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

Today’s gem: The Gemara relates that Rav Ashi happened to come to the city of Meḥoza. The Sages of Meḥoza said to him on Shabbat day: Will the Master recite for us the great kiddush? And they immediately brought him a cup of wine. He thought: What is this great kiddush? He said to himself: Since with regard to all the blessings that require a cup of wine, one first recites the blessing: Who creates the fruit of the vine, I will start with that blessing. He recited: Who creates the fruit of the vine, and lengthened it to see if they were expecting an additional blessing. He saw a particular elder bending over his cup and drinking, and he realized that this was the end of the great kiddush. He read the following verse about himself: “The wise man, his eyes are in his head” (Ecclesiastes 2:14).

Hilarious. As we have learned, different locations may follow local customs and so things may be done slightly different from community to community. Here, Rav Ashi is asked to lead kiddish – but they call it the “great kiddush.” Friday nights kiddish is long, but Saturday morning is short – just who blesses the fruit of the vine – he was unsure of what to do. So, what does he do? He says the blessing and then stalls to see if they are expecting more. I love this moment where he sees an elder drink and so he stops. It reminds me of when you trip and pretend you meant to just jog a few steps. It’s an oops, but he catches it quick. And I love that he prises himself for being observant. IT is a gift to be able to read a situation – and if only all of us rabbis knew when to stop talking from social cues!

Today’s gem comes forma humble man who teaches 8 (yes 8) halakhot with one teaching – and teaches us a very important rule: we prolong Shabbat, we don’t rush it away.

He (Rav Nachman bar Yitzchak) said to him (Ravina): I am neither a scholar, nor a speculator, nor an important individual; rather, I teach and systematically arrange halakhic rulings, and the scholars instruct the students in the study hall in accordance with my opinion. I maintain that there is a difference for us between the arrival of the day of Shabbat and the departure of the day. With regard to the arrival of the day, the sooner we welcome the day by reciting kiddush the better, and we thereby express how beloved it is to us. With regard to the conclusion of the day, we delay it so that Shabbat will not appear to be like a burden to us.

LOVE!

Frist, I love his modesty – I am not an important person or scholar, I am just a teacher. . . Second, I love the teaching about prolonging Shabbat.

One of the things I loved about living in Jerusalem is that people would say goodbye to you at the grocery store with “Shabbat Shalom” . . . on Wednesday!

One thing we do at our Jewish Day School is make havdala together on Monday mornings – it is a way for us to separate the weekend from the school week, and for those kids who don’t have havdala regularly on Saturday night – they see the havdala ceremony.

Both of these (early Shabbat wishes and late havdala) are because of this humble non-scholar’s teaching. You’re awesome Rav Nachman bar Yitzchak.

Today’s gem is: if you want credit, you better put in the work! Amidst trying to answer the question of what blessings one says at havdala, we get a story of a father wanting a son to go and learn from another master; and that son passing on his duties to someone else:

The Gemara relates: Ulla happened to come to Pumbedita. Rav Yehuda said to his son, Rav Yitzḥak: Go and bring him a basket of fruit as a gift, and while you are there, observe how he recites havdala. Rav Yitzḥak himself did not go. In his place, he sent to him Abaye, who was a young student at the time. When Abaye came back, Rav Yitzḥak said to him: How did Ulla recite the blessing of havdala? Abaye said to him that Ulla said: Blessed is He Who distinguishes between sacred and profane, but he did not say anything further.

Rav Yitzḥak came before his father, Rav Yehuda, who said to him: How did Ulla recite havdala? He said to him: I did not go. Instead, I sent Abaye, who said to me that Ulla recited: Who distinguishes between sacred and profane. Rav Yehuda grew angry and said to him: The Master’s haughtiness and the Master’s pride caused the Master to act in a way that ensured that the halakha will not be said in his name. In other words, had you gone yourself, this halakha would have been attributed to you, but due to your haughtiness and pride, it will be transmitted in the name of Abaye.

Jews throughout time might have thought of Yehuda when we recited havdala, but instead we will (perhaps) think of him anytime we delegate something that we should not have delegated.

Maybe Rav Yehuda is okay with this outcome, I am not sure, but I surely do love the story and that fact that it is recorded. It feels so true of a parent who wants their child to shine. So true of a child who is capable of so much but doesn’t look for opportunities to push themselves into the spotlight. And so true of how we learn – by watching others and following their example.

May we learn havdala from Abaye, and to do what we are asked from the (negative) example of Yehuda.

