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

There was once a visitor to the synagogue on the last day of Sukkot. We were waiving the lulav, hitting it on the steps leading up to the bima. The Sukkah outside was standing but a little ragged from the rain of the week. I wondered: What does this person think about what we’re doing? They must think we’re crazy people.

The Torah says nothing about waiving out lulav, and yet we do this in the sukkah and in the sanctuary as well. For those of us who grew up doing it, it doesn’t strike us as strange, but from the outside it’s pretty bizarre. So, why do waive the lulav?

With regard to waving, who mentioned it? . . . We learned in a mishna there (Menaḥot 61a): With regard to the two loaves and the two lambs offered on the festival of Shavuot, how does he perform their waving before the altar? He places the two loaves atop the two lambs, and places his hand beneath them, and waves to and fro to each side, and he raises and lowers them, as it is stated: “Which is waved and which is lifted” (Exodus 29:27), indicating that there is waving to the sides as well as raising and lowering.

So, perhaps we waive the lulav because we waive the Shavuot offerings . . . another idea about why we waive in 6 directions:

Rabbi Yoḥanan said: He moves them to and fro to dedicate them to He Whom the four directions are His. He raises and lowers them to He Whom the heavens and earth are His.

This is the explanation we normally give. But the Talmud also gives alternative reasoning. . . a bit more selfish, a bit more superstitious:

In the West, Eretz Yisrael, they taught it as follows. Rabbi Ḥama bar Ukva said that Rabbi Yosei, son of Rabbi Ḥanina, said: He moves them to and fro in order to request a halt to harmful winds, storms and tempests that come from all directions; he raises and lowers them in order to halt harmful dews and rains that come from above. Rabbi Yosei bar Avin said, and some say that it was Rabbi Yosei bar Zevila who said: That is to say, (p. 38a) non-essential aspects of a mitzva avert calamity, as waving is a non-essential aspect of the mitzva, since even if one failed to wave the loaves he fulfilled his obligation, and nevertheless it halts harmful winds and dews. And Rava said: And likewise one should conduct himself the same way with a lulav, i.e., one should wave it to and fro and raise and lower it for the same reasons.

So, waiving may not be essential, but we do it to ward off bad weather and bad vibes.

When Rav Aḥa bar Ya’akov would move the lulav to and fro, he would say: This is an arrow in the eye of Satan. The Gemara notes: That is not a proper manner of conduct, as it will induce Satan to come to incite him to sin. Gloating due to his victory over the evil inclination will lead Satan to redouble his efforts to corrupt him.

So, waive your lulav with joy – but don’t gloat that it will protect you from Satan or anything else – because then you invite the evil eye.

Perhaps we aren’t told that we waive the lulav to avert calamity for just this reason – we don’t want a false sense of safety. With the latest climate change report, no amount of waiving lulavs will help avert bad weather. We need to step it up in our own actions and demand the governments of the world step it up as well. If we think prayers or waiving will protect us, well, that’s just inviting Satan to incite us to continue to sin against our world.

Wow, it’s hard not to focus in on the rocks that the rabbis carry around with them to use as toilet paper (which are compared to the size of an etrog) . . .

But alas, there is a word definition I want to focus on as today’s gem:

Rava raised a dilemma: If signs of a tereifa developed in the etrog, what is its halakhic status?

What? An etrog can be treif?

The Yiddish word treif (derived from tereifa), is mostly used today to refer to unkosher foods such as pig and shrimp. But in reality, the Yiddish term refers to anything that is unkosher and the word tereifa on our daf is, in fact, used to refer to things that would NORMALLY be kosher, but because something happened to the item is no longer considered kosher. So, a kosher animal within one year of dying is no longer considered kosher. And today, we learn that an etrog that has a whole all the way through it, or one that was partially eaten by a mouse, is also not kosher. They are tereifa.

Just an interesting little gem on how a word we use one way means something similar but different on this page of Talmud.

