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

Today’s gem: And that which we learned in another mishna: One gives no less charity to a poor person who is traveling from place to place than a loaf worth a pundeyon, one forty-eighth of a sela, when the standard price of grain is four se’a for a sela. If he sleeps there, one gives him money for sleeping; and if he spends Shabbat in that city, one gives him food for three meals.

Amidst a conversation about how many meals we are to eat on Shabbat, we get this verse that ensures that an itinerant poor person is also taken care of and gets food, a place to sleep at night, and if it’s Shabbat – and extra meal as well. The moral is that we give people what they need – food, shelter, and extra if it’s Shabbat.

And yet it’s hard for most of us to give a dollar. . . how far we have to go!

Today’s gem, that not only do we get to eat delicious challah on Shabbat, but, you should really have two!

Rabbi Abba said: On Shabbat a person is obligated to break bread in his meal over two loaves of bread, as it is written: “And it happened on the sixth day, they collected double the bread, two omer for each one” (Exodus 16:22).

This parallels challah to the mana that God sustained Israel with through our travels in the wilderness. The manna did not fall on Shabbat or holidays; instead, a double portion would fall the day before the holiday or Shabbat, enough to last for both days.

This makes me wonder: How does challah help to sustain the Jewish people today (as mana did in the wilderness)?

All around the world, Jews make challah every Friday night. This is one of my traditions as well (although I make the dough, braid it, and then freeze it before baking on Thursdays since I don’t usually have time to start from scratch on Friday). When I bake challah, I feel connected to women in my community, and all around the world who bake challah for Shabbat. I also feel connected to generations of Jews, both in the past – all the way to those who wandered in the desert – and those in the future. Even for largely secular Jews, challah is a taste of home, of community, of Shabbat.

When my son was a baby, and we started to give him solids, I would always give him a little challah. One day, the women at his presbyterian day care told me he kept saying something and they couldn’t figure it out – it was challah! He was asking for bread. (He also only referred to water as agua at the time – he made me so proud!)

So, while I don’t think challah is like mana in that I don’t believe it has all our nutritional needs; I still think it’s a little slice of the Divine. It connects us to the Divine, to the past, the future, and most importantly, the present.

Today’s daf has a whole lot of holes in it! As it continues the conversation from yesterday about if a holy book can be saved from a fire on Shabbat (if Jewish, in Hebrew and with God’s name – yes.) – the question asks about holy books from other nations (no.). Then we get this weird in between status: what about the holy books of Abidan? Nitzrefei? But no clear explanation of who these people (or nations, or clubs) are:

Yosef bar Ḥanin raised a dilemma before Rabbi Abbahu: With regard to these books of the house of Abidan, does one rescue them from the fire or does one not rescue them? There were sacred Jewish texts in that house, which were used in debates and discussions on matters of faith. Rabbi Abbahu did not give him a clear answer but said yes and no, and the matter was uncertain to him.
Rav would not go to the house of Abidan for conversation, and all the more so he would not go to the house of Nitzrefei, the Persian fire-temple. Shmuel, to the house of Nitzrefei he did not go, but to the house of Abidan he did go. The gentile scholars said to Rava:  Why did you not come to the house of Abidan? He evaded their question with an excuse and said to them: There is a certain palm tree on the road, and that makes the path difficult for me. They said to him: We will uproot it. He said to them: Nevertheless, the resulting pit in its place will be difficult for me.
Mar bar Yosef said: I am one of them, we are friends, and I do not fear them. Still, one time he went and argued with them and they sought to endanger his life. Rabbi Meir would call  the wicked folio [aven gilyon]; Rabbi Yohanan called it the sinful folio [avon gilyon].

According to the tradition of the geonim, the house of Abidan was a well-known courtyard in which there were books of knowledge from all the nations. Scholars and wise men from all nations gathered there to discuss wisdom. (So, as to our discussion, there may have been books there that would have needed to be saved from the fire, even on Shabbat.) The house of Nitzrefei served a similar purpose. However, it was also a temple for idol worship. Therefore, it was appropriate for Shmuel to attend meetings and discussions in the house of Abidan, which he considered as a forum for philosophical debates, but he would never enter the house of Nitzrefei, which was devoted to idolatry. There were other Sages who thought that the debates were problematic and dangerous, and it was preferable to refrain from participation in those forums.

