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

Today’s daf continues to establish how the calendar is counted (for kings). It wants to make a point that Moses gives his oration (Deuteronomy) after Aaron has died. Within this we get a beautiful Torah interpretation about Aaron’s presence that is today’s gem:

The Gemara rejects this argument: It should not enter your mind to say this, as it is written that Moses delivered his oration “after he had slain Sihon” (Deuteronomy 1:4), and when Aaron died Sihon was still alive, as it is written: “And when the Canaanite, the king of Arad, who dwelt in the South, heard tell that Israel came by the way of Atharim; and he fought against Israel” (Numbers 21:1). What report did he hear? He heard that Aaron had died, and that the clouds of glory had withdrawn from the Jewish people, and he thought that he had been granted permission to wage war against the Jewish people. And this is as it is written: “And all the congregation saw that [ki] Aaron was dead, and they wept for Aaron thirty days, all the house of Israel” (Numbers 20:29).

How beautiful! While Aaron was with the Jewish people, they had the protection of the clouds of glory. But when he died they departed. They now give more proof of this understanding:

About this, Rabbi Abbahu said: Do not read the verse as: “And they saw [vayiru]”; rather, read it as: “And they were seen [vayeira’u]” by others, because the cover of the clouds of glory had been removed from them.

And Reish Lakish takes it one step further and says, and says don’t read the verse as “And all the congregation saw that [ki] Aaron was dead,” read it as “And all the congregation was seen because [ki] Aaron was dead.”

And the next word, “that [ki],” should be understood as meaning because, in accordance with the statement of Reish Lakish, as Reish Lakish said: The word ki is used in the Bible in four senses: If, perhaps, but, and because. Therefore, the verse should be understood as follows: And all the congregation was seen, i.e., revealed, because Aaron had died. This shows that at the time of Aaron’s death Sihon was still alive; perforce, Moses’ oration, which was delivered after he had slain Sihon, must have occurred later.

It also shows the weight of the presence that Aaron had amongst the Jewish people. Aaron was known as the peace maker. He was the person people went to when they were sick, when they were upset. He was there in Egypt as a slave, just like them. Now, he was their counselor, their priest, their cushion between Moses and themselves. He was a conduit for them to give thanks, ask forgiveness, and commune with God.

When he died, the clouds of Glory left them. Perhaps literally. Certainly metaphorically. People felt more vulnerable, more exposed.

How true. How vulnerable we feel when a loved one dies.

Happy New Years! (Get it?) This tractate kicks off by describing not one, not two, but four different New Years! Our daf focuses in on one – the New Year of the King:

They are four days in the year that serve as the New Year, each for a different purpose: On the first of Nisan is the New Year for kings . . .

Already confused? Don’t worry, we will have 34 days to discuss . . . The introductory Mishnah lists different days that serve as the new year for different matters. The first New Years day the Mishnah mentions is the first of Nisan, the Rosh Hashanah for Melachim, New Year for Kings. The Gemara asks, l’Melachim l’Mai Hilchesa, what practical relevance is there for a Rosh Hashanah for kings?

Rav Ḥisda said: It is for determining the validity of documents.

In the ancient world the year would be determined by the reign of the king. So, for example, when writing a marriage contract, one might have said the couple married during the third year of king so-and-so. The calendar year would shift back to zero (or quickly to one as we read on the daf) when a new king took the throne. Our Gemara focuses in on loans and needing to know precise dates on promissory notes.

We like to joke that when the new year comes, it’s confusing because “I keep writing 5781 on my checks” hahah (remember when people wrote checks?). But this is my true gem for the day.

While kingdoms began to count from zero with every new king (and Christianity retroactively starting counting from Jesus’s birth -BC and AD – in year 525AD), Judaism counts from a Torah calculated day, not of the creation of a king , but from the 6th day of creation – the creation of our world with all the flora, fauna, and people.

How beautiful. Kings come and go. Rulers change. Creation continues.

Happy 5782.

Mazal tov! Today we finish tractate Beitzah.

We end with a few interesting questions: Can I send home left-overs with my Shabbat guests – or, since the food belongs to me (the home owner) would that be having them carry things outside of their Shabbat limit? If someone asks you to watch something that belongs to them (animal, fruit, item), who is liable if damage incurs? What’s the difference between a desert animal and a domesticated animal?

My gem comes from the discussion around the last question (bear with me):

Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi says: Both these and those are considered domestic animals and may be slaughtered on the Festival. Rather, these are desert animals that may not be slaughtered on the Festival: All those that go out and graze in the pasture and do not enter the settled area, neither in the summer nor in the rainy season.