Today’s daf asks: How do we know that the fruit we use on Sukkot needs to be an etrog? Can it be a pepper tree? (It turns out that peppers are too small, but otherwise the tree would fit the criteria.) Well, if we read the word “hadar” in different ways, it helps to narrow down what fruit will fulfill the mitzvah.

Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi says: Do not read the verse as it is written, hadar, meaning beautiful, but rather read it hadir, meaning the sheep pen. And it means, just as in this pen there are large and small sheep, unblemished and blemished sheep, so too, this tree has large and small fruits, flawless and blemished fruits. The Gemara wonders: Is that to say that among other fruits there are not large and small fruits, flawless and blemished fruits? How does this description identify the etrog specifically? Rather, this is what Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi is saying: Just as in a pen, there are both large and small sheep together, so too, on an etrog tree, when the small ones come into being, the large ones still exist on the tree, which is not the case with other fruit trees.

Rabbi Abbahu said: Do not read it hadar, but rather read it haddar, meaning one that dwells, referring to an item that dwells on its tree from year to year.

This is a line I love – most fruit trees have their season where they grow, ripen, and then fall from the tree – but the etrog is different. Fruit may ripen at different times and, if you don’t pick it, an etrog might stay on the stem for up to a year! This could be used as a metaphor for us spiritually – we may ripen at different times, meaning grow into appreciation of what life, God, and faith has to offer at different times, and we may fall off, or stay connected. E

Ben Azzai says: Do not read it hadar, but rather read it idur, as in the Greek language one calls water idur. And which is the fruit that grows on the basis of all water sources, and not exclusively through irrigation or rainwater? You must say it is an etrog.

I love this too. It reminds me of the Pirke Avot “who is wise? One who learns from everyone.” What fruit is hadar (beautiful)? A fruit that is nourished from every source.

May you find many ways to find nourishment.

I love what happens on today’s daf. It’s a little hard to follow, but bear with me. I will put the text in it’s entirety an then explain below:

The Gemara asks: And according to Rabbi Yishmael, who deems the lulav fit even if the tops of two of the myrtle branches were severed, whichever way you look at it, his statement is problematic. If he requires whole myrtle branches, and those whose tops are severed do not fill the criterion of beauty, let him require all of them to be whole. And if he does not require whole myrtle branches, even one branch should not be required to be whole either, as Rabbi Tarfon said. The Sage Bira’a said that Rabbi Ami said: Rabbi Yishmael retracted his statement. He concedes that, fundamentally, only one myrtle branch is required, and that branch must be whole. Rav Yehuda said that Shmuel said: The halakha is in accordance with the opinion of Rabbi Tarfon. And Shmuel conforms to his line of reasoning, as Shmuel said to those who were selling myrtle branches: Equate the price that you demand for myrtle branches to their value and sell your myrtle branches. And if you do not do so and overcharge, I will teach the halakha in public for you in accordance with the opinion of Rabbi Tarfon, who allows the use of myrtle branches whose tops are severed. What is the reason that Shmuel said that to them? If you say it is because Rabbi Tarfon is lenient in his ruling, let him say to them that he will teach the halakha in public for them in accordance with the opinion of Rabbi Akiva, who is even more lenient in his ruling, as he requires only one myrtle branch. The Gemara answers: That is not the case, as three myrtle branches whose tops are severed are common, but one complete myrtle branch whose top is not severed is not common. In practical terms, Rabbi Tarfon’s ruling is the more lenient.

So, what’s happening and why is it so fabulous? The rabbis are discussing if you can use damaged myrtle branches in your lulav. Rabbi Yishmael says yes you can use the branches, even if the tops are severed! Then, Rabbi Tarfon teaches that you only need to use one myrtle branch, but it should be whole.

Now we get to why I love this section. Rav Yehuda, in the name of Shmuel, is later making the law for his community. How does he decide if the myrtle needs to be whole, needs to be multiple, of could be damaged? Not based on a Torah argument, but based on what the vendors of myrtle branches are charging! He said – only charge people the actual value and I will require of them that they need a full, unsevered, myrtle branch (which are more costly). However, if you try to rip people off and overcharge them, I will rule that the tops can be severed!

