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

Today the daf discusses what to do if a mouse took a piece of bread (forbidden in the house on Passover) and went into a house, but you are not sure which house. What to do? What if you saw the mouse, and then saw it leave with the bread? Is the house clean? What if it’s not the same mouse? What if a marten takes it?

None of this is my gem. My gem comes in one of the Talmud’s arguments as the rabbis pull up different cases to apply the laws from these other cases to that of the mouse. Every been on a hike and wanted to wander from the path? This one is for you:

The Gemara addresses another case: If one saw a mouse take leaven and there is uncertainty whether the mouse entered a house that was already searched and uncertainty whether the mouse did not enter that house, that is akin to the halakha of ritual impurity in a valley, and is subject to the dispute between Rabbi Eliezer and the Rabbis.

As we learned in a mishna with regard to one who enters a valley during the rainy season, when seeds are sprouting, people do not have permission to wander in the field of another, as they might harm the plants. For the purpose of this halakha a valley in the rainy season is considered a private domain, and there is a general principle that in the case of uncertainty concerning whether or not one contracted ritual impurity in a private domain he is ritually impure.

How beautiful. When we step on the grass we are stepping on living things. In the spring (rainy for those north of the equator), you may even be stepping on seedlings.

I love this text. I love us thinking about our environmental foot prints. I love that potentially harming the life of flora can make us impure. So much to learn from this.

Wow, what a page. Okay, the gem is more of a mystery to me then something to learn from. It’s just a piece of text that has me wondering. But first, some context.

The daf is discussing if we need to search places we would not normally need to search for leavening, or re-search places we have already searched when there is a chance that an animal, namely a marten (think racoon meets weasel) might have rummaged through our food and dragged chameitz (forbidden leavening) into a place we did not search or may have already searched.

To explain what to do, the Gemara goes to other rulings about martens. It says that in a house of non-Jew, there is a concern that the non-Jewish residents might have buried a stillborn under the floor of the house. As a result of this possibility, the house has a doubtful status and is rendered impure. Now things get weirder. If there are martens in the area, the house is not deemed impure because it is possible that a marten might have found the corpse and eaten it. Now the doubt is double – we doubt a miscarriage was buried there, and even if it was a marten or other animal might have come and dug it up and dragged it off, so it’s pure . . .

Now, all of this is weird. But then we get this scene that I just want to read the book or watch the movie about because scene is so dramatic and yet we get no background:

Rabbi Yehuda said: There was an incident involving the maidservant of a certain violent person in the city of Rimon, who threw a stillborn baby into a pit, and a priest came and glanced at the baby to ascertain whether it is male or whether it is female. And the incident came before the Sages, to rule whether or not the priest contracted ritual impurity when standing over the corpse, and they deemed him ritually pure. The basis for this ruling was due to the fact that as a marten and a polecat [bardelas] are found there, it is likely that the baby was dragged away before the priest arrived at the pit.

What is happening?! Was the maidservant pregnant? Who was the father? Or was it the woman of the house’s? Who is this violent person? Did they cause her to miscarry? Why is that detail included? Why is it that the Sages seem to be only concerned with the ritual status of the priest, and not with what is happening at this house? Was it really so common that an animal would dig up miscarriages and drag them away?

Really disturbing page. Yet, also inspiring for an after-school special made for TV movie as it has drama, intrigue, violence, pain, loss, and real shock value.

Hollywood?

Tell people when you are going on a trip to Israel and some may give you a dollar to give as tzedakah when you land. That’s because there is a Jewish belief that you will not come to any harm i fyou are on your way to do a mitzvah. Where does this idea come from? Today’s daf!

The Gemara questions: Why is there any concern about danger in this case? But didn’t Rabbi Elazar say: Those on the path to perform a mitzva are not susceptible to harm throughout the process of performing the mitzva?

wasn’t it taught in a baraita that one who says: I am contributing this sela to charity so that my son will live, or if he says: I am performing the mitzva so that I will be one destined for the World-to-Come, this person is a full-fledged righteous person as far as that mitzva is concerned? These ulterior motives, e.g., seeking a reward, do not detract from the value of the mitzva.

I love this little gem. While there are no guarantees in life, I can’t think of a better was to ward of the evil eye then by doing a mitzvah. It let’s our fears lead to good in the world.

However, a friend and colleague, Rabbi Darren Levine, once got into a terrible car accident on his way to visit someone in the hospital – on his way to do a mitzvah. (If you google him, he talks about the car accident and how he discovered Mussar as part of his spiritual healing process. check out his “Positive Judaism” podcast.) He is just one prominent example of this rule not holding. The rabbis of the Talmud must have seen others experience hurt while on their way to do a mitzvah as well. So, how do they explain it?

