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

Where does change really start? In the tune of yesterday’s daf, today’s teaches:

This teaches that his atonement precedes the atonement of his household; the atonement of his household precedes that atonement of his brethren, the priests; the atonement of his brethren, the priests, precedes the atonement of the entire community of Israel.

Reminds me of this amazing teaching from Mussar teacher Rabbi Yisrael Salanter:

“When I was a young man, I wanted to change the world. I found it was difficult to change the world, so I tried to change my nation. When I found I couldn’t change the nation, I began to focus on my town. I couldn’t change the town and as an older man, I tried to change my family. Now, as an old man, I realize the only thing I can change is myself, and suddenly I realize that if long ago I had changed myself, I could have made an impact on my family. My family and I could have made an impact on our town. Their impact could have changed the nation and I could indeed have changed the world.”

So too it is with atonement. Today is the yartzeit for George Floyd. Systemic racism has been built into the very foundations of our country (I am a US citizen). We want change. But where does it start?

While we call out for reform and push our country towards more racial equity, we need to also look within and start with ourselves. We need to make atonement for ourselves before we can make it for our family. We need to make it for our family before we can make it for our city. We need to atone for our city before we can change our state. And we need to atone for our state before we can atone for our country.

What a gem we have today! After a long interlude about who can and can’t slaughter, sprinkle, and clean, we read:

The High Priest comes and stands next to his bull a second time and confesses: Please God, I have sinned…I and my family and the children of Aaron, your sacred people. The Gemara asks: What is different about the first confession that he made over the bull, in which he did not say: And the children of Aaron, your sacred people, and what is different about the second confession in which he said: And the children of Aaron, your sacred people?

The school of Rabbi Yishmael taught: That is the method to which the attribute of justice lends itself: Better that an innocent person should come and gain atonement on behalf of the guilty, and a guilty person should not come and gain atonement on behalf of another guilty person.

What’s happening? The first time the High Priest confesses, it’s on his own behalf. No one is perfect, even the “perfect” priest who has been isolated and trained for this moment. He needs to repent. Then, and only then, can he offer atonement for the remainder of the priesthood. So, we learn that he waits until the second confession to seek atonement for the priesthood.

We as clergy still do this at the opening of the High Holy Days. We ask God to forgive us and our households so that we will be able to pray on behalf of the congregation. We pray that no one else is punished because we (the clergy) are flawed vessels.

It’s a gem in that it reminds us of our imperfection, no matter how elevated we might feel for that day, that moment. It’s a gem because God allows us imperfect vessels to pray on behalf of others, to talk to God who is (to put it bluntly) so out of our league. IT’s a gem because we are forgiven, if we just speak from the heart and ask.

Today’s daf has two gems I want to touch on. One is a great line about how, it’s not about how much you are able to give (if you’re giving your all), but your intentions, your effort! Here is the verse: God equally values both the one who gives much and the one who gives little as long as his intention is to Heaven.

Love this. It reminds me of my parents who never got mad at me about my grades, they would just ask: Is that your best effort? Your best is good enough – whatever that is.

The second gem continues the conversation from yesterday’s daf about three different crimson threads (the scape goat, the red heifer, and the metzorah) and debates which one of these needs weight. Today’s daf throws in a very interesting comment:

Rabbi Yirmeya of Difti said to Ravina: It is not with regard to the strip of the red heifer that they disagree; rather, it is with regard to the strip of the scapegoat that they disagree. And on that very day that they disputed this issue, Ravya bar Kisi died, and they made a mnemonic out of it, associating the halakha with his name: The death of Ravya bar Kisi atones like the scapegoat, since the death of the righteous person atones for his generation.

Rashi adds to this, “Why was the death of Aaron recorded in the Torah next to the description of the priestly garments? To tell you just as priestly garments are atoning (for the sins of the community,) so too the death of the righteous is atonement.

