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

There are many gems on today’s daf. I want to “tip my hat” to two women on the daf. Maybe it’s because my 5th grader is learning about idioms and metaphors, but I fell in love with Yehuda HaNasi’s maidservant who had an interesting way she turned a phrase:

The maidservant in the house of Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, when she would speak enigmatically, she would say as follows: The ladle is knocking against the jug, i.e., the wine jug is almost empty. Let the eagles fly to their nests, i.e., let the students return home, as there is nothing left for them to drink. And when Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi wanted them to sit, she would say to them: Let us remove the stopper from another jug, and let the ladle float in the jug like a ship sailing in the sea.

I love how clever she is. And I love colloquialisms and idioms – I find them hilarious. Being from Ft. Wayne I heard a few of these growing up. One of my favorites was “he’s wearing his sweater to the pool” meaning a man with a hairy chest is going shirtless to the pool.

While the nameless maidservant is clever with a turn of phrase – Berurya is biting and wickedly smart with her comments:

Rabbi Yosei HaGelili was walking along the way, and met Berurya. He said to her: On which path shall we walk in order to get to Lod? She said to him: Foolish Galilean, didn’t the Sages say: Do not talk much with women? You should have said your question more succinctly: Which way to Lod?

Love this woman as well. She knows her texts and ironically uses a teaching that is dismissive of women to dismiss a man and prove that women have real sagacity (even if they’ve historically been dismissed by the Sages). Berurya is a feminist icon, able to navigate the seat of Talmud at least as well, if not better, than the men that surround her. Her use of wit, irony, and wisdom was able to break down defences and in a tomb (the Talmud) almost exclusively dedicated to the teachings and thoughts of men, she finds her way in a lays the groundwork for women for millennia to find their voices and bear widom . . . even in a man’s world.

Two women, both clever and incredibly memorable. Both able to find their voice in a time when women’s voices were dismissed and even deemed dangerous.

Dangerous indeed.

“You put your left foot in, you put your left foot out. You put your left foot in, and you shake it all about! You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn yourself about. That’s what it’s all about!”

Is that what the Gemara on today’s daf is all about? Today we read that there are some rabbis who believe that if one of your feet goes beyond the Shabbat limit – then you are not permitted back within the boundary. We read:

GEMARA: Rabbi Ḥanina said: If one of his feet was within the Shabbat limit, and his other foot was beyond the Shabbat limit, he may not reenter, as it is written: “If you turn away your feet [raglekha] due to Shabbat” (Isaiah 58:13). The word raglekha is written in defective form without the letter yod, and can therefore be read as your foot in the singular, indicating that Shabbat can be desecrated by the reentry of even a single foot. The Gemara raises a difficulty: But wasn’t the opposite taught in a baraita? If one of his feet was within the Shabbat limit, and his other foot was beyond the Shabbat limit, he may reenter. The Gemara answers: In accordance with whose opinion is this taught? It is in accordance with the opinion of Aḥerim, as it was taught in a baraita: Aḥerim say: He is attributed to the place where the majority of his body lies, and therefore, it is permitted for him to enter, as he stepped out with only one foot.

So, what is this all about? Not so much the Hokey-Pokey, but about the real value of boundaries.

The word for holy in Hebrew is Kadosh קָּדוֹשׁ. Every word with this root talks about separation, a boundary between the thing being described and everything else. We separate Sabbat from the rest of the week with Kiddush. We separate our spouse from everyone else with Kiddushin. Separation involved creating clear boundaries.

Rav Tzaddok, back in tractate Shabbat, introduced the concept of holiness and space and time. In order to separate something as holy, we need to dedicate both time and space. We need to create real boundaries.

This teaching about Shabbat can teach us about other things we mark as holy. For example, to keep a relationship holy, we need to dedicate both time and space for that relationship. Dedicated time just for that person. Dedicated space that only that person accesses.

What are our physical boundaries that help us to delineate what is holy?

Today’s daf has a lovely scene within it. While discussing if one can establish an eiruv by foot, all agree that the poor can, but there is debate about the wealthy. And, to illustrate, we get this lovely scene of generosity from the Memel and Guryon families:

Rabbi Yehuda said: There was an incident involving the members of the household of the Memel family and members of the household of Guryon family in the village of Aroma, who were distributing dried figs and raisins to the paupers in years of famine, and the paupers of the village of Siḥin and the paupers of the village of Ḥananya would come to the edge of the Shabbat limit at nightfall, which was also within the Shabbat limit of Aroma, and then go home. The following day they would rise early and go to receive their figs and raisins. Apparently, one can establish an eiruv by foot, if he says: My residence is in my present location.

