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

Today’s daf repeats a line from a previous daf:

He raised an objection to him based upon the following mishna: A homeowner who was a partner of his neighbors, with this one in wine and with that one in wine, they do not need to establish an eiruv.

When I read it the first time it reminded me of a story but I chose a different piece to focus on. Now, seeing it again, I have to share a story.

But first, you should understand that this text is imagining (according to Soncino’s translation) that the neighbors have a jointly owned barrel that the two neighbors fill with their individual contributions of wine to create the eiruv. This reminded me of a story I love. There are some different tellings of it, but they all have the same punch line:

There was once a beloved Rabbi. He didn’t have much money but everyone in the town loved him. And so it was that one day his son found a bride and they were going to get married. Everyone was so excited! The rabbi didn’t have money to make a wedding for his son, but everyone in the town said that they would come and bring a dish. In honor of the wedding, the mayor of the town built a large barrel and she asked everyone to contribute a bottle of wine to the barrel so that they would have enough wine for everyone to celebrate and enjoy themselves.

And so it was. People marched up to the barrel, one at a time, and poured in their individual bottles of wine. Everyone would smile and say hello to the Rabbi and say hello to the mayor and make their contribution.

Then the day of the wedding came. It was a beautiful wedding and the rabbi presided and was so proud to see his son marry.

When the mayor went to proudly fill the wine glass to make a sanctification of the marriage under the Chuppah, she opened the spigot on the barrel and what poured out was just . . . water.

It turned out that every person in the town had had the same thought: A little bit of water in the wine will hardly make any difference. So many bottles of wine will surely be enough! And they each filled their bottles with water instead of wine and poured it into the barrel.

So, a day that was supposed to be happy and joyful turned out to be one of disappointment as everyone realized what had happened. They had all relied on others to do what they were supposed to do, but no one stepped up themselves.

A good lesson for us today. We can only create the kind of world we want to live in if we each step up and do our part.

A fascinating development on today’s page all within one paragraph:

Rav Yehuda said that Rav said: The halakha is in accordance with the opinion of Rabbi Meir. And Rav Huna said: the custom is in accordance with the opinion of Rabbi Meir. And Rabbi Yoḥanan said: the people were accustomed to act in accordance with the opinion of Rabbi Meir.

Wowzers! We go from Rabbi Meir being the arbiter of a halakhah (therefore the rule of law), to it not being a law, but being a custom (so, if someone asks you should tell them this is how to do it, but it’s not a law), to it just being a habit (and therefore you can follow or not, either is appropriate).

I loved this gem because a law so quickly became a custom then a habit; ultimately going from no-choice to choice.

I also love that it gives us a framework to look at the world. Why do we do this? Because it’s a law? Because it’s a custom? Or because it’s a habit?

So much of the little things in life that feel immutable are really just habit and can be changed. Is it a law that I have to be the one to walk through my house every night and pick up everyone’s discarded clothes (always in the bedrooms and bathrooms, but also known to be found in front of the door and even in the kitchen)? Is it a custom, something cultural? No, it’s just a habit. And with a little work, we can change habits (like making my kids go through the house before they go to bed . . . my husband too).

What are things you want to change? Are they habits that you can adjust with a little work? Are they part of the culture? How might you start to shift the culture? Or are they laws?

We have a lot of work to do to change things, but asking ourselves what category we are working in helps us to chart a path for change.

One gem from today’s page involves the importance of modeling behavior for the next generation. A statement wherein it is said that residents of an alley can share common space on Shabbat if 1) and eiruv was established, or if 2) an merging of alleyways was done – brings to light the importance of role modeling by asking “Why would there be a situation where someone both merged alleyways and established and eirvu? Isn’t this redundant?

Why does one establish an eiruv between courtyards and also merge the courtyards that open into an alleyway? It is so as not to cause the halakhic category of eiruv to be forgotten by the children, as if a merging of alleyways alone were used, the children would later say: Our fathers never established an eiruv. Therefore, an eiruv is established for educational purposes; this is the statement of Rabbi Meir. And the Rabbis say: One may either establish an eiruv or merge alleyways.

So, we see from this that we may either establish an eirvu OR merge alleyways – however, once you merge alleyways – that will no longer be visible to observers. Often much that we do in life, we do for a reason, and then that reason is lost to the next generation. This reminds us to make our thought processes and choices visible to our children, so they learn to think, not just act.