I don’t know how I feel theologically about the death of a righteous person atoning for our sins – but I do notice that, when a righteous person dies, and we hear their eulogy, their memory can call us and motivate us to be better people, to live life more fully, to do better, help more, be more giving and seek more justice. So, I would say that, when we let the lives of the righteous inspire us – when we see they have died and so it’s up to continue their work – then our sins are atoned for through their passing.

It’s one thing to disagree behind closed doors, it’s quite another to air out dirty laundry in public. When we rebuke we do it privately. When we debate we should also create safe spaces where our words will not be taken out of context and used against us outside of that space.

But, what happens when Jews disagree and we make it public for everyone to hear? Today’s daf provides a warning:

A baraita teaches: Rabbi Akiva’s students asked him: If the lot for God was drawn by the High Priest’s left hand, what is the halakha with regard to whether he may transfer the lot to his right hand?

He said to them: Do not give the heretics an opportunity to dominate.

Basically, Akiva is saying, we could debate this, but it will only give people who think the rabbinate is a bunch of hypocrites and that halakhah is subject to change fodder for their arguments.

This line could not be more pressing right now when Israel is losing a social media war in the united states over it’s reaction to violence from Hamas (not how this is being characterized at all).

Do I have criticism of Israeli leadership – you bet ya. Is now the time to air out our laundry? Not in my opinion.

We are seeing Akiva’s warning, “Do not give the heretics an opportunity to dominate” come to fruition.

What do you have to do to earn a moniker like HaTzaddik – the righteous? While lots of rappers, artists and social mediates might give themselves titles and nicknames that pump up their perceived status, there seems to have been something really special about Shimon HaTzaddik. Today we read:

The Sages taught: During the year in which Shimon HaTzaddik died, he said to them, his associates: In this year, he will die, euphemistically referring to himself. They said to him: How do you know? He said to them: In previous years, on every Yom Kippur, upon entering the Holy of Holies, I was met, in a prophetic vision, by an old man who was dressed in white, and his head was wrapped up in white, and he would enter the Holy of Holies with me, and he would leave with me. But today, I was met by an old man who was dressed in black, and his head was wrapped up in black, and he entered the Holy of Holies with me, but he did not leave with me. He understood this to be a sign that his death was impending. Indeed, after the festival of Sukkot, he was ill for seven days and died.

Wow! There was something so special about Shimon HaTzaddik that he was accompanied by a mysterious presence when he was (supposed to be) all alone in the Holy of Holies. And, this presence let him know when his time had come.

Rabbi Dovid Bashevkin shares in the name of Rabbi Soloveichik that the old man in white was a manifestation of the Jewish people, or rather, his opinion of them. For years the old man wore white, symbolic of hope, best days ahead, optimism; and that when the old man wore black, it was that Shimon HaTzaddik had become jaded, less hopeful, more cynical about the Jewish people.

What I love about this, is that it teaches that, when you lose hope, when you no longer see the good in the people you are serving, it’s time to retire (we don’t have to go so far as to die).

And what was life like after they lost this righteous man? (And maybe, after they lost hope and confidence in themselves?)

The Sages taught: During the tenure of Shimon HaTzaddik, the lot for God always arose in the High Priest’s right hand; after his death, it occurred only occasionally; but during the forty years prior to the destruction of the Second Temple, the lot for God did not arise in the High Priest’s right hand at all. So too, the strip of crimson wool that was tied to the head of the goat that was sent to Azazel did not turn white, and the westernmost lamp of the candelabrum did not burn continually.

And the doors of the Sanctuary opened by themselves as a sign that they would soon be opened by enemies.

Now, that is a man worthy of the moniker HaTzaddik, the righteous. And, he wrote some enduring lyrics as well:

Pirkei Avot 1:2 Shimon the Righteous was from the remnants of the Great Assembly. He would say, “On three things the world stands: on the Torah, on the service and on acts of lovingkindness.”

