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

Today’s daf discusses only one question – if you can establish an eruv techumin by placing your food in a tree. (Spoiler alert: It all depends on the height of the tree or branch you place the food in and if it’s in a basket or not.)

My gem is from the scene the daf paints, of a tree that passers-by frequently stop and adjust their loads on. Sounds like a simple thing, but (at least in my mind) it also paints a picture of people living in harmony with that tree. Here it is, growing naturally, and so many people pass by it, and so many take advantage of its branches. Here, the rabbis debate the height of the branch that you can use for your eiruv, but they do not suggest cutting it down, or building anything.

We are so out of step with nature in today’s world.

In Miami, we have some of the most beautiful trees, trees that I never saw growing up in the midwest. We have the gorgeous banyan trees that spread arches of shade over the road. We also have the mysterious mangroves with their roots coming out of the water – looking like they could just walk out of the bay if they wanted too.

Yet, we have ripped out miles of mangroves so that wealthy homeowners and beach goers can have an uninterrupted view of the water. This, of course, contributes to sea level rise and land erosion.

And when the banyan trees get too big, so much that their roots break through the sidewalks and they begin to spread into the streets – they are removed as well.

So, when I read today’s daf, I think about how we, as humans might adjust how we live (where we build our roads, where we “beach”) in a way that would allow for our beautiful and life giving trees to live as well. Shabbat is supposed to bring us Shalom – peace, from the root shalem, meaning wholeness. We cannot be whole while we see ourselves as separate from our neighbors or as separate from nature.

Today’s gem asks us to grapple with the question: Is it ever permissible to knowingly break a law in order to save a friend from committing an even bigger transgression?

Gemara answers: Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi holds: It is preferable to a ḥaver that he commit a minor transgression, so that an am ha’aretz will not commit the major transgression. And Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel holds: It is preferable to a ḥaver that an am ha’aretz commit a major transgression, and that he himself not commit even a minor transgression.

Can you commit a minor sin, so your friend (who maybe doesn’t know as much as you) will commit a major sin?

Here, we see a disagreement in the response – because this is a really hard concept to wrap one’s head around. The rabbis are dealing with tithing of food, but we might see how this could apply to other areas of life. In fact, the rabbis grappled with this back no Shabbat 4a:

ף לַהּ רַב שֵׁשֶׁת: וְכִי אוֹמְרִים לוֹ לָאָדָם ״חֲטָא כְּדֵי שֶׁיִּזְכֶּה חֲבֵירְךָ״?!

Rav Sheshet strongly objected to this. And does one tell another person: Sin so that another will benefit? Permitting one to violate a prohibition, even one prohibited by rabbinic law, in order to help another perform a mitzvah is inconceivable. The same is true with regard to preventing another from violating a more severe prohibition.

In Shabbat, we saw clearly that you don’t ask someone to violate even a lesser prohibition in order to prevent someone else from violating a bigger one.

So, why doesn’t Yehuda HaNasi agree? Why does he, the chief redactor and editor of the Mishnah – the one who basically created rabbinic Judaism, hold that we do commit a minor transgression to stop our friend from commiting a major one?

So, I will give you two answers – the first is from Rabbi Dovid Bashevkin who asserts that this is a different kind of a case: in this case, the person in danger of committing the major transgression is in that position only because of the actions of the person who is in a position to stop them through a minor transgression. In this case the person who gave the faulty info (or action) must insert themselves to stop the bigger sin. So, if you are the reason that person is about to sin then you should perform a minor violation to prevent your friend from a major one.

One example of this is the eruv that encircles Manhattan that allows Jews in Manhattan to experience the island as a “private domain” on Shabbat. Many halakhic authorities opposed the eruv, including Moshe Feinstein. He saw it as a violation of some of the rabbinic laws we are studying in this tractate. However, his opinion did not win the day. The rabbis were willing, in this case, to commit a minor (rabbinic) violation to prevent the hundreds of thousands of Jews who live in Manhattan from violating the (biblical) prohibition to carry on Shabbat.