These two families are so generous that the poor, even from the next town over, know that this is where they can go to get a meager sustenance to get them through the day. As we go into this New Year, I find them to be inspiring examples of what it means to be responsible with your wealth – to share it.

We live in a country where we waste 30-40% of the food supply. We (in the USA) throw away $160 billion or 133 billion pounds of food (that was the 2010 level). While, in pre-COVID numbers (2018) 1 in 9 Americans did not know where their next meal would come from. Wasted food is the single largest category of material placed in municipal landfills and represents nourishment that could have helped feed families in need. Additionally, water, energy, and labor used to produce wasted food could have been employed for other purposes. This is destroying our planet!!!

Effectively reducing food waste and getting food where it needs to be would require cooperation among federal, state, tribal and local governments, faith-based institutions, environmental organizations, communities. . . it would require the entire supply chain to make an effort.

May the houses of Memel and Guryon inspire us.

Have you ever noticed that it always seems to take longer to get to a location away from home than it takes to come back? I know it’s not true, but it’s a truth for me (barring horrible traffic). A month ago I drove to Tampa to see my parents and my sisters’ family that was visiting. It felt like it took forever to get there. Coming home was quick though. The difference is psychological. Driving there, I don’t feel like I am there until I hug my parents. Driving home, I feel like I am home once I see a billboard on the highway in Spanish. Once things are familiar, I feel I am already home. It’s just a few more miles to the house itself . . .

That’s kind of the situation discussed on today’s daf. We all know that the farthest you can travel on Shabbat with an established eiruv is 2,000 amot. But the Mishnah (from yesterday’s daf) discusses a traveler, who is on their way home, and they see a familiar tree (or any landmark) that is 2,000 amot away. And the traveler says to himself “Hey! I know that tree! That tree is only 2,000 amot from my house!” The Mishnah allows for the traveler to see the tree and say: I will establish my eiruv at the tree. Now the traveler can walk the 2,000 amot to the tree, and then, another 2,000 amot home! That’s a total of 4,000 amot. (You can see why the rabbis must discuss and sort this out.)

The Gemara on today’s daf begins to try and qualify this statement. On the top of tomorrow’s we get a suggestion, by Rava is that this eiruv is only kosher if he (or another healthy person) could run to the tree before nightfall (and the beginning of Shabbat). If he could run, then he could leisurely walk there since he could have made it. (We will perhaps discuss this more tomorrow.)

I liked this daf because I can relate to this (and perhaps because I miss traveling). When you’re driving home from a trip and you want to rest but you see familiar sights in the distance, you get a little extra energy. You can stay up a little longer. You’re almost home, you can see the goal is getting closer.

When distance runners train, they are taught, at first, to make little goals. To run as far as you can see – “I will run to that stop light” and once you get there you look ahead again – “I will run to that overpass.”

As we work on improving ourselves on this holy day, as we examine our cheshbon nefesh, our soul’s report card, and evaluate on a scale from 1-10 if we have been kind, truthful, generous, brave, orderly, created peace, asked good questions, etc. this text is quite powerful. Don’t expect to go from a 3 to a 10 right away. What does a 4 look like? Can you see it? How do you get from where you are to there?

Once you’re at a 4, what might a 5 look like? What would you need to do to get there? Now that you’ve gone from a 3 to a 4, do you think you can get to a 5? You’ve learned change is possible!

Like on a drive back home, once we see we have have progressed, once we begin to recognize that we are getting closer – it seems that much easier. We are almost there. Indeed, we can do more than we thought possible.

Today’s daf asks us to examine what it means to be part of a community, to live as a member of a community, even if maybe we are a bit anti-social. What if an individual does not want to be part of the eiruv with their neighbors? What if they don’t want to share their bread? What if others want to walk through an alleyway owned by this person?

The rabbis teach us that if one doesn’t want others to use their alleyway – and their use does no harm to his property then: In a case such as this, one compels another to refrain from behavior characteristic of Sodom.

That’s right, they are compared to a member of the evil city of Sodom, a city so evil God wipes them off the planet. What was their sin? Being inhospitable.

What of one who doesn’t want to share?