The Gemara raises a difficulty about someone who was hurt while on their way to performing a mitzvah: But didn’t Rabbi Elazar say that those on the path to perform a mitzva are not susceptible to harm throughout the process of performing the mitzva? The Gemara responds: In a place where danger is commonplace it is different, as one should not rely on a miracle, as it is stated with regard to God’s command to Samuel to anoint David as king in place of Saul: “And Samuel said: How will I go, and Saul will hear and kill me; and God said: Take in your hand a calf and say: I have come to offer a sacrifice to God” (I Samuel 16:2). Even when God Himself issued the command, there is concern with regard to commonplace dangers.

Nothing is foolproof and dangers are real. But if you are nervous about travel, perhaps build planning a mitzvah into your next trip.

Short and sweet gem today!

Rav Yehuda said: One who searches for leaven must recite a blessing. The Gemara asks: What blessing does he recite?

The daf continues with a short discussion of what blessing to say, ans when do you say it: immediately before the act, or after? Then we get a good law, a good rule of thumb:

It is as Rav Yehuda said that Shmuel said: With regard to all the mitzvot, one recites a blessing over them prior to [over] their performance.

Okay, all except for immersion in the mikvah – but this is a cool rule! Now, you don’t have to wonder about the order of your blessings. The only tricky one is if you say the blessing or light the candles first. What’s the answer? On Shabbat you light the candles first, then say the blessing. On Shabbat, you can’t light candles once Shabbat has begun. So, what do we do? We light the candles then cover our eyes so we don’t see the light while we say the blessing! Then we say the blessing and open our eyes and the lights are magically lit.

Fun stuff.

The moral is jus tto take the time to say a blessing, it makes whatever comes next more special.

How do you count your tithing? Is it your pre-tax income? After tax? Do your taxes count towards your tithing, afterall, a lot of government funds go towards social services for those in need . . .

They raised a dilemma before Rava: Is the owner of an animal born into a herd from which the royal tax [arnona] is collected obligated in the mitzva to give the firstborn animal to a priest, as the animal still belongs to a Jew? Or perhaps he is not obligated to give the firstborn animal to the priest, as the obligation does not take effect on an animal partly owned by a gentile. The Gemara elaborates on the parameters of raising the dilemma: In any case where the Jew could dismiss the gentile tax collector with money in lieu of the animals, we do not raise the dilemma, as he is clearly obligated in the mitzva of the firstborn. The authorities own no part of the animal; the Jew merely owes them a monetary debt. Therefore, the animal is the property of the Jew exclusively.

Today’s daf has a debate about whether one must tithe from what is owed to the government. It speaks about the question of whether we tithe before or after we pay our taxes. Of course, there are those who have a lenient view and those with a more stringent view.

Some prominent posekim including rabbis Eliezer Waldenburg (Tzitz Eliezer 9:1:5), Nachum Rabinovitch (Siah Nahum #65), and Yitzchak Weiss (Minhat Yitzhak 5:34:9), rule that people with limited incomes may count a percentage of their income taxes toward fulfilling their tithing obligations.

However, others, such as rabbis Moshe Feinstein (Igrot Moshe 1:143) and Yaakov Blau (Sefer Tzedaka Umishpat), ruled that tax money paid to the government should not be viewed as part of one’s income in the first place. Instead, in this view, taxes are essentially debts to the government built into one’s gross income. They therefore ought not to be considered a part of the income on which one calculates one’s obligation to contribute to charity, even if a large portion of the money that the government collects is used for charitable purposes.

What’s the rule? We have to tithe, but based on our net (after-tax) income. We pay taxes to be part of society, but the world surely still needs our tithing. something to think about as we begin the holiday season and spend our our family and friends – don’t spend what you owe to the poor.

It is written, “Seven days leaven shall not be found in your houses” (Exodus 12:19) and it is written, “Yet, on the first day, you shall remove leaven from your houses.” (Exodus 12:15)

Sometimes there are seeming contradictions in the biblical test. . . I say seeming, because the rabbis spend many pages reinterpreting them so that it all points at one conclusion. Reading Exodus 12 , it is hard to know if we rid our house of chameitz on the 14th or 15th. That is the struggle of today’s daf. After a long semantic argument, the conclusion is that level should be removed on the 14th. This begs the question: Why do we need to be ready early?

One of my favorite rabbinic understanding of chameitz is that, just like leavening makes baked items puff up, chameitz can spiritually be understood as our ego, or pride, puffing ourselves up.

