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

Today we have an incredibly sad image, and a joyful one.  

We read about how the blast of a shofar is like the cry of a mother for her slain son: It is a day of yevava to you. And to define a yevava, the Gemara quotes a verse that is written about the mother of Sisera: “Through the window she looked forth and wailed [vateyabev], the mother of Sisera” (Judges 5:28). This is after Sisera is slain by the widow Yael (fabulous story, if you don’t know it, go read Judges 5 – women warriors bible style) . While we have no pity for the wicked Sisera who killed so indiscriminately, a mother is a mother and there is no loss greater than burying a child. – That is the emotion the shofar should bring forth: heartbreak, desperation, longing.

Now to the happy. One of my favorite aspects of the High Holidays is the children’s services. One thing we do to make these services extra special for the kids is give out toy shofars. As soon as they get them, a cacophony of sound ensues (and, the parents say it continues in the car and at home until the shofar magically “disappears”). Here is our Talmudic precedent:

The mishna taught that you let a child blow shofar on the holidays. that you don’t stop them from sounding the shofar: Rather, one occupies himself with them, encouraging and instructing children, until they learn how to sound it properly. Rabbi Elazar said: This applies even when Rosh HaShana occurs on Shabbat. This is also taught in a baraita: One occupies himself with children until they learn to sound the shofar properly, even on Shabbat. And one does not prevent the children from sounding the shofar on Shabbat, and needless to say one does not prevent them on the festival of Rosh HaShana that occurs on a weekday.  

Let the raucous cacophony of noise continue to be a tradition! Are they really learning with those plastic shofars? Well, they learn the rhythms and the names of the blasts – and most of all, they learn about the shofar, ancient tradition and joy. And the joy of Judaism is precious and has carried us throughout the millennia.

Today’s daf gives us the three sections of the Rosh Hashanah service where we blow shofar: Kingship, Remembrance, and Shofarot. It tells us what verses we recite for each section. It’s really a make a machzor (HHD prayerbook) 101.

But why don’t we include Hallel, these songs of praise that we sing on the Festivals?

Our gem:

The Gemara comments: From the fact that the mishna states: When hallel is recited, one can conclude by inference that on Rosh HaShana there is no recitation of hallel. What is the reason that hallel is omitted on Rosh HaShana? Rabbi Abbahu said: The ministering angels said before the Holy One, Blessed be He: Master of the Universe, for what reason don’t the Jewish people recite songs of praise, i.e., hallel, before You on Rosh HaShana and on Yom Kippur? He said to them: Is it possible that while the King is sitting on the throne of judgment and the books of life and the books of death are open before Him, the Jewish people are reciting joyous songs of praise?

These are serious holidays. Rosh HaShana is Yom haDin – the Day of Judgement. Our fate is sealed on Yom Kippur. Are we really going to sing songs of praises while God is looking over ever bad deed, every failed attempt, every time we did not act when we should have? This Gemara teaches that these are “somber days of judgment whose mood is incompatible with the recitation of hallel.”

Know your audience. That’s the gem. It’s why we don’t say “Happy Yom Kippur.”

But, at the end of the day, when we know we’ve made it, that we get to enter the new year – well, then you can sing and be joyous.

All of masechet Rosh Hashanah has been demonstrating how powerful the rabbis are. The rabbis determine the new month. The rabbis tell us when to blow shofar. The rabbis are the arbiters of the law. Today we get a shocking parallel (or maybe not so shocking) when the rabbis compare themselves to the Shechinah – the Divine presence.

Rav Yehuda bar Idi said that Rabbi Yoḥanan said: The Divine Presence traveled ten journeys, i.e., it left the Temple and Eretz Yisrael in ten stages at the time of the destruction of the First Temple, as derived from verses. And corresponding to them the Sanhedrin was exiled in ten stages at the end of the Second Temple period and after the destruction of the Temple, and this is known from tradition.

Yep. God’s Divine presence left the first Temple (after it’s destruction) and took ten stops before returning to heaven. With the second temple, it’s not God, but the Sanhedrin, the rabbis, that make ten stops.