When you have to explain a joke – that’s not a good sign. That’s how I feel reading today’s daf. The rabbis love to give acronyms to help us remember the order of things, and today we get a wonderful acronym to help us remmeber the order of blessing things when Shabbat ends as the festival of PAssover begins (and we have to make Havdalah AND begin the Seder and festival blessings).

Opinion 1: Abaye said that the proper order is yod, kuf, zayin, nun, heh. 

Opinion 2: Rava said the order is yod, kuf, nun, heh, zayin. 

And, the winner goes to: The halakhah is in accordance with the opinion of Rava.

Each of these letters symbolize a piece of the blessings – as they are the fisrt letter int he hebrew of that action (yod – wine; kuf – kiddish; nun – candle; hey – havdalah; and zayin – the time/festival). But, how do we remember the order? You can simply say the acronym “YaKNeHaZ” to remind yourself of the correct order of blessings. 

Think that’s a hard word to remember? Well, the rabbis didn’t because it sounded like another phrase: jag den has. Apparently, this meant hunt for rabbit. Mind you, rabbit is not kosher – and so, if you dont’ know what this stands for, then seeing depictions on old haggadot of a rabbit hunt is very strange indeed.

Inside joke – totally needs to be explained. But, also helpful for us to remember this mnemonic tool.

Today’s gem:

Rav Huna said that Rav Sheshet said: One does not recite two sanctifications, i.e., for two mitzvot such as Grace after Meals and kiddush, over one cup. What is the reason for this halakha? Rav Naḥman bar Yitzḥak said: Because one does not perform mitzvot in bundles.

If you have a sibling, you know the feeling of having to share attention. This is good, and healthy – we should not be the sun around which our parents orbit. However, you also know that sometimes just want the attention to be on you. Every person needs their moment to shine, their moment to feel as if they’re the sun. Our gem teaches us, that this is true of mitzvot as well.

“One does not perform mitzvot in bundles” does not mean that we don’t do as many mitzvot as we can, it means that we give each mitzvah is’t own moment. When doing a mitzvah we give it our attention, our Kavanah. The gloss says, “If someone performs multiple mitzvot all in one go, he gives the impression that they are a burdensome obligation that he wants to complete as fast as possible.”

Things, and people, need their own moment.

It’s not uncommon (pre-covid) that I would make kiddush at temple, lead services, then come home to have my Shabbat meal. So, today’s daf asks a question that I have had as well: if you make kiddish at shul, do you need to make it again when you come home?

According to Rav: if you made kiddish at shul, you need to do it again when you get home for the sake of your family members (so they can hear it); but this implies that if you live alone, the blessing said at shul woudl have you “covered” for the rest of the evening.

Shmuel disagrees. In his opinion, the blessing said in shul is only for visitors who are sleeping in the synagogue, but even if you live alone, you say the kiddish again when you get back to your house.

Then we get a great rule – kiddish must be said in the place where you eat.

I love this little gem. First, I have leanred to go ahead and say the kiddish again when I get home (which I did anyways because of the same thinking as Rav – I wanted my kids to hear). And second, there is something so Shabbisdic about blessing and then sitting down to enjoy the food and company. The holiness of Shabbat is not just the prayers, but also in what is found around that table – special food, special people, special wine, and singing blessings only elevates it further.

Looking forward to Shabbas.

The “magic” of Shabbat.

When you ask a rabbi why we cover our eyes and say the blessing after we light the Shabbat candles, you will likely get a lovely drash, but the real reason is a bit of magic. The order of blessing (in general, lots of exceptions) is 1) say the blessing, 2) do the action. We bless the wine, then drink, bless the challah then eat – but you can’t do that with Shabbat candles as if you say the blessing, then Shabbat has begun, and you can no longer light the candles. So, we do a bit of magic. We light the candles and cover our eyes, pretending they are not lit, then we say the blessing and open our eyes and – voila – magically the Shabbat candles are lit.

Why am I talking about this?

Well, there is a bit of that same Shabbat magic on today’s daf. The question is, if we are sitting down to our seder meal, and eating, when the time comes to make Shabbat kiddish – what do you do? Do you move the table out of the room (apparently people had TV tray type tables they ate off of for a time)? How do you make it Shabbat time?

The Gemara relates: Rabba bar Rav Huna happened to come to the house of the Exilarch. His hosts were reclining for a meal (that Passover reclining), and the attendants brought a table before him so he could eat as well. Since Shabbat had already started, he spread a cloth over the food and recited kiddush. That was also taught in a baraita: And the Sages agree . . . if one brought out the table before kiddush, he should spread a cloth over the food and recite kiddush.