Today is Thanksgiving, it is a time to remember all we have to be grateful for. Gratitude reminds us that our bounty is more than what we have achieved, it’s larger than us as individuals.

So too, we recall the Exodus again and again, and relive it at Passover, to remind ourselves that we are here by the grace of God. Everything we have, all of our gifts in life, are just that – gifts.

We get rid of the chameitz, and doing so reminds us of all we have to be grateful for.

We do it early because when you take the time to prepare for something, you make room, both physically and spiritually for something special, something holy.

Thanksgiving tables are going to be quite different this year for many reasons. Facebook reminded me that two years ago I was celebrating Thanksgiving in New York at my Bubby’s apartment with my uncle and his family. Since that Thanksgiving, both my Bubby and my uncle have died. . . or should I say passed away? gone to the next world?

Today’s daf begins with two rabbis learning about death – but through euphemisms, an illustration of the value of using euphemisms to discuss unpleasant things:

The Gemara relates: Rav was the son of Rabbi Ḥiyya’s half brother and the son of Rabbi Ḥiyya’s half sister, as Ayevu, Rav’s father, married his own stepsister called Imma. When Rav ascended there, to Eretz Yisrael, Rabbi Ḥiyya said to Rav: Is your father, Ayevu, alive? He said to him, replying with a question: Is your sister, Imma, alive? He said to him: Indeed, is Imma alive? He said to him: Is Ayevu alive? Upon hearing this, Rabbi Ḥiyya understood that both Ayevu and Imma had passed away, and Rav did not wish to say so explicitly. He learns that his parents have died, presumably some time ago.

Here we get the gem, how to mourn now?

Rabbi Ḥiyya said to his attendant: Remove my shoes and carry my garments after me to the bathhouse. The Gemara comments: Learn from Rabbi Ḥiyya’s instructions three halakhot. Learn from it that wearing shoes is prohibited for a mourner, which is why he instructed his servant to remove his shoes. And learn from it that for distant tidings mourning is practiced only one day. One who receives tidings of the death of a relative more than thirty days after he died, does not mourn for seven days. The halakhot of mourning apply for only a single day. And learn from it that with regard to the halakhot of mourning, the legal status of part of the day is like that of an entire day. The Gemara derives this halakha from the fact that Rabbi Ḥiyya removed his shoes and immediately thereafter went to the bathhouse, an act that is prohibited for a mourner. He was permitted to do so because the restrictions of the mourning period were no longer in effect after briefly going without shoes.

How do we mourn? What do we do when we can’t be by our loved one’s bedside? When we can’t attend the funeral? When our mourning is not able to be what is scripted?

When my Bubby passed we all flew in to New York, my sister even came from India. We had the funeral with her rabbi and her family. We went to the grave, said prayers, helped to bury her. We sat shiva in her apartment. It was sad, but being with family helped.

My uncle died at the end of March. We were all in quarantine. Only my aunt and one of his children were in New Jersey. Not only could the extended family not attend, even two of his children could not attend. Instead, we watched on our screens. But none of us touched earth, helped to bury him . . . and while we gathered for shiva over zoom, we did not get to hug and hold each other.

When I read this page, I see a man who has just learned that he lost both parents. He must be so heartbroken. And yet, he is not allowed to mourn properly. So, he takes off his shoes. Walks on the dirt and rocks. He keeps on going.

Sometimes euphemisms do not make things easier. Sometimes, doing less is not more. Sometimes we need a hug, but have to settle for faces on our computer screen. Sometimes, gathering reminds us of who is no longer at the table.

But we gather. We do what we can. We keep walking. And for that we should be grateful.

I remember a Thanksgiving 25 years ago. My aunt was pregnant, with twins. She was so big . . . and so nauseous. She was excusing herself from the table and I asked, “Are you going to toss cookies?” She did not know what I meant. “Pray to the porcelain god?” My sister and I sent back and forth. “Upchuck?” “”Spew?” “Ralph?” “Do the technicolor yawn?” “Blow chunks?”

That side of my family has a certain kind of humor. They love puns – and apparently, euphemisms as well. Everyone was laughing so hard that multiple people were now needing to go the the bathroom before they did their business in their pants.

All of this is to get us ready for today’s gem where the rabbis teach that it’s best to use euphemisms and not say things in a crude manner.

The Gemara wonders why in the Mishnah we have been discussing, the rabbis didn’t just say evening if that’s what they meant. “Or” was so confusing! Who calls evening light?