But before we delve into the chuzpah of the rabbis, a beautifully sad line about the Shechinah waiting for us:

Rabbi Yoḥanan said: For six months the Divine Presence lingered in the wilderness, waiting for the Jewish people, hoping that perhaps they would repent and it would be able to return to its place. When they did not repent, the Divine Presence said: Let them despair and be lost, as it is stated: “But the eyes of the wicked shall fail, and they shall have no way to flee, and their hope shall be the drooping of the soul” (Job 11:20). Then the Shechinah returns to heaven.

How beautiful and sad. God longing for us. Waiting for us in the desert. And we do not come.

How true is this today? God waiting for us, hoping for us, longing for us. . .

Maybe we rely too much on the self. The rabbis make the Sanhedrin the parallel to the Divine presence. They outline just how the Divine Presence moved farther and farther from the Temple, so too, the Sanhedrin moved lower and lower in holiness.

On the one hand, this is something I love about our faith – that it’s in our hands, that we need to make it live. On the other – it’s chutzpadik. And it makes me wonder – is God still there in the wilderness waiting for us (are we so busy with ourselves we miss God’s call, or worse, ignore it)?

A beautiful lesson on the daf today, as pointed out to me by my friend/colleague/chevrutah Rabbi David Young. The Mishnah discusses an instance when the witnesses for the new moon ending the month of Elul and beginning Tishrei were so late that the Levites sang the wrong Psalm (a weekday psalm instead of the Psalm for the Festival):

What error did the Levites make with regard to the song they were supposed to recite? The Gemara answers: Here, in Babylonia, they interpreted that they did not recite any song at all, as they did not know which psalm should be sung, the one for an ordinary weekday or the special one for the Festival. Rabbi Zeira said: Their mistake was that they recited the song of an ordinary weekday with the daily afternoon offering. . .

Granted, if you say that they recited the song of an ordinary weekday, this is a case in which there is a mistake. However, if you say that they did not recite any psalm at all, what mistake is there? The term: Mistake, indicates the performance of an incorrect action.

The Gemara explains: Since they did not recite any psalm at all, you do not have a mistake greater than this.

I love this! How often do we not act or speak because we are afraid we will say or do the wrong thing? But this Gemara teaches us that not acting, not doing, not saying, is even worse than saying the wrong thing.

We should remember this when we have opportunity to engage in tough conversations. Whether that’s because someone is mourning, or because the topic is controversial, or because we fear we are not knowledgeable enough (or woke enough).

Say something. Do something. It may not be perfect. It may be a mistake. But the biggest mistake is to do nothing.

Rabban Yoḥanan ben Zakkai was the leader who kept Judaism alive after the destruction of the Temple by the Romans. He brought Judaism back to life in a new form from Yavneh. Judaism would have to transform if the Temple no longer stood. We often focus on the transition from sacrifice to prayer. But today we get a questions about the sounding of the shofar – a sound that was supposed to come from Jerusalem. What now? What would the Jewish people do when the Temple no longer stood?

After the Temple was destroyed, Rabban Yoḥanan ben Zakkai instituted that the people should sound the shofar even on Shabbat in every place where there is a court of twenty-three judges. The background to this decree is related in greater detail in a baraita, as the Sages taught: Once Rosh HaShana occurred on Shabbat, and all the cities gathered at the Great Sanhedrin in Yavne for the Festival prayers. Rabban Yoḥanan ben Zakkai said to the sons of Beteira, who were the leading halakhic authorities of the generation: Let us sound the shofar, as in the Temple. They said to him: Let us discuss whether or not this is permitted. He said to them: First let us sound it, and afterward, when there is time, let us discuss the matter. After they sounded the shofar, the sons of Beteira said to Rabban Yoḥanan ben Zakkai: Let us now discuss the issue. He said to them: The horn has already been heard in Yavne, and one does not refute a ruling after action has already been taken. There is no point in discussing the matter, as it would be inappropriate to say that the community acted erroneously after the fact.

Ha!

I love this text for many reasons. One, it’s just a funny accounting of how clever Rabban Yoḥanan ben Zakkai was. But more importantly, it shows how Judaism needed to continue in a new form.