We take a cover, spread it over the food, and then recite the Shabbat blessings. Then, when we remove the cover – voila – and make the motzie over challah – it is “as if” we are magically at a new meal, our Shabbat meal.

My gem? Well, I am a rabbi who teaches that we cover the challah on Shabbat so as to not hurt it’s feelings (since it is the last thing to be blessed). If we worry about the feelings of bread, all the more so we should worry about the feelings of other people. But, here, on today’s daf, might be the real reason – so we can pull off the cover and -voila – whatever was on our table is not special for the Shabbat meal.

A gem in the first line! And a great way to end the chapter on “one who was impure and had to observe the second Passover.”

Background according to the Mishna: In the case of two individuals whose Paschal lambs became intermingled and each person was the only one registered for his offering, what should they do? They have a lottery! Pick their animal from drawing lots, registere a second person for their animal and this is what they say: If this Paschal lamb is mine, you are withdrawn from yours and you are registered for mine, and if this is your Paschal lamb, I am withdrawn from mine and I am hereby registered for yours. . . from this we get our gem on the top of today’s daf:

From here the Sages stated: Silence is fitting for the wise, and a fortiori the same is true for fools. (Meaning, if silence is fitting for wise people – all the more so it is fitting for fools!) This is as it is stated: “Even a fool, when he holds his peace, is considered wise; and he that shuts his lips is esteemed as a man of understanding” (Proverbs 17:28).

What’s happening? In the case under discussion, had neither side appointed the other to slaughter the Paschal lamb on its behalf, both offerings would be valid and would be consumed. However, if they do it as it’s described above – with each desgnating the other to slaughter on their behalf – then, as we read on the of yesterday’s daf: If he, the agent, said to the other members of the group that if they slaughter their Paschal lamb first they should include him, and they said to him that if he slaughters his Paschal lamb first he should include them, all of them eat from the first Paschal lamb that was slaughtered, and the second one must be burned. What a waste!

And what a lesson: Silence is fitting for the wise, and all the more so for fools.

Reminds me of Silent Bob from such movies as Clerks, Mallrats, Chasing Amy and Dogma. He was a character who never really spoke, hence the name Silent Bob. But, on the rare occasions he did, it was as if he was the Buddha – full of wisdom and clarity that none of the other characters seemed to have.

Rabbi Bookman once told me that before I speak (when giving advice) I should ask myself: Do I need to say this? and Do they need to hear this?

Wise words. I’ll stop talking.

There is a scene on today’s daf, where a father is on his deathbed and yet they register him for a pascal lamb. The question is about if the son inherits this lamb if his father dies if he hasn’t been registered to it prior.

While the conversation has little to do with our world today, it does lead one to think about what we want our children to inherit and what we should give them rights to in our lifetimes so that there is no question after our deaths. I also read about situation where the lamb that the father was registered for, yet the son was not registered, has to go to pasture until it dies, or if it was slaughtered has to be burnt and not consumed – and I think of all the waste that happens when someone passes – all the things that just get tossed.

Morbid morning reading the daf.

Reading today’s daf I had “I once, was lost, but now I’m found; was blind, but now I see!” running through my mind. But maybe “Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep” woudl have been more fitting.

Today’s daf questions what we do when the pascal offering wanders away and becomes lost, so we take another lamb or goat and designate that for sacrifice, only to find the first lamb who was left “alone and they’ll come home, Bringing their tails behind them.” Now you have two sheep designated for the same purpose! What do you do?

The answer depends on when the sheep came back, if the sacrifice already happened or not, and – as always – which rabbi is talking.

Perhaps since my name, Rachel, means little lamb, I draw from this a lesson for humans who wander. . . you can always come back, but you may have lost your place in your wanderings. So, sometimes we need to commit.

In our world today, we are often so scared of closing any doors, of losing any part of our freedom, and so we don’t commit. As Rabbi Sacks says in his book Morality, “We seem to be making choices all the time, but too often they are choices not to choose, not to foreclose future options.”

What happens to that lamb who comes back? Either it fulfills a new purpose (as a peace offering), or it’s “put out to pasture” (pun totally intended).

According to the Rabbis, this animal goes for grazing, as we learned in a mishna: If one separated his sin-offering and it was lost, and he separated another in its place and the first was found, and therefore both are available, then one of them, whichever he chooses, is sacrificed, as he may bring only one offering, and the second shall be caused to die; this is the statement of Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi.

So, I started with two songs – I will end with one more. What can we learn from this daf? while wandering is an important piece of life and learning who we are, eventually we need to commit if we want to live lives of meaning. . . As Hamilton says, “I’m not giving away my shot.”