m sure you’re wondering how – if the Talmud allows it – so many of us grew up not eating rice on Passover. This restriction was established in the 13th century when the Ashkenazi rabbis insister rice can be confused with or contaminated by on eof the 5 forbidden grains. Now you know. Now you can make the call.

Menachot 69

When my son was a teething toddler, he had a spot of hot pink in his poop. I freaked out thinking he must have some weird disease. I called to my husband who came in, took one look, and said – it’s part of the play matt, he must have bitten some off.

In and out, none digested. Today’s daf reminded me of this story. Oh just wait, it’s good. First, you need to know that when it comes to a utensil contracting ritual impurity, the rules for a basket are different from something made from animal dung. Okay, here it is:

Rami bar Ḥama raises yet another dilemma: In the case of an elephant that swallowed an Egyptian wicker basket and excreted it intact along with its waste, what is the halakha?

Yep. Rami bar Hama wants to know if an elephant ate a wicker basket and pooped it, is it impure or not?

HELLO?!

But, fun fact, this very likely happened! It turns out that elephants don’t digest about half of what they eat, and they eat over 400 lbs of food every day – so it’s very possible that an elephant could eat a basket and poop it intact.

How do we make this spiritual? Well, of what we take in, what is it that we digest? What are we able to allow to pass through us without affecting us?

Menachot 67

Today’s gem is just to be hopeful. To never give up hope, to expect the best to happen. It reminds me of how Miriam has her timbrel ready to go when the Jews escaped Egypt.

The Gemara questions the claim that the purpose of waiting until the sacrifice of the omer is only in order to fulfill the mitzva in the most optimal fashion. The mishna teaches: From the time that the Temple was destroyed, Rabban Yoḥanan ben Zakkai instituted that partaking from the new crop on the day of waving the omer, the sixteenth of Nisan, is completely prohibited and one may partake of the new crop only the next day. The Gemara analyzes this statement. What is the reason for this? It is that soon the Temple will be rebuilt, and people will say: Last year [eshtakad], when there was no Temple, didn’t we eat of the new crop as soon as the eastern horizon was illuminated, as the new crop was permitted immediately upon the advent of the morning of the sixteenth of Nisan? Now, too, let us eat the new grain at that time.

Here’s to tomorrow being even better than today.

Menachot 66

We are told to count 7 weeks of 7 days, to count 50 days from Passover to the holiday of Shavuot. Much of our day today deals with the apparent contradiction of why we need to count both days and weeks, and how to make that 7×7=50 (You count 7×7 then the next day is Shavuot). Anyway, after argument about how to count, we get this gem of a line:

Abaye said: It is a mitzva to count days, and it is also a mitzva to count weeks.

We have all heard the expression “make every day count,” this takes that to a whole new level. Each day should count, each day is an opportunity to do a mitzvah, each day we have short term goals we want to accomplish. Each week should count as well, we need to have long term goals, and those day to day mitzvoth can and should dd up to something bigger.

Let’s make today count!

Menachot 65

Mordekhai, along with his niece Esther, are the heroes of the Purim story. They lived in Persia (today’s Iran) and saved the diaspora Jewish community there. Mordekhai is also the star of the end of yesterday, the the beginning of today’s, daf.

The passages are long and I will paste below, but here is the gist and takeaway: I love that Mordekhai isn’t just wise—he’s attentive.

A deaf-mute gestures, and while others see confusion, Mordekhai sees meaning. Three women speak, and while others jump to legal conclusions, Mordekhai pauses and asks: What are they really trying to say? (Thank God a rabbi actually does this!)

He gets it right.

The Gemara later explains that Mordekhai knew seventy languages—but more than that, he could combine and interpret them.

My gem? We know know what words mean and still not understand what someone is trying to say.
Being a real religious leader isn’t just about knowing the law—it’s about listening deeply. People don’t always say things clearly. Sometimes they gesture, hint, or speak in ways that are easy to misunderstand. The real wisdom is not just hearing words, but understanding the person behind them.

Or, in Mordekhai’s world:
It’s not enough to know seventy languages. You have to know how to truly listen.