In economic terms, during Sukkot, everyone needs to get their own lulav, etrog, hadas and aravah – this means that those who are selling might try to price manipulate, inflate the prices, and make people pay a lot more than they normally would for these items. The Talmud is showing us that, since we have minority opinions, our rabbis are willing to go with the most lenient laws (even when they would rather not) in order to protect the buyer from being taken advantage of.

Don’t take advantage of people. Especially when those people are only trying to do what they’re supposed to do.

I love it.

Much of today’s daf questions if one should bind the lulav, hadass, and aravah or if we simply need to hold them together as we shake our lulav – after all, we don’t bind the etrog. An argument is made that we should bind them together – even if it’s unnecessary:

Whose opinion is it? If the baraita is in accordance with the opinion of Rabbi Yehuda, when he did not bind it, why is it fit? If it is in accordance with the opinion of the Rabbis, what mitzva did he perform? The Gemara answers: Actually, it is in accordance with the opinion of the Rabbis. And the reason that there is a mitzva to bind them is due to the fact that it is stated: “This is my God and I will glorify Him [ve’anvehu]” (Exodus 15:2), which they interpreted to mean: Beautify yourself [hitna’e] before God in the performance of the mitzvot.

Why do I like this little gem? While the Rabbis agree that although failure to bind the three species does not render the lulav unfit for the mitzva, the performance of the mitzva is more beautiful when the lulav is bound. This is a concept called hadar mitzvah – if you can do something to make it nicer, more beautiful, then do it! I love the push for a little extra effort. Yes, you can set the table by dumping things on it, but when you lay things out just so – it makes the whole meal feel special and those who are eating feel cared for. This is great for kids when they are doing assignments as well – you can do just what is asked, or you can put in a little extra effort and it speaks volumes. So too in life we should ask ourselves where there is opportunity to make something beautiful – not because it’s required, but to show care.

One magical memory from my year living in Israel was the day it snowed in Jerusalem. Then entire city is made of JErusalem stone and the ground was incredibly slippery. But I was on a mission. My friends and I were heading to Gey ben Hinnom (the valley of ben Hinnom). We got there and began to play in the snow. Why did we need to go to this place? Because, according to today’s daf – this is the gate of hell. So, we were celebrating, not just snow, but hell freezing over.

Rabbi Maryon said that Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi said, and some say that Rabba bar Mari taught this baraita in the name of Rabban Yoḥanan ben Zakkai: There are two date palms in the valley of ben Hinnom, and smoke arises from between them. And this is the place about which we learned in the mishna: A lulav from the palms of the Iron Mountain is fit. And that site is the entrance of Gehenna.

Now, I am sure you’ve heard that Jews don’t have a hell. Gehenna is our hell. But you need to know what this space was once used for to understand why it got this name.

Jerusalem’s Gei Ben Hinnom, the Valley of the Sons of Hinnom, was named for the Hinnom clan that predated the First Temple period a thousand years BCE, and established the locale as a place of abomination. Here human sacrifice was practiced by this ancient clan. They beat drums to drown out the sounds of children screaming while they were sacrificed alive to the God Molech with their parents watching on. “He defiled Tophet, which is in the Valley of Ben Hinnom, so that no one would make a son or a daughter pass through fire as an offering to Molech” (II Kings 23:10).

Hell on earth – that’s how our ancestors saw this place.

Oddly enough, the beginning of that valley, where we were playing in the snow, is usually a beautiful lush space where concerts and shows are often seen. But deeper into the valley, you can see the vestiges of what once took place. Green grass gives way to a steep, rough and uneven landscape, with shallow caves and pits where one can see hollowed-out chambers and narrow crypts.

Do Jews believe in hell? Yes. But you don’t have to wait for the afterlife to see what hell looks like. Anytime such injustice occurs, especially in the name of a god, well, you’re seeing hell on earth.