My second answer is just a personal one. While I would certainly agree that, if my friend were in this position because of me, I would bear more responsibility, I also would likely intervene even if it was not my doing. I think we have all had moments where we see a friend about to go down a bad road and didn’t know how to stop it. Sometimes, the way to prevent someone you care about from hurting themselves, or others, or just doing something majorly stupid, might involve doing some minor infraction. (Like when your friend is so mad at her X that she wants to commit a little vandalism – breaking off forks in the yard, scratching the car – but you insist that you get wasted and hit the town instead. Nothing classy about that, but certainly less destructive. I am sure there are better examples, I can only think of pretty terrible ones . . .)

May we all have good friend and be good friends. . . and help them when we can.

So, when we talk about an eiruv, I typically think of the metal wires that encircle certain neighborhoods in Brooklyn, within which everyone can walk and carry on Shabbat. In this tractate, however, we are seeing different kinds of eiruvs. Today’s daf is focused in on how you establish an eiruv Techumim. Basically, you are only allowed to travel so far outside of your abode, or your eiruv (200 amot); however, you can go and establish a new “abode” for Shabbat by moving your things, or as is suggested in the past few dapim, you can carry food enough for two meals to this other location, within the 200 amot, and then you are free to travel an additional 200 amot from that place.

Today’s gem comes amidst a question of if you can send another person to establish this eiruv for you. What if this person is not bound by the same laws? What if they are a child? Have handicaps? Don’t believe in the validity of an eiruv? Then it gets weird:

If one gave the eiruv to a trained elephant, and it brought it to the place where he wanted the eiruv deposited, or if he gave it to a monkey, and it brought it to the proper location, it is not a valid eiruv. But if he told another person to receive it from the animal, it is a valid eiruv. The Gemara asks: But perhaps the animal will not bring the eiruv to the person appointed to receive it? Rav Ḥisda said: The baraita is referring to a case where the person sending the eiruv stands and watches it from afar until it reaches the person designated to receive the eiruv. The Gemara asks further: But perhaps the person appointed to receive the eiruv will not accept it from the elephant or monkey. Rav Yeḥiel said: There is a legal presumption that an agent fulfills his agency.

Rav Naḥman said: With regard to Torah laws, we do not rely on the presumption that an agent fulfills his agency; rather, one must actually see the agent performing his mission. 32aל״ב א

However, with regard to rabbinic laws, we do rely on the presumption that an agent fulfills his agency. And Rav Sheshet disagreed and said: With regard to both this, Torah law, and that, rabbinic law, we rely on the presumption that an agent fulfills his agency.

And this is today’s gem for me, a fabulous lesson in supervision: it’s wonderful to delegate (and we should – that’s what Yitro teaches Moses), but make sure that the work actually gets done. Just because you’ve designated someone else, does not mean that you abdicate all responsibility. If it’s your responsibility, even if you give it to someone else, you still need to insure that it gets done.

Now, off to checking if things have gotten done that need to at work.

Today’s daf is all about people with differences. We have heard on the past few dapim about the danger of generalizations – yet we often need them in order to lay out rules. Today the daf asks about specific exceptions to the rule:

This started at the end of yesterday’s daf when Rav Yosef points out how there would be a discrepancy in the law of blessings for Persians, who eat their meat without bread. Abaye says: Are Persians the majority of the world?! (The Halachah is not based on a minority practice!)

We proceed to hear many exceptions to the rule of thumb:

1. The difference between clothes for rich and poor: Clothes proper for Aniyim (e.g. cloth three by three fingers, it can be used for a patch) are Mekabel Tum’ah (Tosfos – of Mishkav u’Moshav) if a poor person owns them. Clothes proper for Ashirim (rich people, e.g. three by three Tefachim) are Mekabel Tum’ah even for Ashirim; An poor person’s clothes need not befit a rich person.

2. (A sick or elderly person might need less food. Their lesser amount would still count for their eiruv. But what of a person who eats a ton (a glutton)? We only require an average amount.

3. Which doorway to take a dead body out of the house completely depends upon the person. If they are a giant, like Og, then only the doorway big enough to bring him through woudl become impure whereas those that are smaller stay pure. If you can fit through all, then they all are impure because any door might be used.

