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

Today’s daf gives us a wonderful teaching and a wonderful story based on this teaching from Rabbi Yohanan:

And Rabbi Yoḥanan further said: Rain is withheld only due to those who pledge charity in public but do not give it, as it is stated: “As vapors and wind without rain, so is he who boasts of a false gift” (Proverbs 25:14).

And Rabbi Yoḥanan said: What is the meaning of that which is written: “A tithe shall you tithe [te’aser]” (Deuteronomy 14:22)? This phrase can be interpreted homiletically: Take a tithe [asser] so that you will become wealthy [titasher], in the merit of the mitzva.

I love this teaching. No one becomes poor through giving. But, pledging we will give and not following through will make us poor. And, if we want to be wealthy, the best thing to do is to tithe, give 10-20%.

Daynu, this would have been enough, but now we also get this great story. We need to remember, when we read it, that Rabbi Yohanan’s best friend and chevrutah partner (and brother-in-law) was Reish Lakish. The two men loved one another and disagreed constantly on interpretations of the law. They once fought and Reish Lakish became ill. Yohanan was too proud to go and see and forgive his friend and Reish Lakish died. Yohanan can never find a study partner to replace his friend. Everyone else just agrees with him. Eventually, Yohanan too dies of a broken heart. But not right away. That is where we are in time when the following story takes place:

Rabbi Yoḥanan found the young son of Reish Lakish. He said to the boy: Recite to me your verse, i.e., the verse you studied today in school. The boy said to him: “A tithe shall you tithe.” The boy further said to Rabbi Yoḥanan: But what is the meaning of this phrase: “A tithe shall you tithe”? Rabbi Yoḥanan said to him: The verse means: Take a tithe so that you will become wealthy. The boy said to Rabbi Yoḥanan: From where do you derive that this is so? Rabbi Yoḥanan said to him: Go and test it. (He is telling him to give away a tithe and see if he becomes wealthy!)

The boy said to him: And is it permitted to test the Holy One, Blessed be He? But isn’t it written: “You shall not test the Lord your God” (Deuteronomy 6:16)? Rabbi Yoḥanan said to the boy that Rabbi Hoshaya said as follows: It is prohibited to test God in any way, except in this case of tithes, as it is stated: “Bring the whole tithe into the storeroom, that there may be food in My house, and test Me now by this, said the Lord of hosts, if I will not open for you the windows of heaven, and pour out for you a blessing that there shall be more than sufficiency” (Malachi 3:10).

. . . The boy said to Rabbi Yoḥanan: If I had arrived there, at this verse, I would not have needed you or Hoshaya your teacher, as I could have understood it on my own.

And furthermore, on a different occasion Rabbi Yoḥanan found the young son of Reish Lakish, when he was sitting and studying and he was reciting the verse: “The foolishness of man perverts his way, and his heart frets against the Lord” (Proverbs 19:3). This verse means that when someone sins and every manner of mishap befalls him, he complains and wonders why these things are happening to him.

Rabbi Yoḥanan sat down and wondered aloud about this verse, saying: Is there anything that is written in the Writings that is not alluded to in the Torah at all? Yohanan is saying that he cannot think of any hint of this idea in the Torah itself. The child said to him: Is that to say that this idea is really not alluded to in the Torah? But isn’t it written, with regard to Joseph’s brothers: “And their heart failed them and they turned trembling to one to another, saying: What is this that God has done to us?” (Genesis 42:28). This verse exemplifies the notion that when one sins and encounters troubles, he wonders why it is happening to him.

We need to notice that this child just solved a mystery that Yohanan could not!

Rabbi Yoḥanan raised his eyes and stared at the boy. At this point, the boy’s mother came and took him away, saying to him: Come away from Rabbi Yoḥanan, so that he does not do to you as he did to your father.

I love the story. I love the brilliance of the boy. I love his uncle bringing him big questions and finding that this child is like his father in that he is not scared to question and challenge and teach. I love his mother’s protectiveness of her beloved child. And I love the two lessons:

1. If you want to be wealthy, give charity.
2. We always question why bad things happen to us, seeing ourselves as innocent, but (most of us our sinners and) most of the bad that befalls us could have been prevented if we had just behaved differently.