Judaism provides important values that are timeless. Our traditions give us important frameworks to do important internal work (self improvement, reflection, etc) as well as opening us up to the world around us, its beauty, its needs, the needs of others. Rabban Yoḥanan ben Zakkai knew that we needed to continue to do – to continue to keep the holidays, read the words, live the values. Is it how the Torah intended? Is it the ideal? Perhaps that doesn’t matter, what matters is that Judaism is able to be lived through the people – that the values endure through concrete action.

If that doesn’t make you feel authentic as a reform Jew, well, then you probably aren’t one 😉

I am giving this Priestly benediction many times today. I had a B’not Mitzvah this morning, am heading to a baby naming, and then am doing a double baby naming at havdallah. So, I say it a lot.

One of the things the founding member of Beth Am, Rabbi Baumgard taught me, was to personalize the translation of the benediction. But today’s daf made me question if that’s kosher.

Rav Shemen bar Abba raised an objection from that which was taught in a baraita: From where is it derived that a priest who went up to the platform to recite the Priestly Blessing should not say: Since the Torah granted me permission to bless the Jewish people, I will add a blessing of my own, which is not part of the Priestly Blessing stated in the Torah, for example: “May the Lord God of your fathers make you a thousand times as many as you are” (Deuteronomy 1:11)? It is derived from the verse that states: “You shall not add to the word which I command you” (Deuteronomy 4:2). But here, since the priest already recited the Priestly Blessing, the time of the mitzva has passed, and according to Rava, after the prescribed time for performing a mitzva, one does not transgress the prohibition against adding to mitzvot, yet it nevertheless teaches that he has transgressed.

So, can I do what my teacher taught me?

It seems that, if I leave the Hebrew the same, and only add to the blessing after completing the Hebrew, and only in the English, I might be okay. Also, if I am just indulging the Hebrew and not really adding to it . . .

But it does make me question if these sacred lines, in Hebrew and in English, should not be touched at all. Perhaps they should not be adjusted for gender or plurality either.

Who am I when I say these lines? I am a conduit. I am merely a conduit of God’s blessing. The blessing isn’t mine. So, who am I to change it?

May the Lord Bless you and keep you.

May God’s countenance shine upon you and be good to you.

May God turn God’s face towards you and give you peace.

A section of today’s daf became a modern source of halakhah during Covid. We know that, for Rosh Hashanah (and Yom Kippur, and Elul) it is a mitzvah to hear the sound of the shofar. But what happens when we are in lock down? When we cannot go to shul? Can we watch a pre-recording? A live stream?

The poskim (law makers) used this text as a piece of their ruling:

Come and hear that which was taught in a mishna: With regard to one who sounds a shofarinto a pit, or into a cistern, or into a large jug [pitas], if he clearly heard the sound of the shofar, he has fulfilled his obligation, but if he also heard the sound of an echo, he has not fulfilled his obligation. But why is this so? If half a blast is indeed considered a complete blast, let him fulfill his obligation with the beginning of the blast, before the sound is confused with the echo, since the beginning of the blast was heard clearly.

So, when thinking of our streaming and videos, one question we need to ask is: Does the loudspeaker create a kol havara (an echo) and thus make it impossible to fulfill the mitzvah of shofar?

According to the research of Rabbi Ethan Tucker, “Rabbi Yosef Engel argues that devices such as a telephone are no more a C,l, i.e. no less direct, than is “unaided” voice transmission, since all sound is transmitted immediately, through vibration of air particles. Thus, he argues, there is reason to permit the hearing of the shofar over telephone wires (and thus in a case such as ours). Similarly, Yerushat Peleita #10 records a responsum of Rabbi Schliissel of Munkacs in which it is argued that electronically transmitted sounds are no different from and no less direct than the actual sounds themselves. In case of pressing need, it is argued, the shofar could be heard this way.”

So, as long as it’s simultaneous there is an argument to be made that we have fulfilled our obligation to hear shofar through a live steam. Pre-recorded? That’s a tougher call.

While we have had two High Holiday services where the congregation could not congregate, we did both. 5781 we pre-recorded. 5782, we live streamed. In both cases, we allowed congregants to drive to campus to hear the shofar, with their own ears.

But today’s gem is just one example of how the Talmud is still pertinent to our choices as Jews today.