Rav Yehuda said that Shmuel said: With regard to one who is particular about his eiruv, i.e., that the other people should not eat of the food he contributed, his eiruv is not a valid eiruv. After all, what is its name? Joining [eiruv] is its name, indicating that it must be jointly owned [me’urav] by all the participants in the eiruv. If one person does not allow the other participants to eat of it, it does not belong to all of them and cannot be called an eiruv.

Rabbi Ḥanina said: Even in that case, his eiruv is a valid eiruv, however, that person is called one of the men of Vardina. The men of Vardina were renowned misers, meaning that he is considered to be like them.

So, you don’t want to share? Fine. But don’t be surprised when you get called bad names.

Interesting text to be reading as we prepare for Yom Kippur tonight. It boils down to what we need right now in society, what spiritual work we all need to do: be a mensch; you’re part of a community, act like it- don’t be selfish, don’t cut yourself off, and what’s your is not really only yours.

I have a childhood friend who joined the Haredi community. He always said he had slight OCD and loved all the rules that came with that life-style.

In a winter 2004 article entitled, “OCD: A Jewish Disease?” Avigdor Bonchek writes:

“There is the woman who worries about her halachic readiness for immersion and spends four hours preparing to go to the mikvah. There is the man, who, uncertain if his kavanot were correct, takes up to three hours to say morning prayers that should take twenty-five minutes. And there is the boy who washes his hands upwards of twenty times a day because of his fears that his hands are not clean enough to learn Torah or say a blessing. Other manifestations of OCD include obsessive, intrusive thoughts of forbidden things, such as avodah zarah (idolatry); plaguing doubts about whether a fleeting thought is halachically considered a neder (vow); long hours spent in washroom activities and extreme vigilance about meat and milk “contamination.”

Yet, OCD manifests itself in every community, religiously observant or not. And today’s daf seems to warn against it:

Rav Mesharshiya said to his son: When you come before Rav Pappa, inquire of him as follows: The four cubits [ammot] mentioned here, do we grant them to each person measured according to his own forearm [amma], i.e., the distance from his elbow to the tip of his index finger, or do we grant them measured according to the cubit [amma] used for consecrated property, i.e., a standard cubit of six medium handbreadths for everyone?

If he said to you that we provide him four cubits measured according to the standard cubit used for consecrated property, what will be with regard to Og, king of the Bashan, who is much larger than this? And if he said to you that we provide him four cubits measured according to his own forearm, say to him: Why was this halakha not taught together with the other matters whose measures are determined by the specific measure of the person involved, in the mishna that teaches: These are matters with regard to which they stated measures all in accordance with the specific measure of the person involved. This means that the measures are not fixed, but rather change in accordance with the person in question. If the four cubits are measured according to each person’s forearm, this law should have been included in the mishna.

IF the details are going over your head. or feeling a bit to picayune, you are not alone. Rav Pappa responds:

When Rav Mesharshiya’s son came before Rav Pappa, the latter said to him: Were we to be so precise, we would not be able to learn anything at all, as we would be too busy answering such questions.

In fact, we grant him four cubits measured according to his own forearm. . . It is because this law is not absolutely clear-cut.

I loved this response in that it captures the danger of being so hung up on details – it can take over your life and you can find you have no time for anything else. The world is not always clear cut. What is right is not always definable. Sometimes you have to use your own compass to measure. Sometimes details can paralyze you. And sometimes we need an outside person to tell us that we need to stop dissecting things and go live life.

There was once a time when The Maury Povich Show was a real talk show. But then, they realized that ratings soared when people either fought, of did paternity tests (ideally both). The show morphed into a public paternity test show. Could’t help but think of Maury saying “You are NOT the father” and “You ARE the father” when I read today’s daf that has a large section on when women having to wait 3 months before they are allowed to marry – in order that there is no question of paternity.

The woman waiting for her brother-in-law may neither participate in ḥalitza nor undergo levirate marriage until three months have passed following her husband’s death, due to concern that she may be pregnant from him, in which case she is exempt from levirate marriage and ḥalitza. After the three-month waiting period it will become clear whether she is pregnant from her husband.

And similarly, all other women may not be married or even betrothed until three months have passed following their divorce or the death of their husbands, whether they are virgins or non-virgins, whether they are widows or divorcees, and whether they became widowed or divorced when they were betrothed or married. . .

A woman who had only been betrothed when she became widowed or divorced may be married immediately, as it may be assumed that the couple did not have relations during the period of their betrothal. This is except for a betrothed woman in Judea, because there the bridegroom’s heart is bold, as it was customary for couples to be alone together during the period of betrothal, and consequently there is a suspicion that they might have had relations, in which case she might be carrying his child. However, no similar concern applies in other places. (Judea was apparently a lot more fun than elsewhere.)