A quick gem for the teachers and students out there, and then a really interesting story from our daf: Rava said: If you see a student whose studies are as difficult for him as iron, this is due to his teacher, who does not show him a friendly countenance, but is overly strict with him. This practice inhibits the student’s learning, as it is stated: “And it has not whetted the surface [panim]” (Ecclesiastes 10:10).

I love this. If the whole class fails a test – maybe, just maybe, it’s the teachers fault. The Gemara suggests that if the student doesn’t get the material, maybe it’s that the teacher is intimidating to the student in someway, making it hard for the student to ask those questions that will make the material easier to understand. A great lesson.

Now, a great story, a story that all the rabbis of the Talmud were familiar with and therefore, able to understand with only a few words of reference (like us saying “don’t cry wolf” and knowing the entire story of the boy who cried wolf from the reference):

And Rabbi Ami said: Come and see how great the faithful people are, and how God assists them. From where is it derived? From the story of the marten (weasel) and the pit. And if this is the outcome for one who believes in signs from a pit and a marten, all the more so for one who has faith in the Holy One, Blessed be He.

What’s the story? According to Otzar Midrashim and Rabbi Steinsaltz’s translaiton:

“Once a young man saved a girl who had fallen into a pit. After rescuing her they swore to remain faithful to each other, and they declared the pit and a passing marten their witnesses. As time went by the young man forgot his vow and married another woman. They had two children, both of whom died tragically, one by falling into a pit and the other when he was bitten by a marten. Their unusual deaths led the young man to realize his error and he returned to the first woman.” the rabbis are saying, if a pit and a weasel can bear witness to your promises and be points of faith, all the more so God can be witness to your faithfulness.

What a delicious page! Our daf has some of the best lines about the importance of studying Torah 1) from a place of humility and 2) with others.

Rabbi Ḥama, son of Rabbi Ḥanina, said: What is the meaning of that which is written: “Iron sharpens iron, so a man sharpens the countenance of his friend” (Proverbs 27:17)? This verse comes to tell you that just as with these iron implements, one sharpens the other when they are rubbed against each other, so too, when Torah scholars study together, they sharpen one another in halakha.

This is the core explanation of why we study in chevrutah when we learn words of Torah and why it’s good to have a Torah study partner who pushes and challenges your understandings. But the Gemara is not done yet:

Rabba bar bar Ḥana said: Why are matters of Torah compared to fire, as it is stated: “Is not My word like fire, says the Lord” (Jeremiah 23:29)? To tell you: Just as fire does not ignite in a lone stick of wood but in a pile of kindling, so too, matters of Torah are not retained and understood properly by a lone scholar who studies by himself, but by a group of Sages.

Don’t study Torah alone! More on that:

And this is what Rabbi Yosei bar Ḥanina said: What is the meaning of that which is written: “A sword is upon the boasters [habaddim], and they shall become fools [noalu]” (Jeremiah 50:36)? This verse can be interpreted homiletically: There is a sword upon the enemies of Torah scholars, a euphemism for Torah scholars themselves, who sit alone [bad bevad] and study Torah. And not only that, but those who study by themselves grow foolish from their solitary Torah study, as it is stated: “And they shall become fools.”

And not only that, but they sin, as it is written here: “And they shall become fools,” and it is written there: “For that we have done foolishly [noalnu] and for that we have sinned” (Numbers 12:11).

Studying Torah alone is not only not as good as studying with others – but it can ever be a sin! Why? Our rabbis seemed to know about echo chambers and confirmation bias. When I read Torah (or Talmud) I see things from my perspective, I put my ideas into the mouths of those whose words I am reading (I really do this, not just hyperbole). So, I need others to help me see the words from the perspective of others; to remind me of context and challenge my working assumptions. If only we applied these rules to studying headlines!

You might be thinking that you need to study with people on your level. The Gemara continues:

Rav Naḥman bar Yitzḥak said: Why are Torah matters likened to a tree, as it is stated: “It is a tree of life to them who lay hold upon it” (Proverbs 3:18)? This verse comes to tell you that just as a small piece of wood can ignite a large piece, so too, minor Torah scholars can sharpen great Torah scholars and enable them to advance in their studies.