Three phenomenal gems:

1. You cannot be found guilty of a crime if there is no one there to testify on your behalf. That leads to an issue on today’s daf when the Sanhedrin witnesses someone commit murder. Now, how can the court be unbiased as they hear opinions? It reminds me of these high profile cases like Derek Chauvin and his very publis murder of George Floyd.
2. The rabbis don’t know the definition of three different words, and the Gemara recounts the three times this happened and how they learned the definitions from a maidservant. Who is wise? Truly someone who learns from everyone. And, just because you have the degree and that other person is doing menial work – don’t think you’re smarter than they are: The Sages did not know the meaning of the word seirugin, which is found in a mishna. One day they heard the maidservant in Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi’s house say to the Sages whom she saw entering the house not all at once, but intermittently: How long shall you enter seirugin seirugin? and from this they understood that the word seirugin means: At intervals.
3. There is a debate on whether we should use the horn of an ibex on Rosh HaShanah, which is straight, or the horn of a ram, which is curved. One Sage, Rabbi Yehuda, holds that on Rosh HaShana the more a person bends his mind and humbles himself by bending in prayer, the better. Therefore, a curved shofar is sounded as an allusion to our bent minds and bodies. But on Yom Kippur, the more a person straightens his mind and prays with simplicity, the better. Therefore, a straight shofar is sounded. The other Sage, the anonymous tanna of the mishna, maintains the opposite: On Rosh HaShana, the more a person straightens his mind and avoids any crookedness, the better. On fasts, on the other hand, the more a person bends his mind and humbles himself, the better. – What gorgeous interpretations. What are we trying to do on the holidays? Two things, 1) Get on the straight and narrow (thank you ibex) and 2) bend to God’s will (ram’s horn). We know which wins.

Today’s gem is either a lovely story about mutual respect and humility – or a story about a leader on a power trip. Today’s gem involves two of the greatest rabbis of their time (really, all time) Rabban Gamliel, the Nasi, and Rabbi Yehoshua, the most influential scholar of the time.

Rabban Gamliel seems a little loosey-goosey on accepting witnesses who see the new moon. Rabbi Yehoshua is much more precise. According to Yehoshua’s calculations, Yom Kippur is a day earlier than Gamliel declares it to be. Then, Gamliel plays out a power move and commands that Yehoshua come to him with money and his staff (both no-no’s on Yom Kippur) on the day Yehoshua beleives to be Yom Kippur.

Read some drama:

And there was another incident in which two witnesses came and said: We saw the new moon at its anticipated time, i.e., on the night of the thirtieth day of the previous month; however, on the following night, i.e., the start of the thirty-first, which is often the determinant of a full, thirty-day month, it was not seen. And nevertheless Rabban Gamliel accepted their testimony and established the New Moon on the thirtieth day.

Rabbi Dosa ben Horkinas disagreed and said: They are false witnesses; how can witnesses testify that a woman gave birth and the next day her belly is between her teeth, i.e., she is obviously still pregnant? If the new moon was already visible at its anticipated time, how could it not be seen a day later? Rabbi Yehoshua said to him: I see the logic of your statement; the New Moon must be established a day later. Upon hearing that Rabbi Yehoshua had challenged his ruling, Rabban Gamliel sent a message to him: I decree against you that you must appear before me with your staff and with your money on the day on which Yom Kippur occurs according to your calculation; according to my calculation, that day is the eleventh of Tishrei, the day after Yom Kippur.

Rabbi Akiva went and found Rabbi Yehoshua distressed that the head of the Great Sanhedrin was forcing him to desecrate the day that he maintained was Yom Kippur. In an attempt to console him, Rabbi Akiva said to Rabbi Yehoshua: I can learn from a verse that everything that Rabban Gamliel did in sanctifying the month is done, i.e., it is valid. As it is stated: “These are the appointed seasons of the Lord, sacred convocations, which you shall proclaim in their season” (Leviticus 23:4). This verse indicates that whether you have proclaimed them at their proper time or whether you have declared them not at their proper time, I have only these Festivals as established by the representatives of the Jewish people.

Rabbi Yehoshua then came to Rabbi Dosa ben Horkinas, who said to him: If we come to debate and question the rulings of the court of Rabban Gamliel, we must debate and question the rulings of every court that has stood from the days of Moses until now. As it is stated: “Then Moses went up, and Aaron, Nadav and Avihu, and seventy of the Elders of Israel” (Exodus 24:9). But why were the names of these seventy Elders not specified? Rather, this comes to teach that every set of three judges that stands as a court over the Jewish people has the same status as the court of Moses. Since it is not revealed who sat on that court, apparently it is enough that they were official judges in a Jewish court.