The Gemara asks concerning Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi’s opinion: And does Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi in general accept the concept of muktze? But didn’t Rabbi Shimon, son of Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, inquire of Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi: Unripe dates that are placed in a basket to ripen until they are edible, what is the halakha according to Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai? Are they considered muktze or not? He said to him in response: There is no recognition of the halakha of muktze according to Rabbi Shimon, except for the case of dried figs and raisins in the midst of the drying process alone.

Okay, now background for my gem. Both these desert animals, and the dates – are things you would not eat in their current state (figs are unripe and the desert animals are not close by for you to be able to slaughter) but they are things you could eat later (when they ripen, when they return from their wanderings). The Gemara argues that, these are different from grapes that would dry into raisins, or sheep or other domesticated animals that you can eat or wait to eat. Steinsaltz teaches that grapes “are fruits that are fit to be eaten fresh and were deliberately removed from use to allow them to undergo a drying process, during which time they are inedible; they have therefore been actively removed from one’s mind for the interim. Unripe dates, however, are unfit to be eaten fresh and become fit for eating only when they are ripe. Therefore, if one places unripe dates in a basket to ripen, they are never completely removed from his mind, not having been changed from an edible state to an inedible state, and are permitted. If so, desert animals, which are similarly never completely removed from one’s mind, should also not be considered muktze.”

I like this because it’s asking about – what’s on your mind? What are you thinking about? What’s on the back-burner of your brain? I relate to this in a couple of ways. One, when I go to the grocery store, I will often buy something and have it in my head to eat it as soon as I can. Sometimes I just have to wait till I get home, but sometimes it’s an avocado and I have to wait for it to ripen. Even when I am not eating it, I am waiting to eat it. And two, and this is the bigger connection for me, I, like many women I know (do men do this too?) always have a running list of things that need to happen in the back of my head. From household chores, to my children’s homework, to my own work, to phone calls I need to make, to people who are sick . . . it really never ends. Are those things mukzeh on a festival? Can I put aside all the items on the to-do list? Or are they really always there, always on my mind, just waiting for the time to be ripe?

Today’s gem is that the opening ceremony to the Olympics might be inspired by laws around Shabbat, the eiruv, and how to pass a flame.

We have been reading that the owner of an item’s feet determine how far that object is allowed to travel on Shabbat or a festival. What does this mean? We learned in Eruvin all about the limits of travel on Shabbat and how you have to mark your eruv (travel limits) before Shabbat commences. So, whatever you can carry, can also only be carried where you, personally, can walk.

But now we get the exception:

A coal that one borrowed from another on the Festival is as the feet of the owner, and it may be carried on the Festival to any place where its owner may walk. Since it has substance, it is associated with its owner. But a flame that one lit from another’s flame may be taken anywhere . . . Similarly, one who takes out a coal from a private domain to the public domain on Shabbat is liable for the prohibited labor of carrying, but one who takes out a flame is exempt.

Are you also picturing people passing flames from Shabbat limit to Shabbat limit Olympic games style?

Well, now you are.

Often, I find myself laughing at the kind of smack-talk that goes on in the Talmud. Who would have thought this righteous sages would rag on one another? But today’s scene made me wonder if it’s not just colleagues giving each other a hard time – but if it really hurt people.

It begins with Rabbi Abba literally praying he won’t embarrass himself:

When Rabbi Abba ascended from Babylonia to Eretz Yisrael, he said: May it be God’s will that I say a statement of halakha that will be accepted by my listeners in Eretz Yisrael, so that I will not be put to shame.

We can see he is nervous, that maybe this is the “cool” group and he is worried he will blow it.

When he ascended, he found Rabbi Yoḥanan, Rabbi Ḥanina bar Pappi, and Rabbi Zeira, and some say he found Rabbi Abbahu, Rabbi Shimon ben Pazi, and Rabbi Yitzḥak Nappaḥa, and they were sitting and saying in a discussion of the mishna: Why is this the halakha with regard to dough? But let the water and salt be considered nullified in the dough, and the status of the dough should follow its flour rather than its minor ingredients, such as water and salt.

They’re wondering at the reason behind a ruling on today’s daf. This is Rabbi Abba’s big chance to show his stuff:

Rabbi Abba said to them: If one’s single kav of wheat became mingled with ten kav of another’s wheat, shall the latter eat all eleven kav and rejoice? One does not allow his property to become nullified into someone else’s property. The same applies to water and salt in dough.

Okay, he shot his shot . . . now we see how it goes:

The Sages laughed at him.

Ugh. Just what he feared most! But he stands up for himself:

He said to them: Did I take your cloaks from you that you are putting me to shame? They again laughed at him.

Yep. They laugh at him again.

We see, on the page, Rav Safra getting his back . . . on the daf it’s a few lines later, but in real time it’s a century later.