This is today’s gem, because we do have general rules but we make exceptions for those who are poor, elderly, ill, or are physically different from others. It’s just a lovely reminder that we need to see each individual and adjust for their needs. What if that was the way we always framed things? Instead of trying to make those with different abilities and capacities conform to the norm, we challenged the norm and made the world work for them?

During this pandemic, we have allowed people to work from home in ways we have not before. We have allowed access to on line learning to those who have mobility and hearing issues. People are plugged in in new ways. When, God willing, we go back to “normal” let’s not go back to telling those who are not “typical” to adjust or overlook their need.

She’s back! We met Abaye’s adoptive mother in previous chapters. She is a source of wisdom especially in areas of health. Today, we hear a lesson from her again.

The Gemara tangentially relates that Abaye said: Mother, actually his foster mother, told me: These roasted grains are good for the heart and drive away worrisome thoughts. And Abaye said: Mother told me about another remedy. One who suffers from weakness of the heart should go and bring the meat of the right thigh of a ram, and also bring the dung of grazing cattle from the month of Nisan, and if there is no cattle dung he should bring willow twigs, and then roast the meat on a fire made with the dung or twigs, and eat it, and drink afterward some diluted wine. This will improve his condition.

Well, we can see how someone with anemia might benefit from some red meat and perhaps understand how a delicious meal might drive away worrisome thoughts. But that’s us now looking back. At the time, these were just “old wives tales” or “bubbe meisahs” passed from woman to woman. Amazing how science today can prove things women knew and told one another over the millenia. I love that Abaye 1) values his mother’s teaching 2) wants it included in the Talmud 3) it is included!!

When I was little and couldn’t sleep, my mom would warm milk for me on the stove top (microwave didn’t work the same way). She told me it would help me fall asleep. When I asked her where you she learned this, she said her mom did it for her. It often worked.

Was it because sipping something warm and filling can help you relax? Very likely. Did it work because of the small amount of tryptophan in milk? Possibly. Did it work because I got my mom’s attention before bed? Undoubtedly.

Today’s gem is a scene. The daf is largely occupied with seeing if certain generalisations apply to making an eiruv or requiring a second tithing. Amidst this conversation we get a scene that if then unpacked for it’s halakhic teaching on the daf – but for me, it’s the scene itself that has a lot to teach:

The Gemara relates that when Rabbi Zeira was exhausted from his studies, he would go and sit at the entrance to the academy of Rav Yehuda bar Ami, and say: When the Sages go in and out, I shall stand up before them and receive reward for honoring them, as it is a mitzva to honor Torah scholars. Too tired to engage in actual Torah study, he sought a way to rest while fulfilling a different mitzva at the same time.

Once, a young school child was leaving the study hall. Rabbi Zeira said to him: What did your teacher teach you today? He said to him: The proper blessing for dodder is: Who creates the fruit of the ground; the proper blessing for green grain is: By Whose word all things came to be. Rabbi Zeira said to him: On the contrary, the opposite is more reasonable, as this, the green grain, derives nourishment from the ground, whereas that, the dodder, derives nourishment from the air, and it is fitting to recite a blessing over each item in accordance with its source of nourishment.

The Gemara concludes: The halakha is in accordance with the young school child.

So, here is why I like this scene.

1. You can love learning and Torah (or whatever it is you do) and still need a break. I feel as though Rabbi Zeira is modeling how to not get burnt out. If you’re too tired, go take a break. You don’t need to leave (the community, your profession, etc.) all together to get rest. Pay attention to how your feeling and honor it.
2. You can learn a lot from young people. I love how the rabbi asks this young student what he learned. We should all be doing that in a way where we are open to the young having knowledge that we don’t. (I know my 5th and 3rd grader often blows me away; not to mention my students.)
3. There are always opportunities to do mitzvot if you look for them. Rabbi Zeira is too tired for his normal mitzvah – so he finds another – honoring others. That’s a good and very accessible mitzvah for most of us to practice.
4. You can have a good argument and have good logic behind it, and still be wrong. This, I believe, is modeled on many pages of Talmud. I am still working on internalizing this lesson, so it’s good that we hear it repeatedly and in different ways.