We can all learn from one another. Remember what Ben Zoma said in Pirke Avot 4: Who is wise? He who learns from everyone.

So, let’s end with the most delicious line of all, a fabulous line for all the teachers out there:

And this is what Rabbi Ḥanina said: I have learned much from my teachers and even more from my friends, but from my students I have learned more than from all of them.

Two little gems on today’s daf. The first is a beautiful metaphor about how rain can humble us and remind us that we are not able to control everything, that we ar enot gods: The Gemara clarifies the meaning of the word for the last rain [malkosh]. Rav Nehilai bar Idi said that Shmuel said: It is a matter that circumcises [mal] the stubbornness [kashyuteihen] of the Jewish people, i.e., it penetrates to the hearts of the Jewish people, as when rain does not fall in its time, they turn to God in repentance.

The second is the blessing we say over rain and when we say it – gorgeous imagery:

Rabbi Abbahu said: From when does one recite a blessing over rain? From when the groom goes out to meet the bride. Stiensaltz explains this as “when there are puddles of water on the ground such that the water below, represented as the bride in this metaphor, is splashed from above by the raindrops, represented as the groom.” I love this image of rain from the sky being like a bride and groom uniting.

The Gemara asks: What blessing does one recite over rain? Rav Yehuda said that Rav said: We thank you, O Lord our God, for each and every drop that You have made fall for us. And Rabbi Yoḥanan concludes the blessing as follows: If our mouth were as full of song as the sea, and our tongue with singing like the multitude of its waves, etc. And one continues with the formula of the nishmat prayer recited on Shabbat morning, until: May Your mercy not forsake us, O Lord our God, and You have not forsaken us. Blessed are You, O Lord, to Whom abundant thanksgivings are offered. The Gemara asks: Why does the blessing specify abundant thanksgivings and not all thanksgivings? Rava said: Emend the formula of the blessing and say: God of thanksgivings. Rav Pappa said: Therefore, as there are differences of opinion on this, we will recite them both: God of thanksgivings, and: Abundant thanksgivings.

Rain in its proper season and amount is deserving of every thanksgiving prayer we have. It’s an everyday miracle – like finding love. We may rely on those who love us and take those who love us for granted, but when love is missing we suffer. So too with rain. We take it for granted unless it does not come . . .

Let’s give thanks for those who shower us with love.

The blessing Rav Yitzhak gives Rav Nahman on today’s daf is so incredibly beautiful. In fact, it’s words (just about the tree) have been illustrated and turned into a children’s book, “Dear Tree,” by Doba Rivka Weber.

The Gemara relates: When they were taking leave of one another, Rav Naḥman said to Rabbi Yitzḥak: Master, give me a blessing. Rabbi Yitzḥak said to him: I will tell you a parable. To what is this matter comparable? It is comparable to one who was walking through a desert and who was hungry, tired, and thirsty. And he found a tree whose fruits were sweet and whose shade was pleasant, and a stream of water flowed beneath it. He ate from the fruits of the tree, drank from the water in the stream, and sat in the shade of the tree.

And when he wished to leave, he said: Tree, tree, with what shall I bless you? If I say to you that your fruits should be sweet, your fruits are already sweet; if I say that your shade should be pleasant, your shade is already pleasant; if I say that a stream of water should flow beneath you, a stream of water already flows beneath you. Rather, I will bless you as follows: May it be God’s will that all saplings which they plant from you be like you.

So it is with you. With what shall I bless you? If I bless you with Torah, you already have Torah; if I bless you with wealth, you already have wealth; if I bless you with children, you already have children. Rather, may it be God’s will that your offspring shall be like you.

Simply gorgeous. It needs nothing further – but I can’t help myself.

We should bless the trees by allowing their offspring to live and give shade. As a Floridian, I know how drastically cooler it is in the shade. Just go to a child’s soccer, football, or baseball game and watch the parents desperately trying to squeeze under the shade of the lone tree on edge of the field. Most of us know about the perils of the loss of rainforest, how they are the world’s lungs, absorbing CO2 by day and giving us oxygen by night, that about 120 medications come from the rainforest, that it houses over 3,000 species of animals – and that a chunk of rainforest, 6,000 acres, is cut down every hour.