Rabbi Abba was the new Sage in town. He was tall, rich, and brilliant. Maybe the Sages wanted to knock him down a peg. Maybe they were just jealous. Whatever their excuse, they were certainly not compassionate.

The gem? Even the greatest of us have feelings that can be hurt. Even the greatest of us mess up and hurt others. Talking smack may be funny – but not when the person is new, and not when what you say is really hurtful.

Yesterday, we read in a Mishnah: And the following are acts that are prohibited on Shabbat and are notable because they are optional, i.e., which involve an aspect of a mitzva but are not complete mitzvot: One may not judge, nor betroth a woman, nor perform ḥalitza, which is done in lieu of levirate marriage, nor perform levirate marriage.

Today’s daf wonders: Why isn’t marriage considered a complete mitzvah?

Nor betroth a woman: The Gemara asks: Why is this categorized as optional, indicating that it is not a full-fledged mitzva? But doesn’t one perform a full-fledged mitzva when he marries? Rashi argues it is a full-fledged mitzvah because he can then fulfill the mitzvah of being “fruitful and multiplying.” The Gemara answers: No, it is necessary for the mishna to categorize it as optional, because it is dealing with a case in which he already has a wife and children, so that he has already fulfilled the mitzva to be fruitful and multiply, and his betrothal of another woman is only an optional act.

Why is this passage my gem (especially when my reaction to reading it is to say “yuck”)? Because it gives us a chance to sit with Rashi and the sages of the Gemara and make an argument. I don’t agree that the reason it’s not considered a full complete mitzvah is because the man is marrying his second wife. Why? Because, I too, have read a lot of Talmud.

In Yevamot 65b, we read:

Yehudit, the wife of Rabbi Ḥiyya, had acute birthing pain from these unusual deliveries. She changed her clothes to prevent Rabbi Ḥiyya from recognizing her and came before Rabbi Ḥiyya to ask him a halakhic question. She said: Is a woman commanded to be fruitful and multiply? He said to her: No. She went and drank an infertility potion.

Women are not commanded to be fruitful and multiply, that mitzvah is only on the man. It’s a general rule that you cannot be commanded to do something that puts your life in danger, so birth is not commanded of women – just something many women want for themselves.

I sit and read with Rashi and argue with him that his argument that it’s a complete mitzvah to marry because then you can so the mitvah of being fruitful and multiplying and say to him: but that only falls on the man. Can marriage really be a complete mitzvah and therefor override the Festival when only half the couple is obligated to reproduce (his world is heteronormative of course)?

This is my gem today as well as we see the battle over reproductive rights begin to rage again in our country. Rav Hiyya’s wife is a great teacher. Are women required to reproduce if they don’t want to? There is certainly a Jewish argument that says it’s up to the woman, and that she is not obligated.

Okay, this one made me laugh out loud . . .

It was taught in the mishna: And one may place a vessel beneath a leak in order to catch the water on Shabbat. A Sage taught in a baraita: If the vessel became full with the leaking water, he may pour out its contents, place the vessel back under the leak, and repeat the entire process if necessary, and he need not refrain from doing so.

The Gemara relates a story: Abaye’s millhouse once developed a leak on Shabbat. Abaye was concerned about the potential damage to the millstones, which were made partly of clay and which would become ruined from the leaking water, and he did not have enough buckets to catch all the water without emptying and refilling them. But the water was unfit for drinking and was therefore muktze and could not be removed. Abaye came before Rabba to ask him how to proceed. Rabba said to him: Go and bring your bed into the millhouse, so that the dirty water will be considered like a container of excrement, which, despite being muktze, may be removed from one’s presence due to its repulsive nature, and then remove the water.

Abaye sat and thought and examined the matter and posed a difficulty: And may one initiate a situation of a container of excrement, i.e., may one intentionally place any repulsive matter into a situation which will bother him and will then have to be removed, ab initio?

In the meantime, as he was deliberating the issue, Abaye’s millhouse collapsed. He said: I had this coming to me for having gone against the words of my master, Rabba, by not following his ruling unquestioningly.

Ha!

Abaye seeks out his teacher’s thoughts on how to save his millstones and when his teacher gives him a solution he begins to debate the minutia of the law – and during this time the rainwater continues to poor into the millhouse and it collapses before Abaye does anything to save his space.

So many lessons. 1) Sometimes you need to just trust the authority, do what is asked of you, and ask questions later. 2) Sometimes you need a fast answer and a fast reaction. 3) Sometimes we get so bogged down in process we lose out on opportunities. It reminds me of my friend and colleagues Miriam Ternlinchamp’s video: Little Table.

Enjoy

In Maseket Sukkot, we learned that, while the ideal is that we eat, sleep and spend as much time as possible in the Sukkah – that if it rains, or it smells, or if we are otherwise experiencing discomfort – we can go inside the house.