All these rules would make it clear the paternity of any child (and they go on to talk about how if a woman and her husband can’t stand each other and haven’t been in the same house for months, they don’t have to wait.) But there is a difference between divorce – which may reflect months and years of lack of intimacy – and a death . . . widowhood. To this Rabbi Yosei adds”

Rabbi Yosei says: All the women listed above may be betrothed immediately, because the decree applies only with regard to marriage; this is except for a widow, who must wait for a different reason, because of the mourning for her deceased husband.

I think Rabbi Yosei gets to the heart of the matter. While we want women to be able to move on, marry, have children, live rich and full lives after the loss of a spouse – most will want to mourn, at least for a few months. We all need time to mourn. And it’s best to do the mourning in private – not on Maury Povich.

Like many others, my family was sitting at the dinner table, enjoying Rosh haShanah dinner when we got the news that Ruth Bader Ginsburg had died. We are not supposed to mourn on Shabbat, and this was Rosh haShanah as well, but it’s hard to stop emotion. Ruth Bader Ginsburg was the first Jewish woman on the highest court. She has made us so proud. And she followed the legacy of her Talmudic forebareres in her love of law and in her use of the power of dissent from the majority.

A news alert on the phone to learn about a death was not how the world worked 20 years ago, let alone 2,000. It used to take time to find out that someone had passed. On today’s daf, while questioning when we follow a minority opinion, a dissenting opinion, if it’s the lenient opinion we learn this about mourning:

Wasn’t it was taught in a baraita: If a person receives a proximate report that one of his close relatives has died, he practices all the customs of the intense seven day mourning period as well as the customs of the thirty day mourning period. But if he receives a distant report, he practices only one day of mourning.

What is considered a proximate report, and what is considered a distant report? If the report arrives within thirty days of the close relative’s passing, it is regarded as proximate, and if it arrives after thirty days it is considered distant; this is the statement of Rabbi Akiva. But the Rabbis say: Both in the case of a proximate report and in the case of a distant report, the grieving relative practices the seven-day mourning period and the thirty-day mourning period.

And Rabba bar bar Ḥana said that Rabbi Yoḥanan said: Wherever you find that a single authority is lenient with regard to a certain halakha and several other authorities are stringent, the halakha is in accordance with the words of the stringent authorities, who constitute the majority, except for here, where despite the fact that the opinion of Rabbi Akiva is lenient and the opinion of the Rabbis is more stringent, the halakha is in accordance with the opinion of Rabbi Akiva.

And Rabbi Yoḥanan holds like Shmuel, as Shmuel said: The halakha is in accordance with the lenient opinion with regard to mourning.

Mourning and minority opinions, you see why I had to write of RBG. In a 2002 NPR interview she said, “Dissents speak to a future age. It’s not simply to say, ‘My colleagues are wrong and I would do it this way.’ But the greatest dissents do become court opinions and gradually over time their views become the dominant view. So that’s the dissenter’s hope: that they are writing not for today, but for tomorrow.”

The dissent on today’s daf has become law. I am grateful for her’s. I look forward to them becoming law as well.

War, huh, good God y’all. What is it good for? Absolutely nothing. (Edwin Starr)

My son asked me today: why is it that we don’t ear leather on Yom Kippur? We discussed how we get leather from killing one of God’s creatures. The last thing we want to do on Yom Kippur, is remind God about how violent we are. Then I went to read today’s daf which begins with a discussion of those who have to break the Shabbat limits in order to save a life. What happens when they are done with their mission? Can they come back home? What if it’s outside of the 2000 cubits? And we read:

Rav Yehuda said that Rav said: We must not infer from the mishna that they may go home even if they went out more than two thousand cubits from their limit, but rather that they may return with their weapons to their original locations, provided that they are within two thousand cubits. As it was taught in the Tosefta: At first those returning from a rescue mission would place their weapons in the first house that they encountered upon their return, i.e., the house nearest the wall, to avoid carrying on Shabbat any more than necessary. Once, their enemies noticed that they were no longer carrying their weapons, and they chased after them; and the defenders entered the house to take up their weapons and fight, and their enemies entered after them, causing great confusion. In the chaos, the defenders began to push one another, and they killed more of each other than their enemies killed of them. At that time the Sages instituted that they should return to their locations, i.e., their destinations, with their weapons.