What I find a gem is that the same questions exist today. When do we engage in inter-faith dialogue? When we do, what writings are considered sacred in that space? What can be brought as a proof and what can’t? When are we engaging to learn about the other? When to learn about ourselves and what we really believe? When are we learning only to try and prove the other wrong? When are we learning in hopes of finding a higher truth? When do we call the sacred works of others sinful? Wicked? What passages of our own sacred books would others classify as such?

Can interfaith dialogue be safe? Yes. Should it always be? I am not sure. Physically, yes, it should always be safe. But if it’s real dialogue, it should cause questions to arise – and that can be dangerous – it can also be a source of tremendous growth.

Today’s daf is largely spent on the discussion of what holy writings can be saved from a fire on Shabbat. What we need to know, that the page assumes we know, is that the Torah demands that one should not destroy a holy item as one would a foreign idol (Deuteronomy 12:4). This biblical prohibition encompasses destroying sacred objects, like elements of the Holy Temple and God’s name (Makot 32a). In fact, when a Torah scroll is wearing, we bring it to a sofer – kind of like a Torah doctor – to assess the situation and do repairs. It is possible, that after much use, a Torah scroll may be beyond repair. What do you do?

We treat them as if they are a human being. We do not throw away, or cremate. We do not repurpose – we bury.

Just as human beings are reflections of the Divine, so too the Torah is a reflection of the Divine.

Our daf is concerned with a scenario where a sacred item’s life is at stake – somehow, it has been thrown into the fire. Were it a human – we would break Shabbat to save them. All agree that saving a kosher Torah scroll takes precedence over the Sabbath. But what if it’s written in a foreign language? What if it’s only a few verses of Torah? What if it’s less than 85 letters, but contains the name of God? Is it different if it’s one of the 5 books than if it’s the book of Daniel that is not typically read out loud in synagogue and is in Aramaic?

There are a few reasons why this daf still relevant. One, is the question of how do we give items sanctity? Another is, now that we can all print words of Torah from our home computers – How do we need to treat these items? What do we do when our values of consumerism lead us to mass printings and waste? When our values of environmentalism might lead us to want to recycle instead of bury? What are the lines for us today?

Rabbi Ḥiyya bar Abba said that Rabbi Yoḥanan said: It is disgraceful for a Torah scholar to go out to the marketplace in patched shoes.

Now, I have never been a shoe girl. . . but I have always been very into making sure things match. In the 80s that meant that if I was wearing a yellow shirt and white shorts, I would wear two pairs of socks – one yellow, one white – and white keds. But I never paid much attention to how beat up my shoes were, how dirty – until I was working at Beth Am. . .

I was sitting on the bima next to Rabbi Bookman, and he looked at my shoes and told me they were inappropriate for the bima.

Now, there are plenty of shoes that are in appropriate for the bima. But I was brought up by two parents who had grown up Orthodox – so I NEVER wore open-toed shoes or sling back shoes on the bima (still won’t).

I looked down at my brown, close-toed, low-heeled shoes and asked him what he meant. He pointed out that there were scuff marks and a small whole towards the toe.

I had never cared about shoes before. But I went home and ordered a new pair of brown dress shoes that night.

What Rabbi Bookman was teaching me was the lesson of this line of the daf – if you can afford it, you need to dress the part. It doesn’t matter if you care about shoes or not – other people do. And the last thing you want people doing when you’re teaching is judging your shoe-wear.

So too, Torah scholars represent the Torah and should, therefore, dress themselves in a way that shows respect for the Torah.

Two gems. One, very short: Abaye answered Rav Yosef using a folk expression: Is it simply learn the lesson, let it be like a song? In other words, is it sufficient to simply parrot the halakhic ruling?

I love this. We don’t learn only to learn it, to be able to repeat it – learning is meant to be applied! I wrote a whole High Holy Day sermon on this. Just as physics is applied mathematics – life is better when it’s applied Judaism. Judaism (meaning Torah, Talmud, and our prayers) is not meant to be studied in and of itself – the study is to lead us to doing! A parrot can memorize lines of scripture. Our job is to actualize it.

The second gem, I will also keep short: Rav Huna said: If one has new garments into which he could change on Shabbat, he will change into those garments; and if one does not have garments into which he could change, he lets his garments hang down before Shabbat to beautify himself in deference to Shabbat as it used to be the custom of wealthy people to wear their clothes loosely. Rav Safra strongly objects to this: Doesn’t this appear as haughtiness? The Gemara answers: Since every day he does not do so, and now in honor of Shabbat he is doing so, it does not appear as haughtiness. Rather it is apparent that he is acting in deference to Shabbat.