The Gemara answers: He employed a euphemism. And this is in accordance with Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi. As Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi said: A person should never express a crude matter. There it is! Use euphemisms. Now we get a slew of examples:

As the formulation of a verse was distorted by the addition of eight letters rather than have it express a crude matter, as it is stated: “From the pure animals and from the animals that are not pure [asher einena tehora]” (Genesis 7:8). Here, instead of saying an animal was treif, impure, it says “Impure.” It’s like instead of saying someone is a jerk saying they are “not very nice.”

Rav Pappa said: A different verse added nine letters, as it is stated: “If there be among you any man who is not ritually pure [asher lo yihye tahor] by reason of that which happened to him by night” (Deuteronomy 23:11). Here we use a euphemism instead of saying he had a nocturnal emission. 🙂 Now they give another example of a euphemism for the same thing: Rav Aḥa bar Ya’akov said: Yet another verse adds sixteen letters, as it is stated: “For he said, something has happened to him, he is not ritually pure; surely he is not ritually pure [bilti tahor hu ki lo tahor]” (I Samuel 20:26).

Likewise, a baraita was taught in the school of Rabbi Yishmael: A person should always converse euphemistically . . . And it says in another verse: “And you choose the language of the crafty” (Job 15:5), meaning that one should be clever when speaking and avoid inappropriate phrases. And it says in another verse: “My words shall utter the uprightness of my heart; and that which my lips know they shall speak sincerely” (Job 33:3).

So, we have learned to use crafty language to describe unsavory things. But when?

Lest you say: This requirement applies only in the Torah, but in rabbinic formulations, no, there is no obligation to use clean language. To counter this argument, the tanna says, come and hear: And it says: “And you choose the language of the crafty,” which indicates that this principle extends beyond the language of the Torah. And lest you say that this requirement applies only to rabbinic language, but when it comes to ordinary speech, no, one need not speak euphemistically, the baraita adds: And it says: “And that which my lips know they shall speak sincerely,” i.e., one must speak euphemistically in every situation.

Who knew that my sister and I were doing a mitzvah when we used those euphemisms all those years ago? I did know, at the time, that it caused a lot of laughter around the table which helped us to have a joyful Thanksgiving. This year will be quite different. Nonetheless, I wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving.

May you enjoy stashing the carbs.

And counting your blessings.

Welcome to a new tractate! Two gems today, one on the mishnah, and one in the gemara.

In the mishnah we read, MISHNA: On the evening [or] of the fourteenth of the month of Nisan, one searches for leavened bread in his home by candlelight. This is the wonderful tradition called “bedikat chameitz” where you run through the house (traditionally with a feather and a candle) to find any chameitz crumbs (chameitz is any product with leavening). I set this up for my kids by hiding individually wrapped goodies around the house (sugary cereal and donut holes mainly) and sending them on a quest to find the goodies and eat them before Passover starts. This tradition is a gem in and of itself.

The gem in the Gemara comes within the discussion of the proper understanding of the Hebrew word “or” often translated as light. There is a debate about if this light means day time, or evening. And it lasts onto at least the next page. Within the discussion we get this verse, brought because it uses the word “or”:

The Gemara raises an objection: “A murderer rises with the or to kill the poor and needy; and in the night he is as a thief” (Job 24:14).

From the fact that the end of the verse states: “And in the night he is as a thief,” apparently the word or at the beginning of the verse is a reference to day, as the verse contrasts between night and or. The Gemara rejects this contention. There, this is what the verse is saying: If the matter is as clear to you as light, that the thief has come into the house prepared to take a life, he is a murderer; and the owner of the house may save himself by taking the life of the intruder. In that case, one may protect himself from a thief who breaks into his house, even by killing the intruder if necessary. And if the matter is as unclear to you as the night, he should be nothing more than a thief in your eyes and not a murderer; and therefore one may not save himself by taking the life of the thief. This verse is not referring to actual day and night; rather, it uses these terms as metaphors for certainty and uncertainty.

Why is this a gem? Well, there is a law in Judaism where you are allowed to kill someone who is pursuing you to kill you. That person falls into the category of “rodeph” a pursuer. I live in Florida where we have Stand Your Ground laws. These laws, on paper, were meant to be similar to this Gemara – that if someone breaks into your house with the intention of killing you – you can kill them and not worry about being tried for murder.

Unfortunately, what our law is missing is the second part of this Gemara – that if you are unsure that the person intends to kill you – you are not allowed to kill them. Meaning, if they just want to rob you, you are not allowed to take their life. The poseks expand this to say that, if you can injure but not kill and protect yourself, then injure, but don’t kill.