But did you know that one of the ways trees can best save us from a heating planet is shade? That, if we want to cool the planet, one of the best things we can do (besides all the things we should stop doing) is to plant trees and create more tree canopy?

Just yesterday I was listening to a local news broadcast that was talking about the life saving effects of planting urban trees: https://www.wlrn.org/news/2021-11-16/miami-dade-county-florida-extreme-heat-season-cop26-tree-canopy. To learn more check out this NYTimes article.

Tree, tree, with what shall I bless you? If I say to you that your fruits should be sweet, your fruits are already sweet; if I say that your shade should be pleasant, your shade is already pleasant; if I say that a stream of water should flow beneath you, a stream of water already flows beneath you. Rather, I will bless you as follows: May it be God’s will that all saplings which they plant from you be like you.

Let’s get planting.

In my 4^th year of rabbinical school I was taking a greyhound bus to visit my then fiancé, now husband, in his grad school program at Syracuse.  I was spending the time on the bus studying.  To be specific, I was learning about the Yotzeir  prayer, a prayer that traditional Jews say on a daily basis, a prayer we say before reciting the morning Shema – the maxim of our faith!  In this prayer we call God “creator of Light” and the  “Creator of Darkness” “Maker of peace” and “creator of evil”. I had always thought this was a beautiful prayer, thanking God for all the variety in creation, for the vastness of creation. Our prayer books, in fact, title the prayer “creation”.   

But that is not what I was reading.     

There, on the Greyhound bus, I learned that this key prayer was not merely a beautiful thank you to God – no, it was a polemic against our neighbors. This prayer borrowed its text from the prophet Isaiah, quoting God’s words to Cyrus.  Cyrus was the king of Persia which at the time was grappling with Zoroastrian dualism.  See Zoroastrians believed in two gods: a god of light and goodness, and a god of darkness and evil.   The Yotzeir prayer was a reminder that these two seeming opposites, light and dark, good and evil, can come from the same source.  

Now, this made sense to me in the original context, a prophet telling a king that there is only one God and that the Zoroastrians, who were a threat, were wrong in their beliefs, but what upset me so much was the idea that we made this “put down” of another people’s faith part of our daily prayers.  What upset me was that, here we are, thousands of years later, still saying this polemic against Zoroastrians!  While Jews are less than 0.2% of the world population, Zoroastrians are much less.  Have you ever met a Zoroastrian?  So, why, why did we still have to say this prayer which was suddenly not looking like a beautiful prayer of praise for creation, but instead, it was striking me as flat out petty crap.   

And I had a little break down.  And so did the bus. 

There I was in a broken-down Greyhound bus on the side of the highway, and I began to rethink my path.  Judaism was not jiving with my rational mind.  I had made a huge mistake. So, I took the rational approach.  I had my college education to fall back on; I was a couple of months away from my Master’s in Hebrew Literature.  I was sure there was something else I could do.   

About 45 minutes later, I had a plan, I would finish out my Masters, drop out of rabbinical school, I would work as a Hebrew teacher or religious school teacher until I found a real job using my undergraduate degree. Having made these decisions and feeling a bit more secure, I had nothing to do but look out the window.  

It was a beautiful sunny day.  Dust dancing on beams of sunshine, birds chirping. 

In crept that feeling of connection to the world around me while simultaneously feeling small and alone – that glimpse of infinity– this is when I feel closest to God.  This creation prayer had left me feeling wounded, but here was creation itself, giving me a sense of wonder and awe.   

I was moved to do something I had never done before . . . I prayed for a sign.  I prayed – God please send me a sign if I should continue on this path. . .    

And right then the engine started, the bus started moving, and I found myself back on the path I had been on an hour ago.   

I share this request was unreasonable, and today our daf shares three unreasonable requests made and God’s response:

Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥmani said that Rabbi Yonatan said: Three people entreated God in an unreasonable manner. To two of them God responded reasonably, with a favorable response to their requests, and to one God responded unreasonably, i.e., unfavorably, in a manner befitting the unreasonable request. And they are: Eliezer, servant of Abraham; Saul, son of Kish; and Jephthah the Gileadite.