Today’s daf deals with rain as well. But instead of physical discomfort, it deals primarily with financial discomfort. If it begins to rain on a festival, and you have fruit drying on the roof, can you move it (which would normally be prohibited) to prevent a financial loss? What about if the roof is leaking – can we cover things inside the house? What if that means moving items that were deemed “mukseh” (things that are set aside and not used on the festival day)?

Our rabbis seem to have a practical take on the issue:

One may lower produce, which had been laid out on a roof to dry, into the house through a skylight on a Festival, in order to prevent it from becoming ruined in the rain. Although it is a strenuous activity, it is permitted do to so on a Festival in order to prevent a financial loss; however, one may not do so on Shabbat. And one may cover produce inside a building with cloths to prevent damage due to a leak in the ceiling over it, and similarly one may cover jugs of wine and jugs of oil for the same reason. And one may place a vessel beneath a leak in order to catch the water on Shabbat, to prevent it from dirtying the house.

I love the openness of this daf in that it takes into account the larger goal of the festival – yes, the festival is a day to rejoice, to not work, to eat good food and pray and study – a day to enjoy. But can we really enjoy the day if we are sitting in a room with a leaky roof and doing nothing to prevent damage? Can we really enjoy the day if we are forced to not perform an action that can save us from significant financial loss?

I love that our rabbis, today and ancient, ask themselves about the bigger picture, about what is practical, about what the people will do whether they rule one way or another. I love that they want to give us boundaries to help us feel part of a people, but leave the boundaries semi-permeable so that we can feel part of the world.

Today’s gem comes from one of the myriad commentaries written on our daf, commenting on the following Mishna:

MISHNA: And Rabbi Eliezer further stated the following leniency: A person may stand over objects in storage, such as produce that he has for some reason previously set aside from use, on Shabbat eve during the Sabbatical Year, during which no tithes are separated, which means one may take fruit on the following day without the need for any corrective measure, and say: From here, from these fruits, I will eat tomorrow. And the Rabbis say: He may not eat unless he marks the pile of fruit the day before and explicitly says: From here to there I will take.

HaRav Moshe Sofer, who lived around 190 years, ago and authored “Ohr P’nei Moshe” relates this passage to teshuvah! The passage teaches that Rabbi Eliezer says that you can simply stand over your produce in a Sabbatical year and say “from this point on, I will eat tomorrow” while the Rabbis insist that you need to make a mark to show your intention. HaRav Moshe Sofer compares this to teshuvah (repentance). You may apologize and say – this is how I am going to behave, “from this point on;” but to really show you have changed and repented, you need signs, you need to actually change things.

I love this. One, I love the lesson – don’t just say you’ll change, don’t just say you’re sorry – do something about it. And two – I love that when you study daf yomi, you are not only studying with Jews all around the world, and not just studying with ancient rabbis and medieval rabbis – you are also studying with rabbis who lives 190 years ago. We, all of us, are part of one conversation asking – what does this mean to my life today?

I remember noticing, when we first started dating, that my husband would use any scrap paper to pick his teeth – even the receipt from the restaurant. When I met his father, I saw that this was something he learned from his dad. (One year I even bought him a personal container of toothpicks – to this day I still think it was the best gift I ever gave him.) So, of course I thought of them as I read today’s daf:

As it is taught in a baraita: Rabbi Eliezer says: On Shabbat or a Festival, a person may take a sliver of wood from before him to clean his teeth with it, and the Rabbis say: One may take a toothpick only from an animal’s trough; since it is fit for animal fodder, it is considered prepared for all purposes. And they agree that he may not pluck it from a tree. And if he did pluck it to clean his teeth with it or to use it as a key and open a door with it, if he did so unwittingly on Shabbat, he is liable to bring a sin-offering. If he did so intentionally on a Festival, he receives the forty lashes administered to one who desecrates the Festival by performing labor. These are the words of Rabbi Eliezer.

Apparently using random scraps to pick your teeth is an ancient practice! But apparently breaking off a twig to use during Shabbat or a festival is a big no-no. . . but not as bad as we read above where the punishment is a sin offering or lashes:

And the Rabbis say: Both this and this, whether one did so on Shabbat or a Festival, even if he plucked it by hand to use it as a key, it is prohibited only due to a rabbinic decree. . . . Therefore, the Rabbis who state there, in the case of plucking a toothpick, that he is exempt but it is prohibited.

Don’t do it, but you won’t be punished if you do.

All those years ago, my husband expressed to me that when he gets something between his teeth, he is so uncomfortable and that it distracts him from enjoying himself. Perhaps that is what is happening here as well. On a day of celebration, we do not want to be uncomfortable and distracted from enjoying the preciousness of the moment. Not when it’s something a little toothpick could relieve.