When Rabbi Yehoshua heard that even Rabbi Dosa ben Horkinas maintained that they must submit to Rabban Gamliel’s decision, he took his staff and his money in his hand, and went to Yavne to Rabban Gamliel on the day on which Yom Kippur occurred according to his own calculation. Upon seeing him, Rabban Gamliel stood up and kissed him on his head. He said to him: Come in peace, my teacher and my student. You are my teacher in wisdom, as Rabbi Yehoshua was wiser than anyone else in his generation, and you are my student, as you accepted my statement, despite your disagreement.

So, a sweet ending with the kiss on the keppe (forehead) and Gamliel calling Yehoshua his teacher . . . or is it?

Gamliel went on a bit of a power trip. This is not the first time nor will it be the last. What happened to the teaching that embarrassing a person is like killing them? Maybe maintaining the authority of the position was more important than the truth in this instance.

I am not sure.

Some read this as a beautiful coming together and humble acceptance of those who think differently. Lovely, but again, I am not sure.

I love the story but will continue to grapple with the moral of the story.

“Thou shalt not make unto thee a graven image, nor any manner of likeness, of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth . . .”

How far does the rule of not making a graven image extend? That is the struggle on today’s daf. Our Mishnah relates: MISHNA: Rabban Gamliel had a diagram of the different forms of the moon drawn on a tablet that hung on the wall of his attic, which he would show to the laymen who came to testify about the new moon. And he would say to them: Did you see a form like this or like this?

The moon was worshipped by some cultures as a god – so, the Gemara wonders, is it permitted? Isn’t it written: “You shall not make with Me gods of silver, or gods of gold” (Exodus 20:19), which is interpreted as teaching: You shall not make images of My attendants, i.e., those celestial bodies that were created to serve God, including the sun and the moon?

The daf is fascinating and makes wonderful points: Abaye said: The Torah prohibited only the images of those attendants with regard to which it is possible to reproduce an item in their likeness. Since it is impossible for anyone to reproduce the sun and the moon, the prohibition does not apply to these objects. (So, I guess our diorama of the planets in school was not idolatrous.)

How far can this prohibition extend? A baraita teaches, not only can we not make images of God, but: A person may not construct a house in the exact form of the Sanctuary, nor a portico in the exact form of the Entrance Hall of the Sanctuary, nor a courtyard corresponding to the Temple courtyard, nor a table corresponding to the table in the Temple, nor a candelabrum corresponding to the candelabrum in the Temple! so, can we not have menorahs in our homes?

Abaye comes to the rescue again, arguing that it’s only the ministering angels whose likeness we cannot produce: Abaye said: This does not include the sun and the moon, as the Torah prohibited only the fashioning of an image of all four faces of the creatures of the Heavenly Chariot together.

Then the idea is posed that, perhaps the prohibition is on worshipping them, and not having them per se . . .

The Gemara asks: If that baraita is referring to the prohibition against worshipping them, then even a tiny worm should also be prohibited. The Gemara answers: Yes, it is indeed so, as it is taught in the same baraita with regard to the continuation of the verse, “in the earth” comes to include mountains and hills, seas and rivers, streams and valleys; “beneath” comes to include a tiny worm. If so, it is indeed possible to explain that the entire baraita is referring to the prohibition against idol worship.

They are arguing about the image of gods, idols, which could really be anything, even a worm. But what about the image of God? There, we only know one place we can look to see God’s image – at another person.

The daf discusses rings that had images of people on them, statues that were in buildings where rabbis would pray – holding that if the image in the ring is caving in, it’s permitted, if the statue is in a public place so you are all there together, it’s okay.

Then we go back to Gamliel and they teach two things – one, he was never alone so it’s permitted, and two, it’s different to use something as a teaching tool than as a point of worship and that there are many things that are prohibited that, for the sake of education, are permitted in this context.

I think of the Jewish artists who struggled to paint within these confines. I think also of how much we value education and learning and understanding things that are not about Judaism.