1. Eliezer, servant of Abraham, he made a request when he prayed beside the well to find the bride for Isaac, as it is written: “That the maiden to whom I shall say: Please let down your pitcher that I may drink; and she shall say: Drink, and I will also give your camels to drink; that she be the one whom you have appointed for your servant Isaac” (Genesis 24:14). Anyone could have shown up! She might even be lame or even blind, and yet he had promised to take her to Isaac (offended? me too, glad we have moved forward with our treatment of those with different abilities – but we still have a long way to go. I believe we need to face our prejudice if we wan tto make progress, so here it is.) Nevertheless, God responded to him reasonably and the eminently suitable Rebecca happened to come to him.
2. With regard to Saul, son of Kish, he made an offer when Goliath the Philistine challenged the Jews, as it is written: “And it shall be that the man who kills him, the king will enrich him with great riches, and will give him his daughter” (I Samuel 17:25). The man who killed Goliath might even have been a slave or a mamzer, one born from an incestuous or adulterous union, who would be unfit to marry his daughter (again, I am glad we have matured in our thinking. At the time, it would have been inappropriate for a princess to marry these people) . Nevertheless, God responded to him reasonably and David happened to come to him.
3. By contrast, there is the case of Jephthah the Gileadite. Upon leaving for battle he issued a statement, as it is written: “Then it shall be that whatever comes forth from the doors of my house to meet me when I return in peace…it shall be to the Lord and I will bring it up for a burnt-offering” (Judges 11:31). This might even have been an impure, non-kosher animal, which he had committed himself to sacrifice. In this instance, God responded to him unreasonably, and his daughter happened to come to him.

What’s the difference between the first two and the third? The first two have to do with marriage, and we are taught that God spends God’s time making matches, as we read in Bereshit Rabbah 68:

A Roman Matron asked Rabbi Yosi ben Halafta, “In how many days did God create the world?” He said, “In six, as it is said, ‘Since six days God made…’ (Exodus 20:11) “And since then,” she asked, “what has God been doing?” “God sits [on the Heavenly Throne] and makes matches: the daughter of this one to that one, the wife [i.e. widow] of this one to that one,” responded R. Yosi. “

God had already ordained who Isaac (Rebecca) and who Michal (Kind David) would marry. There was little chance these requests from Eliezer or Saul could go wrong. Jephthah, on the other hand, had no reason to say what he said – he was being careless. When his daughter came out, he could have sought out the rabbinic authority at the time who would have annulled his vow – but he was too proud. The Torah makes it clear that our God rejects human sacrifice, yet he went on with it.

So, was the bus restarting God answering my unreasonable request?

I don’t know. Maybe I would have taken anything that happened at that moment as a sign to stay in Rabbinical school. I am so glad that I did.

Yesterday, we discussed how rain, in it’s proper amount and time, is the lifeblood for our planet. Today? Snow.

Rava said: Snow is as beneficial to the mountains as five rainfalls to the earth of the plains, as it is stated: “For He says to the snow: Fall on the earth, likewise to the shower of rain, and to the showers of His mighty rain” (Job 37:6). (This verse compares snow to rain by means of five allusions to types of rainfall: The word “rain,” which appears twice; the word “shower”; and the plural “showers,” which indicates two rainfalls. This teaches that snow is as beneficial as five rainfalls.) And on the same topic, Rava said: Snow brings benefits to the mountains; strong rain provides benefits to trees; light rain brings benefit to fruit; and drizzle [urpila] is even beneficial to a seed [partzida] under a clod of earth, as it can reach anywhere without causing any harm.

Those who live around snowcapped mountains know well how reliant the surrounding steams and earth are for the replenishment of water from the snow. Those snow caps are not only beautiful, they are crucial to our survival. The rabbis seemed to know this, but we seem to have forgotten.

For example, melting snowpacks and glaciers feed some of the largest rivers in Asia. More than a billion people rely on the snow melt from those beautifully snow capped mountains of Asia on for water.

You may be thinking: Isn’t the planet heating up? Isn’t that a problem?