For example. I remember when I learned in rabbinical school that we are supposed to salt the challah on Friday night – because we used to salt the sacrifices on the alter and the dinner table has replaced the alter.

I learned this and came home to my parents, both of whom were raised Orthodox, my father being raised by an Orthodox rabbi, and asked them why we never salted our challah. My dad explained that he saw his father do it every week – but he never knew why his dad did it. So, shen he was told he had high sodium levels, cutting salt from Friday night did not seem to be a problem.

He didn’t know why so he didn’t know it was religious.

So, too, we see in this passage that sometimes we need to make the work visible so that we can teach the next generation. On the daf, establishing the eiruv when there is already the merging of alleyways (and therefore the eiruv would be redundant) helps us to teach others how to make an eiruv. Had they not done this, their children might not know not to carry in other situations, or how to create an eiruv. I wonder how many other areas there are in life where we should do things the hard way to show our kids, and one another, how things can be done.

In Exodus 34:21 we read, “Remember the Sabbath Day, to keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work; but the seventh day is a Sabbath unto the Lord your G‑d. On it you shall not do any manner of work — you, your son, your daughter, your man-servant, your maid-servant, your cattle, and your stranger that is within your gates. For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea and all that in them is, and rested on the seventh day; wherefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath Day, and hallowed it.”

It’s very clear from this verse that Shabbat is not just for the Jewish people, but for everyone in our houses, animals and people alike, and, most notably for today’s daf, Shabbat is for people we employ.

Today’s daf brings up a question: What if a non-Jewish person does something that would make an area permitted during Shabbat that was not before? What if they “do work” for our benefit out of their own free will? Can we benefit?

To answer this question a principle is is stated:

Rava states to Rav Naḥman from the following baraita: This is the principle: Anything that is permitted for part of Shabbat is permitted for all of Shabbat, and anything that is prohibited for part of Shabbat is prohibited for all of Shabbat, apart from one who renounces his rights in a courtyard, for renunciation can provide an allowance halfway through Shabbat.

The Gemara now explains each element of the baraita: Anything that is permitted for part of Shabbat is permitted for all of Shabbat. For example, if an eiruv was established between two adjacent courtyards that are connected via an opening between them, and that opening was closed up on Shabbat, the eiruv is valid. Alternately, if an eiruv was established between the two courtyards that are connected via a window opening from one to the other, and that window was closed up on Shabbat, the eiruv is valid. As carrying from one courtyard to another was permitted at the beginning of Shabbat, it is permitted throughout Shabbat.

The Gemara comments: The words this is the principle come to include the case of an alleyway whose cross beams or side posts were removed on Shabbat, teaching that one may nonetheless use the alleyway, as it had been permitted at the outset of Shabbat.

Here, we see the causal opening and closing of windows does not change something that was permitted from being permitted. But what about the opposite? What if something was forbidden and then work is done that would have allowed it to be permitted? Can we use it now? Even in the middle of Shabbat?

The Gemara continues its explanation of the baraita: Anything that is prohibited for part of Shabbat is prohibited for all of Shabbat. For example, if there were two houses on two sides of a public domain, which gentiles enclosed with a wall on Shabbat, the enclosed area remains prohibited.

Even though a partition of this kind is considered a proper one with regard to Shabbat domains, it is prohibited to carry objects from either house into the enclosed area.

I find this really interesting in that it places a safe guard around the commandment from Exodus to remember Shabbat, not just for you, but for everyone. Had the rabbis ruled otherwise and permitted this new alleyway to Jewish people, you could see how one might try and make a non-Jew work on Shabbat for personal benefit. (And there are a whole group of people who do this!)

Shabbat, while an institution for Jewish people, is a rule for everyone. Everyone needs a day off, a break. It’s not always easy to take a day off. that’s why it’s commanded. And perhaps it’s hard for employers to give a day off. that’s why it’s commanded. This ruling that prohibits the use of the alleyway, even though the work done by the non-jews would make it permitted, serves as a fence around the law. Our observance of Shabbat should not benefit from others not observing Shabbat. Instead, we should work for a time where everyone has the freedom of one day to reconnect to friends, family, God, and the soul.