It’s okay to get dressed up for Shabbat. And while the Talmud does not encourage us, in general, to dress in a way that shows off our affluence – on Shabbat, it’s encouraged to dress up a little, to make it special.

Later, mystics will create the tradition of wearing white to welcome the Sabbath bride. But we get the beginnings of the idea here. Shabbat is a special occasion. You don’t need to be rich, but whatever your status, you should make it special and make sure you feel your best and look your best.

Today’s gem come within a conversation about if you can fix your sandal on Shabbat (I tend to have a ponytail holder around my wrist – it has saved in times of broken shoes on more than one occasion).

Anyway, Ḥizkiya was so impressed by Rabbi Yoḥanan’s comment about it’s permissibility that he exclaimed about him: This is not a human being, but an angel. Some say that he said: This is an ideal human being. On a similar note, Rabbi Zeira said that Rava bar Zimuna said: If the early generations are characterized as sons of angels, we are the sons of men. And if the early generations are characterized as the sons of men, we are akin to donkeys. And I do not mean that we are akin to either the donkey of Rabbi Ḥanina ben Dosa or the donkey of Rabbi Pinḥas ben Yair, who were both extraordinarily intelligent donkeys; rather, we are akin to other typical donkeys.

Okay, besides making sure we don’t think we are on the level of smart donkeys (which made me chuckle), we learn a concept here that will come up again and again in our reading – that the previous generations were greater than ours.

Is this Jewish nostalgia? Are we saying the past was somehow better than the present?

Not at all! This is a way of looking at the world to understand that we are not smarter than our ancestors because we know more about the way the world works – we know more about the way the world works because we have the benefit of reading about what those who came before us learned, discovered, and taught.

In one of his responsa, Isaiah di Trani ben Mali (the Elder) (c. 1180 – c. 1250), known as the  Rid, put it this way: We are “dwarfs riding on the backs of giants.”

Rabbi Tzaddok Ha-Kohen (1823-1900), explains this in his Tzidkat ha-Tzadik, p. 116: “In each and every generation, holiness becomes ever more revealed, even though the generations are in decline, as is well known. The reason is that that which was revealed in the early generations has already been revealed, as is known by way of the parable of the dwarf sitting on top of the giant.”

So, we should not be nostalgic about the past. It wasn’t better than right now. Right now we have more information than ever before. BUT, don’t congratulate yourself. We only know more, can see more, because we are standing on the shoulders of giants.

It’s a kick in the pants – that if Hillel knew what we know now – wow, he would do so much more with it than we can. So? Acknowledge where you knowledge comes from. Be grateful to those who paved the way before you. Give credit where it is do and move forward with gratitude to those whose shoulders we stand upon.

Today’s gem continues the discussion of kos iquarin started yesterday, and asks if a man can really take something that might cause sterility? the Gemara answers: Rather, the remedy for jaundice was discussed with regard to a woman, who is not commanded to reproduce.

Yes. A woman is not required to reproduce.

Rashi comments on this verse, “Rather, [the reference is] to a woman. There is no commandment to be ‘fruitful and multiply’ for her, as I have said in Yevamot. ‘Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it’ [refers to] man. It is his way to subdue and it is not the way of the woman to subdue.”

So, what does this mean? While it opens the door for a woman to control her own reproduction (which we discussed yesterday and will come up a lot in other tractates). The readers may wonder – but what if she wants children?

In Yevamot 65b, we will read: A woman once came before Rabbi Nahman. When he told her, “The commandment does not apply to you,” she replied, “Does not a woman like myself require a staff in her hand and a hoe for digging her grave?” “In such a case,” the Master said, “we certainly compel (the husband).”

The rabbi admits that the commandment to be fruitful and multiply does not apply to women, but she wants a child to take care of her in her old age and to bury her one day. And that desire is enough for the courts to tell her husband he needs to propagate with her or divorce her.

This shows that while procreation is not an obligation for a woman, it is a right. While the commandment to be fruitful and multiply is not one that women are required to fulfill, a woman who wants a child has the right to divorce a man who withholds this right from her.

How beautiful to live in a time when there are so many options open to those who want children, from adoption, to fertility help, to sperm donors, to hormones, to surrogates. . . In today’s world, those who truly want children, who know in their cores that they should be a mother (or father) can be.