“Never say never.” “The exception that proves the rule.” Today’s gem teaches us how to say this in Aramaic: אֵין לְמֵידִין מִן הַכְּלָלוֹת

We learn “rules of thumb” but even these seem to have exceptions. As we read:

GEMARA: Rabbi Yoḥanan said: One may not learn from general statements, i.e., when a general statement is made in a mishna using the word all, it is not to be understood as an all-inclusive, general statement without exceptions. This is true even in a place where it says the word except. Even in that case, there may be other exceptions to the rule that are not listed.

So, what is an example of this? Glad you asked, now we get some interesting text for us to unpack:

The Gemara answers: With regard to all time-bound, positive commandments, i.e., mitzvot that can only be performed at a certain time of the day, or during the day rather than at night, or on certain days of the year, men are obligated to perform them and women are exempt. But positive commandments that are not time-bound, both women and men are obligated to perform.

That’s right readers. Because the men of the Mishna (and Talmud, and 1950s) relied on women to take care of the home, the kids (and they often worked as well) they recognized that it would be hard to ask someone so busy to drop everything to pray 3 times a day and some of these other mitzvot we have been reading about. But is this a rule with no exception? We read on:

Is it a general principle that women are exempt from all time-bound, positive commandments without exception? But there is the commandment to eat matza on Passover, the commandment of rejoicing on a Festival, and the commandment of assembly in the Temple courtyard once every seven years during the festival of Sukkot following the Sabbatical Year, all of which are time-bound, positive commandments, and nevertheless, women are obligated to perform them.

Ah! so women are obligated in some of the mitzvot. (By the way, it does not say women are prevented from fulfilling any of the mitzvot, just that they are not obligated. In this way halakhic movements such as conservative and now some modern orthodox have allowed women to be ordained as long as they choose to fulfill the mitzvot. Reform is a whole different story. . . .)

Similarly, are women obligated in all positive commandments that are not time-bound? But there is the commandment of Torah study, the commandment to be fruitful and multiply, and the commandment of redemption of the firstborn, all of which are positive commandments that are not time-bound, and nevertheless, women are exempt from them.

So, I love this as a feminist and want to sit here all day debating and unpacking this (some I already have – like my post on why women are not obligated to have children). But I chose it not because of the fascination I have with the text – but with the rule that this text illustrates:

Rather, Rabbi Yoḥanan said: One may not learn from general statements, even in a place where it says except, because it is always possible that there other exceptions to the rule.

Humans love to make sweeping generalizations – but, in general, they’re not true (see what I did there?). Generalizations can help us to digest information, or know what is expected of us (as in the case on today’s daf of women and mitzvot) but they should not be held sacrosanct.

I think generalizations cause a lot of harm. They take away the fact that each of us ins unique. Brene Brown wrote, “It’s hard to hate people up close.” It’s easy to hate a mob of blurry faces that I have all lumped together as a “them” and heaped my judgements upon. But we are all snowflakes, unique and with some beauty. . .

This is my gem because I think it challenges us to not make generalizations. To look both to the larger picture, and to the individualized picture as well.

As a rabbi, I often have the privilege of being with someone when they are gravely ill and when death is near. I call it a privilege because it’s so intimate, and because I see what it would/does look like without family and friends (which is too often the case now that we have limited accessibility because of the Coronavirus). Often those taking care of the ill and dying person does not know them. Does not know who they are. These care takers are often so loving and kind, but they do not know that the person they are speaking to is a judge; is a rabbi; is a doctor; is a wicked story teller; is a caretaker; is strong; is a survivor . . . or has been till now.

Today’s daf holds such a beautiful gem.

Rabba bar bar Ḥana said that Rabbi Yoḥanan said: This teaches that Hezekiah took ill, and Isaiah went and established a Torah academy at his door, so that Torah scholars would sit and occupy themselves with Torah outside his room, the merit of which would help Hezekiah survive.