Today’s gem begins on the bottom of yesterday’s daf and makes one ask: How do we know if change has really happened:

The Gemara answers that Rav Huna holds: A lulav does not require binding. There is no mitzva to bind the four species together. One need only hold them unbound in his hand; therefore, the myrtle branches undergo no action that effects physical change. And even if you want to say that a lulav requires binding, and therefore the myrtle branches undergo a physical change, it is a change after which the object reverts to its original state. And the principle is: A change after which the object reverts to its original state is not considered a change. It is of no significance with regard to effecting acquisition.

If we revert back, we haven’t really changed at all. Love this! Read further:

The Gemara asks: And let the merchants acquire a myrtle branch with a change of name that it underwent, as initially it was called a myrtle branch, and now that it is designated for use in fulfilling the mitzva, it is called hoshana, which is a term used to describe the four species.

As we move into the High Holy Days, we all are beginning to focus in on what we want to change. We get two gems from this gemara: 1) if you revert back to your old behavior, you haven’t really changed, and 2) when someone has really changed, it’s as if they have a new name. We get a law from this that, if someone used to gamble (for example) and they have reformed, you do not refer to them as a gambler. Whatever vice we have overcome – that no longer gets to define us.

Here’s to good changes.

Two quick gems on today’s daf that both come in a conversation about why a stolen lulav should not be used on Sukkot. The first gem is a short story that shows no one is above the law:

And Rabbi Yoḥanan said in the name of Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai: What is the meaning of that which is written: “For I the Lord love justice, I hate robbery in a burnt-offering” (Isaiah 61:8)? The Gemara cites a parable of a flesh-and-blood king who was passing by a customs house. He said to his servants: Pay the levy to the taxmen. They said to him: Doesn’t all the tax in its entirety belong to you? If the taxes will ultimately reach the royal treasury, what is the point of paying the levy? He said to them: From my conduct, all travelers will learn and will not evade payment of the tax. So too, the Holy One, Blessed be He, said: “I the Lord… hate robbery in a burnt-offering.” Although the whole world is His and the acquisitions of man have no impact upon Him, God says: From My conduct, My children will learn and distance themselves from robbery, even from robbery unrelated to the needs of offerings.

Oh how the daf always comments on modern life!

The second gem is a one liner that I love and as we enter into the High Holy Day season is one we should keep in the forefront of our minds:

A change after which the object reverts to its original state is not considered a change.

What is real change? When we go into the year and review and repent and commit to change – here is a good line for us to keep in mind! If we keep reverting back to the same behavior, then we haven’t really changed. So, when we commit to change, we need concrete actions we will take to move towards that change, and to keep it up!

Today’s daf talks about portents of doom saying that eclipses of the sun, moon, or stars might be harbingers of problems to come. Then it says:

When the Jewish people perform God’s will, they need not fear any of these omens, as it is stated: “Thus says the Lord: Learn not the way of the nations, and be not dismayed at the signs of Heaven; for the nations are dismayed at them” (Jeremiah 10:2). The nations will be dismayed, but the Jewish people will not be dismayed, provided they do not follow the ways of the nations.

The daf then goes into much detail about the bad things we might do to bring misery upon ourselves in terms of misdeeds, injustice, and ritual neglect. But one thing is worse than any of the misdeeds listed:

And the punishment for arrogance is equal to them all.

I love this. Just as we learn that the study of Torah is equal to them all (the mitzvot) because it leads to them all – we see that arrogance leads to the head space wherein we might cheat, steal, and behave in ways where it seems that we think ourselves more important than the people we are ripping off or mistreating.

The antidote to arrogance? Humility:

However, with regard to the humble it is written: “The humble will inherit the land and delight themselves in the abundance of peace” (Psalms 37:11).

When things are going wrong, we need to check our focus on our own self-importance, be humble, see what we can do for others – improve our characters and think about the bigger picture.

Once we stop focusing on ourselves – we may find that the sun, moon, and stars don’t, in fact, revolve around us.

The Greatness of the Sages.