In rabbinical school, there was a lot (maybe too much) conversation about what people’s kashrut practice would look like once we were “official” rabbis in new communities. In the Reform movement, it is by no means a safe assumption that even the rabbi keeps kosher. Reform Judaism is about choice through knowledge. So, we learn about the how and why of kashrut (like other laws) and then create a meaningful practice. This means that you can have a room full of Reform Jews and each might have a different kashrut practice. (Some will eat anything, some will eat chicken parm but not veal parm, some will only eat organic and local – it’s a huge spectrum.)

I share this because today’s daf really made me second guess my stance on the issue. Originally, I had just wanted everyone to feel welcome at my table. I figured the best way to do this was to have a kosher house so anyone could come and eat with me, but not keep kosher out of the house, so I could eat with anyone else. Many of my classmates felt differently, that they should be a model and therefore should eat kosher out of the house, but when they were home, they could eat whatever they so desire – no one would see. Today, personally, local, free trade, organic – those tend to capture better, in my mind, what God would want me to consume. Now that I am pescitarian (and vegetarian 5 days a week) I am more outwardly keeping kosher.

People do look at your plate when you’re a rabbi. They also look in your grocery cart. What would you think if you saw a visibly Orthodox man walking into a McDonalds and ordering a Big Mac? You would likely either think the Bog Mac must be kosher, or that this guy is a fraud.

That takes us to today’s daf, and my gem. Today’s daf spends a lot of time differentiating between an apostate who desecrates Shabbat in private; and an apostate who desecrates Shabbat in public [befarhesya].

As we see by this passage and the daf’s expounding upon it, in the rabbinic mind, it is much more of a violation to break a Torah law in public than in private. Should you break the law in public, others may follow your lead (after all, haven’t we seen over and over again how the rabbis base their rulings upon what they have seen their rabbis and mentors do?) as they might think that is proper behavior. They remind us, that we are always modeling for others and we should be careful with our actions. While violating a law in private is still a prohibition, and a problem, it does not cut you off or separate you from the rest of the people. You are not doing the “right” thing, but you are also not modeling to others wrong behavior. (You may very well be a hypocrite, but that’s apparently better than being “brazen faced.”)

So, I suppose my colleagues were right in advocating for keeping kosher in public and then having their “treats” in private. Why? Is this not hypocritical? Well, at the end of the day (or daf), you’re still an apostate if you sin in private or in public. But maybe the lesson is that our diviances are better kept behind closed doors. Doing so at least shows that you know it’s wrong. Our culture today often celebrates making private diviances public – having no shame. It allows people to be mean. It allows society’s morals to errode. This daf is a reminder that none of us are perfect, we all break the rules now and then, but we don’t need to brag about it or let that erode our sense of right and wrong.

The conversation continues today! What do we do when it’s Shabbat and we need something for a positive Torah commandment but we have not set up an eiruv that will allow us to transfer what is necessary?

Rabba bar Rav Ḥanan said to Abaye: In an alleyway that contains two such great people as the Sages Rabba and Abaye, is it possible that there could be neither an eiruv nor a merging of alleyways?

I loved this question! How could this happen when there are such illustrious scholars present? I wonder this constantly – how could this have happened? How did this fall through the cracks when we all know better?

Oh, and if I loved the question, the answer did not disappoint. Just as the question resonated, the answers did as well. How many of us have said the same thing? Thik the same as the following rabbis:

Abaye said to him: What should we do? As for the Master, Rabba, it is not his manner to go and collect for the eiruv from all the residents of the alleyway. It’s not his job! He’s a big shot illustrious rabbi. He should be busy with big ideas, not these menial tasks that anyone could do.

As for myself, I am busy with my studies and do not have time to take care of this issue. Have you seen my calendar? I don’t have time for this! I, too, should be busy with big ideas, not these menial tasks that anyone could do.

And they, the other residents of the alleyway, do not attend to such matters. Unfortunately, the others don’t even see the problem!

I feel like every office would do well to study this text and ask: What needs to happen? Who can identify what needs to happen? Who has the capacity, skill, and follow through to do the necessary task?