MISHNA: The mishna lists those who took action in the Temple and were mentioned unfavorably. The craftsmen of the House of Garmu did not want to teach the secret of the preparation of the shewbread and sought to keep the secret within their family. The craftsmen of the House of Avtinas did not want to teach the secret of the preparation of the incense.

Also, Hugras ben Levi knew a chapter in the art of music, as will be explained, and he did not want to teach it to others. And the scribe ben Kamtzar did not want to teach a special act of writing. He was expert at writing all four letters of a four-letter name simultaneously.

The Gemara goes on to describe how in the case of the bakers and the incense preparers, both were once replaced by craftsmen from Alexandria, but their expertise couldn’t be matched. So the Temple sent for them to come back, but then they double their wages! However, they then explain that they don’t want to teach their craft because if others knew, then when the Temple fell, they would use these skills for their own benefit or idol worship. But one of the Mishnah’s examples is not like the others:

The Sages taught: Ben Kamtzar did not want to teach others a special technique of writing. What was that technique? They said about him that he would take four quills between his fingers, and if there was a word consisting of four letters that he wanted to write, he could write it simultaneously. (Like the name of God!!) They said to him: What did you see that led you not to teach that technique? All the others with unique skills came up with a response to questions about the matter of their conduct, claiming that they sought to prevent their technique from being used in idol worship. However, ben Kamtzar did not come up with a response to questions about the matter of his conduct, and it was clear that his only motivation in preventing his skill from being disseminated was his own personal honor. With regard to the first people listed, it is stated: “The memory of the righteous shall be for a blessing” (Proverbs 10:7); and about ben Kamtzar and his counterparts it is stated: “But the name of the wicked shall rot” (Proverbs 10:7).

What is the message? We should mentor, teach, share our gifts with others (unless we explicitly know they will use that skill to do terrible things). God gives gifts to each of us, but that does not mean they should stay only with us – we should spread our light, our skills, our gifts to others.

Today’s gem is an engineering priest. We have read previously in Yoma about the many ablutions the priests must undergo to offer a sacrifice, and about the many priests needed to properly perform a sacrifice. We also have read about the multiple times that sacrifices are made. So, we have to wonder about how it is possible for all these priests to purify their hands and feet in enough time to offer up all of these sacrifices. The link for the ancient “sink” would have been out of control! Enter The High Priest ben Katin:

The mishna continues: The High Priest ben Katin made twelve spigots for the basin. It was taught: Ben Katin did this so that twelve of his fellow priests, who are occupied with sacrificing the daily offering as explained above, could sanctify their hands and their feet simultaneously. It was taught: In the morning, when the basin is full, one sanctifies his hands and his feet from the spigots fixed at the top of the basin because the water level is high. And in the afternoon, when the water level is low, he sanctifies his hands and his feet from the spigots fixed at the bottom.

Yes! We have a technological innovation brought to you by a High Priest (good lineage and good brains – I bet he married well). We also get a bit of a physics lesson in that when the basin is full of water, the top spigots are to be used and they will give sufficient water, but in the afternoon when the water level is lower you need to use the bottom spigot. But this priest’s genius doesn’t end there:

The mishna continues with regard to ben Katin: He also made a machine for sinking the basin. The Gemara asks: What is this machine? Abaye said: It is a wheel with which he lowered the basin into the pit.

Why do I love this? Besides the fact that I was an engineering student before going into rabbinical school? I love the innovation – a priest seeing that things could be done differently, more efficiently, better – and creating a new tool and therefore new way of doing things. I love the process of asking what the goal is and questioning if our current methods are the best way of reaching that goal. I love that the High Priest did this, it reminds us that we should not limit, in our heads, what people are capable of because of their titles. And I love that it’s recorded right along side the wealthy donors who gave golden handles and chandeliers to the sanctuary. This reminds us that there are many ways to give, not just monetarily (although that is necessary and appreciated as well).

Apologizing for unintentional pain.