When we are sick we are in danger of losing ourselves. When we are close to death, the hardest part is not feeling like we are living.

This is so beautiful. Hezekiah was sick, so what did Isaiah do? He brought the Torah academy to him. He couldn’t go to the academy anymore, so the academy came to him.

My friend Lynn Cromer was one of those women who always liked to do for others. She cooked, she laughed, she listened, she smiled. She helped me find my home, both literally and figuratively. After her cancer returned and she had tried everything to beat it once again, she found herself sick . . . too sick to leave the house. But, she told me she needed to do something for others. It was her identity. She didn’t want to lose herself before we all lost her. She spent the last months of her life, slowly and painstakingly sewing pillow cases for friends she new were sick. None as sick as her.

I cannot tell you how moved the recipients were. . . that a woman on her deathbed had thought of them. . . had spent some of her last hours making something for them. But it was for her as well.

What dignity Isaiah brought to Hezekiah.

When I was sick, keeping my identity as a rabbi helped me to move through; keeping my identity as a mom made me want to fight; still being able to be me was everything.

Today’s gem comes amidst a discussion of the question of, who inherits the land of a Jew by Choice if they do not designate an heir?

The Gemara asks: With regard to what issue was this dilemma raised? If it was raised with regard to acquiring the property of a convert, this is precisely the same as the ruling cited by Yirmeya Bira’a, as Yirmeya Bira’a said that Rav Yehuda said: If one sowed turnip seeds in cracks which he found in land that had belonged to a convert, and another Jew came and plowed the ground a little, the latter one, the one who plowed, acquires the property, and the first one does not acquire it.

What is the reason that the first one who sowed the seeds does not acquire the property? At the time that he sowed, the land was not improved by his sowing. When it did improve, with the growth of the turnips, it improved on its own. That is to say, the act of sowing alone is not a sufficiently noticeable action that changes and improves the property at the time. Although the sowing later proves to have been beneficial, this is seen as an improvement of the land that comes on its own. Therefore, an action that will only provide benefit in the future cannot serve as an act of acquisition.

This is my gem, not because of what it’s teaching about inheritance, but because of what it teaches us about cultivation and ownership.

We can have all the seeds in the world, all the best ideas – but, if we don’t plant them, if we don’t cultivate them, then we haven’t done anything of note. However, when we get our hands dirty, when we do the work (often arduous work), then we own that piece of the garden.

We should ask ourselves the gemara’s question every day: What did I improve?

Eruvin is known as the hardest section of the Talmud. And with good reason. I find myself often wishing it was illustrated so I could see exactly what they are talking about. My gem for today comes from Hezkiyah responding to an explanation by Rabbi Yochanan. The daf asks about the validity of a partition if it is made one amot at a time (fence in one amot, breach it, fence in one amot further, breach it, etc.). Rav Nachman says that this is like the case of the broken sandal! Hezkiyah says he still does not understand this rule. The broken sandal rule says that if a sandal gets a hole the size of an olive, you can patch it up. Hezkiyah is wondering – well what if you patch it, and it gets another hole, and another, and you keep patching it – but had you not patched it the hole would have become as large as a pomegranate (and therefore would no longer be pure). Yochanan comes and explains this ruling – and then applies it to the case we are dealing with today (with the partitions). Hezkiyah is dumbfounded – this guy is a genius! He exclaims either:

Version #1 – Rabbi Yochanan is [an angel, and] not a human!

Version #2 – Rabbi Yochanan is [the paradigm of greatness possible in] a human!

This passage is a comfort to me, as I too am having trouble following the logic of some of these discussions. I too sometimes find an explanation and then it finally clicks and I want to tell that person that they’re brilliant.

But mostly I like it because I feel like Hezkiyah is reflecting how I feel often when I hear brilliance pouring out of the mouth of another person. Or when I hear music that pulls at my soul. Or when I see art that expresses a truth that words can’t quite grasp. These glimpses of the Divine within our fellow human beings. Where they seem to transform into conduits of something more than human.