Yes. As climate change causes melting in the region to accelerate, snow and ice reserves are depleting, leading to water insecurity.

The new study finds that, between 1979-99 and 1999-2019, “snow meltwater supply” to rivers in high-mountain Asia dropped by an average of 16%. The authors of the paper, which is published in Nature Climate Change (https://www.nature.com/articles/s41558-021-01074-x), add that although melting glaciers often receive “considerable attention” for their contribution to streamflow, the impact of melting snow is often larger than that of glaciers.

And it’s not just in Asia, we are losing snow world wide. The result? More sea level rise and draught.

What’s one thing you will change to ebb your contribution to climate change?

(I will try not to talk about climate change on every page of Ta’anit . . . )

Ta’anit means a fast. Most of the Jewish and non-Jewish world knows that Jews fast for Yom Kippur, but there are, in fact, many fast days in Judaism. There are those we know because the bible describes them (like Yom Kippur, and the fast of Ester, and when in mourning) an those that the rabbis describe for us, like Tisha B’av when we mourn the destruction fo the two Temples as well as many other calamities that have befallen our people throughout the millennia.

But the most common cause for public fasting was draught.

That’s why the book on fasts, Ta’anit, begins with the question of: When, meaning what date, do we start to pray for rain as an aspect of our Amidah, our daily prayers that we recite 3 times a day?

We had previously learned (as reiterated on today’s daf): As it teaches (Berakhot 33a): One mentions the might of the rains and recites: He makes the wind blow and the rain fall in the second blessing of the Amida prayer, the blessing of the resurrection of the dead.

The association with rain and the resurrection of the dead is so apt. Plants, streams, the very ground begins to desiccate and die when there is no rain. When the rain finally comes, it brings the earth back to life – a resurrection.

And, as we just learned in Rosh Hashanah: And on the festival of Sukkot all creatures are judged for water.

Water is a blessing, the source of life. But too much, too quickly or out of season can be a problem. Rabbi Yehoshua said to him in response: But rain during the festival of Sukkot is nothing other than a sign of a curse.

Our earth is experiencing rain that can be considered a curse. In 2021, Europe has experienced unprecedented flooding. At least 242 people have died in the floods, including 196 in Germany, 42 in Belgium, 2 in Romania, 1 in Italy and 1 in Austria. Stateside, Hurricane Ida’s flooding killed at least 43 people in New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Connecticut.

2 days ago the headlines read that in India, over 11,000 Displaced by Tamil Nadu Floods, in Sri Lanka, 20 died after days of severe weather,  in Indonesia flash floods in Batu City left at least 6 Dead, while in Bosnia there are currently mass evacuations.

Over 920 people died because of flooding just in July.

And drought? check out this website for some sad statistics: https://www.drought.gov/current-conditions. And world wide? Madagascar is on the verge of famine, Brazil is experiencing one of the worst draughts ever recorded (think about the land and human devastation when you see your coffee prices rise), and the Middle East is drying up. The water table exhausted, minimal rain for the past 20 years, resulting in land devastation, less farming, and migration.

Okay, well, that’s depressing. this is why climate change, as unsexy as it is to talk about, is the basis for so many other human rights issues.

Our rabbis knew that. They knew that we had to believe in something more powerful than the self. That we were not above the weather, but subject to it. That the right amount of rain means life.

Mashiv haRuach U’Morid haGashem.

We end Rosh Hashanah with a question: When the prayer leader recites a prayer, on whose behalf is the prayer said? Yesterday, we learned that those who are present who do not know how to properly recite are exempt by the recitation of the leader – but what about those who are not there at all?

Rav Aḥa bar Avira said that Rabbi Shimon Ḥasida said: Rabban Gamliel would allow the prayer leader to exempt even the people who were in the fields working and away from the synagogue (this would be a weekday, not Rosh Hashanah). The Gemara challenges: This statement implies that the prayer leader exempts even the people in the fields, and needless to say, he exempts those who are here in the city but did not attend the prayer service in the synagogue.