I know we have discussed before that a sin that we commit unwittingly is less offensive than one we do knowingly. On today’s daf, there is a debate about if, when the priest confesses his (then our) sins on Yom Kippur, if he starts by mentioning the sins we committed with eyes wide open, or those we committed not even realizing what we were doing.

I always struggle to remind my boys that, it does not matter if you didn’t know that something was wrong, or if it would hurt someone, it does not mean that what you did was okay or that you don’t need to apologize. Knowing or unknowing, we still need to repent.

But we all know there is a difference.

When someone uses a hurtful term because they have hate in their heart, it is very different then if they use it not knowing its meaning or origins.

When someone throws their purse over their shoulder and accidently whacks you, it’s different than them turning and beating you with their bag.

But all pain is real pain. All pain deserves to be recognized and dealt with.

But maybe we can give one another the benefit of the doubt when something hurtful is said or done – and assume the pain being inflicted is unintentional.

Moses said before the Holy One, Blessed be He: Master of the Universe, when the Jewish people sin before you and repent, render their intentional sins like unwitting ones, forgive wrongdoing and rebellion as if they were sin.

Today’s gem is one of my favorite stories about Hillel. Hillel, a brilliant scholar, was very poor. He had every excuse not to study Torah, but he did not let poverty stand in his way:

They said about Hillel the Elder that each and every day he would work and earn a half-dinar, half of which he would give to the guard of the study hall and half of which he spent for his sustenance and the sustenance of the members of his family. One time he did not find employment to earn a wage, and the guard of the study hall did not allow him to enter. He ascended to the roof, suspended himself, and sat at the edge of the skylight in order to hear the words of the Torah of the living God from the mouths of Shemaya and Avtalyon, the spiritual leaders of that generation.

The Sages continued and said: That day was Shabbat eve and it was the winter season of Tevet, and snow fell upon him from the sky. When it was dawn, Shemaya said to Avtalyon: Avtalyon, my brother, every day at this hour the study hall is already bright from the sunlight streaming through the skylight, and today it is dark; is it perhaps a cloudy day? They focused their eyes and saw the image of a man in the skylight. They ascended and found him covered with snow three cubits high. They extricated him from the snow, and they washed him and smeared oil on him, and they sat him opposite the bonfire to warm him. They said: This man is worthy for us to desecrate Shabbat for him.

Love this story. What it teaches about Hillel, perseverance, pursuing knowledge, not letting your economics stand in the way of your calling – is profound. It also shows a weakness in the education system – what does it say about these great study halls and their ability to live the values they are teaching if Hillel has to watch through a skylight on a winter day in order to learn?

I look at the cost of University education and wonder why it is that we, as a society, still perpetuate this model (that the Gemara realizes is a problem and changes with the change of rosh yeshiva) where only the wealthy can come and learn . . . while those who are not wealthy who find a way risk their lives (for Hillel with frost bite, for our students today, with crushing debt).

If poverty cannot be an excuse not to be educated, then we all have an obligation to work towards a society where education is open to all.

Here is to hot baths!

If the High Priest was old or delicate, they would heat hot water for him on Yom Kippur eve and place it into the cold water of the ritual bath in order to temper its chill. It was taught in a baraita that Rabbi Yehuda said: They would heat blocks of iron on Yom Kippur eve and cast them into the cold water of the ritual bath to temper its chill.

Now, this is how to forge iron, and so that becomes a bit of a debate as you are not supposed to forge iron on Yom Kippur (don’t worry, the end ruling is that it’s not heated to the point of moulding and that the rule is rabbinic anyway so the High Priest gets a warm bath) but the final rule is that the High Priest can have a nice warm bath.

There is something magical about a warm bath. You muscles relax. You soak. Something that usually happens hurriedly – bathing – suddenly takes on a therapeutic slant. You not only wash off the dirt you carry on your skin, but some of the worry on your shoulders and the pain in your heart.

And maybe that is also something the High Priest needs.