Here is the text:

The Gemara relates another tradition with regard to that occasion when the omer came from Gaggot Tzerifin and the two loaves from the valley of Ein Sokher: When it came time to bring the omer meal offering, they did not know from where they could bring the omer grain, as all the surrounding fields were looted and ruined. The court publicly proclaimed their difficulty. A certain deaf-mute [ḥersha] came forward and stretched out one hand toward a roof, gag in Hebrew, and one hand toward a hut [atzerifa]. Mordekhai said to the Sages: Is there a place that is called Gaggot Tzerifin or Tzerifin Gaggot? They checked and found that there was such a place, and it contained fields of barley from which they were able to bring the omer meal offering. A similar incident occurred when they needed to bring the two loaves, and they did not know from where to bring the grain. Again the court publicly proclaimed their difficulty, and a certain deaf-mute came forward and stretched out one hand toward his eye [a’eineih] and one hand toward a door latch [assikhera]. Mordekhai said to the Sages: And is there a place that is called: Ein Sokher, or Sokher Ayin? They checked and found that there was such a place, and it contained fields of wheat from which they were able to bring the two loaves. The Gemara relates another story that demonstrates Mordekhai’s wisdom: Once, a certain three women brought three nests for their obligatory offerings of pairs of pigeons or doves (see Leviticus 15:29). One of them said: This offering is for my ziva; and one said: This if for my yamma; and the last one said: This is for my ona. The Sages understood from the first woman’s statement: For my ziva, that she had experienced a discharge of uterine blood when not expecting her menstrual period, which would give her the status of an actual zava. From the second woman’s statement: For my yamma, they understood: My actual yamma, i.e., she was also a ziva, as yam can mean: Sea, or a flow of blood. From the third woman’s statement: For my ona, they came to the conclusion that she needed to bring a sacrifice for her time [ona] of completing her purification process from being a zava. Accordingly, they understood that all these women were obligated to bring one sin offering and one burnt offering.Mordekhai said to the other Sages: Perhaps the first woman was endangered in the course of her menstrual flow [zov]. Similarly, perhaps the second woman was endangered at sea [yam]. Finally, perhaps the third woman was endangered through her eye [ayin], as ayin is phonetically similar to ona. According to these explanations, each woman sought to bring a voluntary offering to give thanks to God for being saved from danger. If so, the appropriate offering in each case is not a sin offering, as they are all burnt offerings. It was checked and they found that Mordekhai’s interpretation was in fact correct.

And this is as we learned in a mishna (Shekalim 13b): Petaḥya was responsible for the nests of birds, i.e., the doves or pigeons brought by a zav, a zava, a woman after childbirth, and a leper. These individuals would place the appropriate sum of money into the horn designated for this purpose, and each day Petaḥya oversaw the purchase of birds from that money and their sacrifice in the proper manner. This Sage is Mordekhai; and why was he called Petaḥya, which resembles the word for opening [petaḥ]? The reason is that he would open, i.e., elucidate, difficult topics and interpret them to the people, and because he knew all seventy languages known in that region at the time. The Gemara asks: What was unique about Petaḥya? All of the members of the Sanhedrin also know all seventy languages. As Rabbi Yoḥanan says: They place on the Great Sanhedrin only men of wisdom, and of pleasant appearance, and of high stature, and of suitable age so that they will be respected. And they must also be masters of sorcery, i.e., they know the nature of sorcery, so that they can judge sorcerers, and they must know all seventy languages in order that the Sanhedrin will not need to hear testimony from the mouth of a translator in a case where a witness speaks a different language. The Gemara answers: Rather, Petaḥya was unique as he not only knew all seventy languages, but also had the ability to combine various languages and interpret them. This is the meaning of that which is written with regard to Mordekhai: “Bilshan” (Nehemiah 7:7). Bilshan is interpreted as another name for Mordekhai, as he would combine [balil] languages [lashon].

Menachot 64

One of my favorite moments on today’s daf imagines a strange scenario:

As it was stated: If one heard that a child was drowning at sea, and he spread a net to raise fish and the result was that he raised only fish, he is liable for transgressing the Shabbat prohibition of trapping. If he intended to raise fish, and he raised both fish and the child, Rava says: He is liable, as his intention was to transgress a prohibition, and Rabba says: He is exempt, as his act saved a life and was therefore permitted on Shabbat. And Rabba deemed him exempt only there, since the one who spread the net heard that a child had fallen in, and therefore we say that his intention in spreading the net was also to save the child. But had he not heard that the child had fallen in, he would not be exempt.

Rather, Rabba says that he is exempt because one follows his actions, whereas Rava says that he is liable because one follows his intention. Consequently, the same dispute applies to the case of two offerings.

The debate hinges on a profound question: Do we judge a person by their intentions or by their actions?
Rava focuses on intention—if the person meant to violate Shabbat by fishing, he is liable. Rabba focuses on the outcome—his action ultimately saved a life.

The spiritual message feels very real. In life, our motives are not always pure. Sometimes we do the right thing for mixed reasons. But this daf suggests that what ultimately matters is that a life was saved. Even imperfect intentions can lead to holy outcomes.

And sometimes, the most important thing is simply that someone provide a net.