On today’s daf, after the learned Eliezer refuses to answer either 12 or 18 of the 30 questions regarding Sukkot from the people of the upper Galilee because he “did not hear an answer form my teachers,” they ask what the reader wants to ask:

Are all the matters that you know only from what you heard? Don’t you have any ideas of your own?

This results in Eliezer giving examples of why he is a great scholar – and that turns into a reason for the Gemara to innumerate the greatness of many sages:

Eliezer: In all my days, no person ever preceded me into the study hall, as I am always first to arrive; and I never slept in the study hall, neither substantial sleep nor a brief nap; and I never left anyone in the study hall and exited, as I was always last to leave; and I never engaged in idle conversation; rather, I discussed only necessary matters or matters of Torah; and I never said anything that I did not hear from my teacher.

Then we learn that his teacher, Rabban Yoḥanan ben Zakkai, did all the same things (so maybe Eliezer’s example was just more evidence that he doesn’t do anything original): In all his days he never engaged in idle conversation; and he never walked four cubits without engaging in Torah study and without donning phylacteries; and no person ever preceded him into the study hall; and he never slept in the study hall, neither substantial sleep nor a brief nap; and he never contemplated matters of Torah in alleyways filthy with human excrement, as doing so is a display of contempt for the Torah; and he never left anyone in the study hall and exited; and no person ever found him sitting and silent, i.e., inactive; rather, he was always sitting and studying; and only he opened the door for his students, disregarding his own eminent standing; and he never said anything that he did not hear from his teacher; and he never said to his students that the time has arrived to arise and leave the study hall except on Passover eves, when they were obligated to sacrifice the Paschal lamb, and Yom Kippur eves, when there is a mitzva to eat and drink abundantly. And Rabbi Eliezer, his student, accustomed himself to model his conduct after his example.

Next up is Hillel’s students: The Sages taught: Hillel the Elder had eighty students. Thirty of them were sufficiently worthy that the Divine Presence should rest upon them as it did upon Moses our teacher, and thirty of them were sufficiently worthy that the sun should stand still for them as it did for Joshua bin Nun, and twenty were on an intermediate level between the other two. The greatest of all the students was Yonatan ben Uzziel, and the youngest of them was Rabban Yoḥanan ben Zakkai.

The Gemara relates: The Sages said about Rabban Yoḥanan ben Zakkai that he did not neglect Bible; Mishna; Gemara; halakhot and aggadot; minutiae of the Torah and minutiae of the scribes; the hermeneutical principles of the Torah with regard to a fortiori inferences and verbal analogies; the calculation of the calendrical seasons; and numerology [gimmatreyaot]. In addition, he did not neglect esoteric matters, including the conversation of ministering angels; the conversation of demons, and the conversation of palm trees; parables of launderers, which are folk tales that can be used to explain the Torah; parables of foxes; and more generally, a great matter and a small matter. The Gemara elaborates: A great matter is referring to the secrets of the Design of the Divine Chariot, the conduct of the transcendent universe. A small matter is, for example, halakhot that were ultimately formulated in the framework of the disputes of Abaye and Rava. He did not neglect any of these disciplines so as to fulfill that which is stated: “That I may cause those that love me to inherit substance and that I may fill their treasuries” (Proverbs 8:21), as Rabban Yoḥanan was filled with the disciplines of Torah and wisdom.

And if the youngest of them was so prolific, the greatest of them was all the more so prolific. The Gemara relates that the Sages said of Yonatan ben Uzziel, the greatest of Hillel’s students, that when he sat and was engaged in Torah study, the sanctity that he generated was so intense that any bird that flew over him was immediately incinerated.

I love this escalation of greatness. We begin with a man who seems to have no original ideas, but his greatness is in how fastidiously he studies and upholds his teachers teachings – and end with a man so incredible learned he has super powers wherein birds are burnt up by his greatness.

I suppose the lesson is that walking in the footsteps on those who came before you is also a kind of greatness. We don’t always have to create something new to be great, we can just do the right thing with what we’ve been taught.