So, we get an image of Jewish defenders rushing out to save lives and abandoning their weapons as soon as possible by stowing them in the nearest home so they will no longer carry. This results in a crazy weapons scramble and battle where Jews end up killing other Jews. . . on Shabbat. It reminds me how easy it is for battles to escalate when weapons are brought in. So scary to picture this. But we can see clearly that these Jewish individuals are going out to rescue, and that they do not want to be associated with violence on Shabbat any more than is necessary. So what of other kinds of battle?

Since the Gemara discussed war on Shabbat, the Gemara cites Rav Yehuda, who said that Rav said: With regard to non-Jews who besieged Jewish towns, they may not go out to fight against them with their weapons, nor may they desecrate Shabbat in any other way due to them, but rather they must wait until after Shabbat.

Sounds like we don’t defend on Shabbat. But we’re not done yet:

That was also taught in a baraita, with a caveat: With regard to gentiles who besieged, etc. In what case is this said? It is said in a case where the gentiles came and besieged the town with regard to monetary matters, i.e., banditry. However, if they came with regard to lives, they may go out against them with their weapons, and they may desecrate Shabbat due to them.

So, now it seems that we cannot go and fight if it’s merely the loss of property, however for loss of life we can and must. But again, we’re not done.

Even if the gentiles did not come with regard to lives, but rather with regard to matters of hay and straw, i.e., to raid and spoil the town, they may go out against them with their weapons, and they may desecrate Shabbat due to them.

Hay?

This makes me think of my least favorite of the many laws that scare me in Florida: Stand Your Ground. Stand Your Ground was originally intended to protect homeowners from being sued or arrested when protecting their homes from intruders. It was supposed to protect those who thought they were genuinely in fear for their life and the lives of those in their home. But what is it in practice? It’s a license to shoot, not just to protect life, but to protect property.

Worse. It has successfully been used to allow men to get away with shooting teenagers who they found “intimidating.” It’s lead to people getting shot in parking lots over disputes over a parking space. It’s lead to those who feel “threatened” to murder without recourse.

I know the Talmud does not want this – cannot imagine this. I don’t want it either. It’s an affront to God.

We don’t wear leather for fear of reminding God of what we do to animals. What abotu what we do to one another?

Today’s daf largely deals with a dimlema that began on the end of yesterday’s: The Gemara relates that Neḥemya, son of Rav Ḥanilai, was once so engrossed in his learning that he did not notice that he was going out beyond his Shabbat limit. Rav Ḥisda said to Rav Naḥman: Your student Neḥemya is in distress, as he is outside the Shabbat limit and cannot enter. What can we do for him? Rav Naḥman said to him: Establish a human partition for him, i.e., people who are permitted to go out there should line up and form human walls, through which he is permitted to walk and thereby reenter the Shabbat limit.

Today’s page debates if this is valid by questioning if it is valid to have a human wall (they discuss a human wall for a Sukkah, for a procession, at a wedding . . . )

The gem for me is the image of that human wall. How we can use our bodies to lovingly bring others in. How we can use our bodies to powerfully protect.

There are so many images that come to mind. I hope you are thinking of some as well. I want to share one, that of my friend Keisha Thomas:

When the KKK marched in 1996 in Ann Arbor Michigan. Keisha and thousands of others came to protest. At that time, police in riot gear formed a human wall to protect the Klansman. But one man who had come to march with the KKK walked right into the protesting crowd.

(Francisco Kjolseth,Ann Arbor News/AP)

According to media coverage, when he realized he was on the wrong side of the partition, he started to run. People notices and cries of “Kill the Nazi” rang out, but soon he fell to the ground. Protestors began to kick and strike the man with placards.

Keisha threw herself into harms way to protect him. She made a wall with her body.

Months later a young man approached Keisha in coffee shop and thanked her. When she asked what he was thanking her for, his reply was simple. “That was my dad.”

I met Keisha in 2013 as we walked with the NAACP from Selma to Washington in protest of the repeal of section 5 of the voting rights act – something we are feeling the effects of so strongly today. We made a human wall, a procession that moved across the south. I was one of the 120 rabbis who had signed up to walk with the NAACP, carrying the Torah. I carried the Torah for 13 miles that day. I carried the Torah as we walked past confederate flags. As men in trucks, like the one Keisha had protected, hurtled hate as us (thank God only words).

Keisha is an example of a human who, sometimes wittingly, sometimes unwittingly, serves as a human wall to try and help us, as a society, live in a space that honors God and human dignity.

May we all be more like her.