Right now, with Covid and it’s subsequent shuffling of roles, both at home, school, and work. Many of us find ourselves either unemployed, underemployed, or, what I would call, overemployed – meaning we are doing jobs that we have never had to do before. It is easy to have moments like the one of today’s daf – with two such wonderfully present parents: how can my child not have turned in any homework this semester? With such phenomenal staff, how did no one plan how we would do Simchat Torah? With two parents working from home, how is it that no one made dinner? (These may not apply to you, or the congregation, per se, but you get the idea.)

In life, we should continually ask what needs to be done and delegate to those who are able and willing to do it.

Hard choices in life really only happen when two values are in conflict. Take immigration. The reason this is so politically loaded is because there are opposing valid values: loving the stranger, being welcoming, in some cases saving a life – and security and safety.

Today’s daf has a conflict of two values: 1) welcoming a child into the covenant (this is so important it can even happen on Shabbat) and 2) sanctifying Shabbat as holy by making it different than other days of the week.

In the following, the purified water needed for the circumcision is spilt. No one prepared for this. What to do? We need more water, but retrieving that water will break the Shabbat boundary rules:

The Gemara now relates that there was once a certain baby whose warm water, which had been prepared for his Shabbat circumcision, spilled. Rabba said to them: Let them bring warm water for him from my house. Abaye said to him: But we did not establish an eiruv in the courtyard, so it is prohibited to carry the water.

Rabba said to him: Let us rely on the merging of alleyways, which may serve in place of a joining of courtyards in pressing circumstances such as these. Abaye said to him: But we did not establish a merging of alleyways either. Rabba replied: If so, let them instruct a gentile to bring the warm water for him, even though it is generally prohibited to instruct a gentile to perform labor for a Jew that involves a desecration of Shabbat.

Abaye said: I wanted to raise an objection against the Master, Rabba, but Rav Yosef would not let me do so, as Rav Yosef said that Rav Kahana said: When we were in Rav Yehuda’s house, he would say to us when we were presented with a halakhic difficulty: With regard to a Torah law, we first raise objections and then we perform an act, i.e., if someone has an objection to a proposed action, we must first clarify the matter and only then may we proceed. However, with regard to rabbinic laws, we first perform an act and then we raise objections.

So, we learn from this, that if the conflicting value comes from a Torah law, then we need to debate and argue before we act. However, is the conflict is a man-made law, a rule of the rabbis, then do the value and argue if we did the right thing later.

This is a good question for us to ask ourselves when values come into conflict: Where does this value come from? Is it from God – Divine law? Or, does it come from the laws of people? Our values come into conflict so often, not just in interactions with others, but within ourselves. How do we decide what to do? I try and remind myself that there is a higher law . . . and sometimes we need to bend in one area to stand straight before the ultimate Judge.

There is not a particular line that I want to highlight form today’s daf. It returns to the question of creating a eiruv in a space shared with non-Jewish (or Jewish but not Eiruv following) people. What I would rather do is pull back from the scene and make a few observations.

This scene is one where the rabbis have to ask why it is there would be a person in their midst who thinks differently, or is of a different faith. Eventually, they ask us to imagine the scenario of this happening by saying – maybe it’s an inn that is owned by a non-Jew.

What a different world we live in.

While outward anti-Semitism is on the rise and a problem that needs to be fought at every expression – we are so integrated into society. Our non-Jewish, and Jewish but not connected, neighbors, in large, know and love us and we, in large part, know and love them. We share space, move in next to one another, share meals, school, holidays, even families!

The scenarios on today’s daf remind us of how far we have come as a people in terms of our own acceptance and understanding – both of the Jew towards the non-Jew and the non-Jew towards the Jew.

That I read this daf and can’t imagine a neighborhood or hotel where there wouldn’t be a person who believed and worshipped differently than me, gives me great heart.

May we all be good neighbors and friends.

Rabbi Ilai say, “A person makes their character known in three ways: how they drink (“koso”), how they spend (“kiso”), and how they express anger (“ka’aso”).” And some say: A person also reveals his real nature in his laughter.

What a gem!! I wanted you, the reader, to see/hear the play in the Hebrew “koso, kiso, ka’aso” and also take a moment to savour the wisdom of this line. We make our character known in how we drink, how we spend, how we express anger – and some say, in how we laugh.

Gorgeous.