I am haunted by Stand Your Ground. When I first moved to Florida, there was a case where 4 kids were playing loud music from their car at a gas station. Michael Dunn, found them intimidating and shot at the car, murdering Jordan Davis who was just 17. He used the Stand Your Ground law as his defense. I couldn’t believe it. I thought of how I would blast music with my friends in high school as well. Would my children get shot one day by someone for blasting music? What kind of a state did I move to? Luckily, Dunn was convicted. But it took two trials!

That was hardly the last of it. We all remember how Trayvon Martin’s murderer chased him down in his own neighborhood and shot and killed this little boy, and walked away free because of Stand Your Ground.

Michael Drejka had argued he acted in self-defense, and initially invoked the controversial “stand your ground” law when he murdered Markeis McGlockton over a parking space.  

And two days ago, our governor, DeSantis, said he would expand the Stand Your Ground law to allow people to shoot looters.

1500 year old document is certainly calling out this horrific backwards law.

During Covid, we have all been spending more time at home. This has lead to more cooking, redecorating, reorganizing, in some cases moving, and cleaning for most Americans. At first, that did not happen for me. I found myself busier than ever, with less time to clean and organize. Then, I looked around and realized that my house could not continue to house 3-4 members working from home, and I would lose my mental balance, without some serious cleaning and reorganizing.

I started to watch “Tidying Up” with Mori Kondo on Netflix on my day off, and then, trying to tackle just one thing (which is not what she suggests, but it’s worked for me).

There is nothing more peaceful and meditative than a clean tidy space (and in my house, nothing more rare). It makes me feel safe . . . it helps me understand that connection between God and cleanliness. Back in Shabbat 50 we had it for ourselves, “It was taught in a baraita: A person must wash his face, his hands, and his feet every day for the sake of his Maker, as it is stated: “The Lord has made everything for His own purpose” (Proverbs 16:4).” Today, we have the lesson of the holiness of cleanliness for the Holy Temple in Jerusalem.

Commenting on the verse: “And the priests went into the inner part of the House of God, to cleanse it, and they brought out all the impurity that they found in the Temple of God into the courtyard of the House of God. And the Levites took it, to carry it out to the brook of Kidron” (II Chronicles 29:16). Our Talmudic Sages debate who cleans what in the Temple?

To understand this, you must first understand that there are three groups of people, the Cohenim (priests, i.e. descendants of Aaron), Levites (descendants of Levi, excluding Cohenim), and Israelites (everybody else). The Temple has an outer courtyard available to everyone, but as you move into the Temple, there are places that only Levites and Cohenim are allowed, then in the innermost sanctum, places only a Cohen is allowed (and then a place only the Cohen Gadol is allowed).

So, who can clean the Temple? And where?

One Sage, Rabbi Shimon Ben Nannas, maintains: As there was a change from the priests who removed the ritual impurity from the inner part of the Temple to the Levites, who took over in the courtyard, this indicates that there is no obligation to remove impurity in the courtyard, and consequently the priests are not required to do so. And one Sage, Rabbi Akiva, maintains: Up to where it is impossible for the task to be performed by the Levites, as it is prohibited for Levites to enter the Sanctuary, the priests took it out. However, now in the courtyard, where it is possible for the ritual impurity to be removed by the Levites, the priests no longer render themselves ritually impure. That is to say, the Levites removed it from any place where they were permitted to enter. The Sages taught in a baraita: It is permitted for everyone to enter the Sanctuary to build, to repair, or to remove impurity from inside. However, wherever possible, the mitzva is for these tasks to be performed by priests. If no priests are available, Levites enter; if no Levites are available, Israelites enter. In both cases, if they are ritually pure, yes, they may enter, but if they are impure, no, they may not enter the holy place.

I think about this in terms of cleaning. You can hire someone else to clean your house, but there are certain inner sanctums that only you can tackle. Only you can decide whether you will keep a shirt, donate it, or toss it (or upcycle it). Your jewelry drawer? Probably too valuable to let anyone else peek inside, let alone organize. As Mori Kondo would say, only you know what “sparks joy.”

When Mori Kondo came to help these families clean, she didn’t clean a single thing herself, she only helped them to make time for cleaning and gave the tools necessary to clean. When they were done, the participants talked about feeling more whole, feeling more peaceful, having more joy. Couples fell back in love with one another. Parents and children enjoyed each other’s company more.

When the Temple was destroyed, it was replaced by the home, and the alter by the dinner table (B. Hagigah 27a). How do we make our homes holy spaces? How do we make them places where we feel love, joy, peace, that we are part of something bigger than ourselves?

Cleaning is one piece.

Well, we have finished Eruvin!! Mazal tov! Tomorrow we start Pesachim, but for tonight – celebrate.