The Gemara questions this conclusion: On the contrary, the opposite is more reasonable: Those in the fields did not come to the synagogue due to circumstances beyond their control, and therefore they should be allowed to fulfill their obligation through the prayer leader. By contrast, those in the city were not prevented from coming to the synagogue due to circumstances beyond their control. Consequently, they should not fulfill their obligation through the prayer leader.

Was it possible for you to go but you didn’t? Then the prayer leader cannot pray on your behalf, you need to do your part. But if you really could not go – then the prayer leader CAN pray on your behalf.

Then we see that, even those physically present at the service have to do their part for the prayer to count:

As Abba, son of Rav Binyamin bar Ḥiyya, taught in a baraita: Those people standing in the synagogue behind the priests during the Priestly Blessing, who are not positioned in front of them, face-to-face, are not included in the blessing. They are expected to make the minimal effort to stand in front of the priests. They can’t walk a few feet? They don’t get counted. Never the less, those in the fields are included in the Priestly Blessing.

Rather, Rabban Gamliel’s statement should be understood differently: When Ravin came from Eretz Yisrael to Babylonia, he reported that Rabbi Ya’akov bar Idi said that Rabbi Shimon bar Ḥasida said: Rabban Gamliel allowed the prayer leader to exempt only the people in the fields. What is the reason for this? Because the people in the fields are unable to come to the synagogue due to work circumstances beyond their control, and do not have time to prepare their prayers. However, Rabban Gamliel did not exempt those in the city who do not come to the synagogue, as they are able to prepare their prayers and pray by themselves.

The message we end with is a reminder of what it means to be part of a community = showing up, doing your part, and when someone can’t do for themselves, stepping in for them. We are reminded that we don’t have to be perfect, but that we have to try.

A great lesson to end with. הַדְרָן עֲלָךְ יוֹם טוֹב וּסְלִיקָא לַהּ מַסֶּכֶת רֹאשׁ הַשָּׁנָה

On yesterday’s daf, we heard the comparison to the shofar’s cry to that of a mother whose son died. Today as well, the Gemara uses the way in which people cry to establish the order of the blasts of the shofar:

The Gemara asks: If so, let one perform the opposite set as well: Tekia, terua, three shevarim, tekia, as perhaps a terua consists of whimpering and then moaning. The Gemara answers: The normal way of things is that when a person experiences a bad event, he first moans and then whimpers, but not the reverse.

According to the earliest translation of the Torah (targum) the biblical name for Rosh Hashana, ‘Yom Teruah’ (Numbers 29:1) means ‘a day of moaning.’ From this, we learn that, when we hear the shofar blasts, they are not to be heard merely as blasts of a horn, they are a cry to God.

On 33b we heard it as the cry of Sisera’s mother, the Midrash says the 100 blasts of the shofar were really Sara’s cries when she heard about the Akeida of her son, and on Rosh Hashanah, we read (in the haftarah) of Rachel crying for her children: “Thus says the Lord: A voice is heard…bitter weeping, Rachel weeping for her children; she refuses to be comforted for her children, because they are not.”

Through the eyes of the prophet, Rachel’s children are us, the Jewish people. How in each generation we have been persecuted, murdered, rendered homeless (thank God for Israel). Rachel cries for our continued pain.

The sadness of this is just so powerful to me. What does it mean that this is what the shofar stands in for on our most holy of days? That the shofar is the heartbreak of a mother losing her child . . . a part of her, her legacy, her meaning, her heart.

The nechemta (required moment of comfort) from the haftarah is when God answers Rachel, “Refrain your voice from weeping, and thine eyes from tears… there is hope for the future (Jeremiah 31:15-16).”

God gives words of hope. That is the engine of the Jewish people – hope. Even in the abyss of loss, of fear, of pain – there is hope.

Tomorrow is the last day of masechet Rosh Hashanah. So, I want to note that, during Rosh Hashanah, after the shofar is blasted we say: Ashrei Ha’am Yodei Teruah,“Praised are the people who truly understand the message of the shofar.”

What is the message? That even on the day when we are judged for our failings, God hears our cry that we have been given an unjust world, that the pain is often too much. That, when we cry, we are never alone. We are surrounded by community who cry with us. That, even in the depths of our heartbreak – there is still hope.

Tekiah