How we drink: The daf continues the discussion from yesterday of what should be our limits when we embabe. Today’s daf also mentions that a home where the wine flows for the guests is a good home. I can see from this that the rabbis are trying to capture the image of a truly welcoming home where people can relax and share good food, good wine, and good company. And yet, we also see, on this daf, people who drink too much and are no longer able to function (two dapim ago we saw that some people even get violent, yesterday we saw some pass out, today – they are no longer responsible for their actions). The daf, and in particular, this wonderful line, reminds us to celebrate and embrace good times, but everything in moderation.

How we spend: I had a professor in Rabbinical School who always said, if you want to see what people value, see where they spend their money. Do you give tzedakah? Do you tithe? Do you invest your money with people, companies, products that are ethical? Do you shop local? Do you spend money on travel? On television? Look at your credit card statement – does it reflect your values? How might you redirect your spending so that it does? Where we spend our money and on what is one of our most powerful tools (if not THE most powerful tool) to shape our country and to reflect our values.

How we express anger: This deserves it’s own book, but I will just ask a few questions for our own personal reflections. When we are angry: Do we suppress our feelings? Do we explode? Do we cut off relationships? Or do we look behind the anger, ask ourselves – why am I so hurt – and have a productive conversation where we reinforce relationship? Do we allow our anger to take over? Or do we use our anger to help drive us to make our relationships, and the world, a better, more understanding space?

A person also reveals his real nature in his laughter. Usually, when this section of Talmud is quoted, this line is omitted – but I love it. Do we laugh at the expense of others or with them? Are we free and generous with our laughter? Our joy? I know laughter is something I could use more of in my life. It bonds us, brings us joy, is healthy and just plain fun.

I hope you have a good laugh today.

Being a grown-up with a more than full time job and busy life where I have to wake up and work every day – plus being a cancer survivor where I felt like I was hung over for a good 6+ months – I don’t drink like I once did. But reading today’s daf reminded me of those early days of drinking and figuring out my limits. What amount will help me loosen up and be brave, be even more me? And how that line is hard to find – and how once you top over it, there is no graceful way back.

Rav Yehuda said that Shmuel said: If one drank a quarter-log of wine, he may not issue a halakhic ruling, as the wine is liable to confuse his thinking. With regard to this second statement, Rav Naḥman said: This halakha is not excellent, as concerning myself, as long as I have not drunk a quarter-log of wine, my mind is not clear. It is only after drinking wine that I can issue appropriate rulings.

Now, I don’t know what Rav Nahman is talking about. The only part of my mind that improved when I had a buzz is my foreign language abilities (and that was probably only from my perspective). But I can picture these guys sitting around and arguing with one another. Much like my Indiana brothers and sisters would talk about someone being a light-weight if they got a buzz after one drink. (Really, they were probably jealous. Who doesn’t want to be a light-weight? It’s cheaper and healthier.)

. . . .Rabba bar Rav Huna said: One who has drunk wine must not pray, but if he nonetheless prayed, his prayer is a prayer, i.e., he has fulfilled his obligation. On the other hand, one who is intoxicated with wine must not pray, and if he prayed, his prayer is an abomination.

Don’t worry, the Gemara asks what you are likely asking: What are the circumstances in which a person is considered one who has drunk wine; and what are the circumstances in which a person is considered one who is intoxicated? The Gemara answers that one can learn this from the following event: As Rabbi Abba bar Shumni and Rav Menashya bar Yirmeya from Gifti were taking leave of each other at the ford of the Yofti River . . . One of them opened the discussion and said: What are the circumstances where a person is considered one who has drunk wine, and what are the circumstances where a person is considered one who is intoxicated with wine? One who has drunk wine refers to anyone who has drunk wine but whose mind remains clear enough that he is able to talk in the presence of a king. One who is intoxicated refers to anyone who is so disoriented by the wine he has drunk that he is not able to talk in the presence of a king.

Wine and alcohol are a fun topic. They are also a serious topic and a serious problem in many families. I can’t help but look at this text and love and hate it. I know functional alcoholics. They could likely drink and still speak in front of a king . . .

But I do think this asks us good questions about what is within bounds and what its beyond? When is it just a little fun and when is it a problem?

When you can no longer fulfill your responsibilities, you’re drinking has become a problem.