Menachot 63

I love today’s gem. It starts with a new mishnah that teaches us that if you promise to bring a meal sacrifice prepared in a “maḥavat ” then you can’t bring one prepared in a “marḥeshet.” What is the difference between a maḥavat and a marḥeshet? A marḥeshet has a cover, whereas a maḥavat does not have a cover; this is the statement of Rabbi Yosei HaGelili.

Now we get the Gemara which offers beautiful interpretations of these containers.

GEMARA: The Gemara inquires: As the Torah does not describe the different vessels, what is the reason for the interpretation of Rabbi Yosei HaGelili, explaining that a marḥeshet has a cover and a maḥavat does not have a cover? If we say that the term marḥeshet indicates that the offering comes to atone for the sinful musings [raḥashei] of the heart, as it is written: “My heart muses [raḥash] on a goodly matter” (Psalms 45:2), and therefore this meal offering must be prepared in a covered vessel just as the thoughts of the heart are hidden, this interpretation is insufficient. And if we say that the term maḥavat indicates that the offering comes to atone for transgressions committed with the corners of [ammaḥavo’ei] the mouth, as people say with regard to someone who speaks loudly: He is barking [minbaḥ nevuḥei], and therefore this meal offering must be prepared in an open vessel, this interpretation is also insufficient. The reason these interpretations are insufficient is that one can also say the opposite, and suggest that the name maḥavat indicates that the offering must be prepared in a closed vessel, as it comes to atone for the secret musings of the heart, as it is written that Laban said to Jacob: “Why did you flee secretly [naḥbeita]” (Genesis 31:27). Likewise, with regard to marḥeshet, one can say that it must be prepared in an open vessel, as it comes to atone for whispers [reḥushei] of the mouth which are heard and revealed, as people say: His lips were whispering [meraḥashan]. Therefore, Rabbi Yosei HaGelili cannot derive the meanings of the terms marḥeshet and maḥavat from the verses; rather, his interpretation is learned as a tradition.

I love the imagery here: That your sin offering has a covering to hide it’s contents just like the sins of your hart are hidden. That what you do publicly and say aloud must be uncovered. It’s beautiful and fitting.

But then it gets better!

The Gemara goes on to prove that you could find verses to argue the opposite. That’s why we need the law.

Amen.

As someone who interprets Torah for a living – it is easy to pick and choose verse to argue what I want. But is that what God wants? Is that the actual law?

The daf reminds us that it’s about God’s law at the end of the day – what God wants, not what we want.

Menachot 62

Fabulous text today!!

The mishna teaches that the two loaves and the two lambs are waved in the following manner: The priest places his two hands below the lambs, extends them to each of the four directions and brings them back, then raises and lowers them. Rabbi Ḥiyya bar Abba says that Rabbi Yoḥanan says: He extends the lambs and brings them back in order to dedicate them to He to Whom the four directions belong. He raises and lowers them in order to dedicate them to He to Whom the heavens and the earth belong. In the West, Eretz Yisrael, they taught the idea like this: Rabbi Ḥama bar Ukva says that Rabbi Yosei bar Rabbi Ḥanina says: He extends the lambs and brings them back in order to request a halt to harmful winds and storms that come from all directions. Similarly, he raises and lowers them in order to halt harmful dews and rains that come from above. Rabbi Yosei bar Rav Avin says: That is to say, i.e., it can be derived from here, that a non-essential mitzva helps prevent calamity, as waving is a non-essential mitzva; even if one failed to wave the loaves he has fulfilled his obligation, and nevertheless waving halts harmful winds and dews. Rava says: And one should conduct himself similarly with a lulav on the festival of Sukkot, i.e., he should extend and bring back and raise and lower the lulav, for the same reasons. The Gemara relates: Rav Aḥa bar Ya’akov would extend and bring back the lulav in this manner, and would say: I am hereby shooting an arrow in the eye of Satan, as despite Satan’s best efforts, the Jewish people continue to fulfill mitzvot joyously. The Gemara comments: It is not correct to say this, because this will induce Satan to come to incite the Jewish people to sin. Gloating about his victory over the evil inclination will lead Satan to redouble its efforts to corrupt them.

Love this! From the first explanation, we learn that waving the sacrifice shows us that God is everywhere—in every direction and in every dimension of the world.

The second explanation suggests that even a small ritual act can help protect the world.

But the third explanation is a warning: gloating can provoke the evil inclination to try even harder.

Our gem:
Small acts of devotion matter—they ripple outward into the whole world. But don’t forget that holiness works best with humility. We serve God in every direction, not by boasting of victory, but by quietly continuing to do the mitzvot.

Menachot 61

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.

Menachot 60

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.