Because, for some, just because they can live without children, just because they don’t HAVE TO have kids – doesn’t mean they don’t want them with all their heart and soul.

The gem of the day is a little cup of roots that was a major part of my rabbinic thesis. Why? Because my these was on rabbinic methods of birth control and this kos iqarin, or “cup of roots,” renders the woman who consumes the substance sterile.

תלמוד בבלי מסכת שבת דף קט עמוד ב

משנה. אין אוכלין איזביון בשבת, לפי שאינו מאכל בריאים. אבל אוכל הוא את יועזר, ושותה אבוברואה. כל האוכלין אוכל אדם לרפואה וכל המשקין שותה, חוץ ממי דקלים וכוס עיקרין, מפני שהן לירוקה. אבל שותה הוא מי דקלים לצמאו, וסך שמן עיקרין שלא לרפואה.

MISHNAH. We may not eat Greek hyssop on the Sabbath because it is not the food of healthy people. However, we may beat yoezer and drink abub ro’eh. A man may eat any kind of food as a remedy, and drink any liquid except water of palm trees and potion of roots (kos iqarin) because they are a remedy for jaundice; but one may drink water of palm trees for his thirst and rub himself with oil of roots without medical purpose.

Shabbat 109b

תלמוד בבלי מסכת שבת דף קי עמוד א

וכוס עקרין. מאי כוס עקרין? אמר רבי יוחנן: לייתי מתקל זוזא קומא אלכסנדריא, ומתקל זוזא גביא גילא, ומתקל זוזא כורכמא רישקא, ולישחקינהו בהדי הדדי. לזבה – תלתא בחמרא ולא מיעקרא, לירקונא – תרין בשיכרא ומיעקר. לזבה תלתא בחמרא ולא מיעקרא

“And a potion of roots (kos iqarin).” What is a “potion of roots?” Said R. Yohanan: The weight of a zuz of Alexandrian gum is brought, a weight of liquid alum and a zuz weight of garden crocus, and they are powdered together. For a zabah, a third thereof [mixed] with wine [is efficacious] that she shall not become barren. For jaundice two thirds thereof [mixed] with beer [is drunk], and he [the sufferer] then becomes impotent.

Shabbat 110a

The cup of roots is referred to as the kos iqarin in Tosefta Yevamot Chapter 8, and as kasa d’akarta in Yevamot 65b in an amazing text about Judith, the wife of Rabi Hiyya.

Yehudah and Hezekiah were twins. The features of the one were developed at the end of nine months, and those of the other were developed at the beginning of the seventh month. Judith, the wife of R. Hiyya, having suffered in consequence agonizing pains of childbirth, changed her clothes [on recovery] and appeared before R. Hiyya. “Is a woman commanded to propagate the race?” she asked. — “No,” he replied. And relying on this decision, she drank a sterilizing potion (kasa d’akarta).

Amazing! Her twins were so large, and she never wanted to give birth again, so she asked her husband, but in a disguise so he did not know he was giving his wife permission!

Kos iqarin is probably a cup of any medicinally used roots and, in its context, was only secondarily a sterilizing agent (first is jaundice as we see on today’s daf). Kasa d’akarta is probably more specifically a sterilizing agent, from akar, “barren,” rather than ikkar, “roots.”

Jewish law codes and responsa literature discuss the kos shel iqarin at length. In the discussion of this term as referring to a sterilizing potion, the rabbinic literature assumes the potion to be effective against pregnancy and to be available.

In his Yam Shel Shlomo, Solomon Luria rules on the use of this form of birth control:

In regard to a woman who had children who are rebellious and offenders, and she is permitted to take a sterilizing potion (kos shel iqarin) because she is afraid that she will have more children and they too will not follow the righteous path, I say that she should not drink unless she really suffers with birth like the wife of Rabbi Hiyyah. And yet, if her sons do not follow the right path and she is fearful that she should multiply such progeny, certainly, she is permitted.

Yam Shel Shlomo, Yevamot 6:44

While the cup of roots is not mentioned explicitly in the Bible, Rashi reads it into one of the earliest narratives. Commenting on Genesis 4:19 which reads, “And Lamech took unto him two wives; the name of one was Adah, and the name of the other Zillah;” Rashi explains:

TWO WIVES. So was the custom of the generation of the Flood, one [wife] for propagation and one for marital relations. The one who was for marital relations would be given a portion of roots (kos shel iqarin) to drink, so that she should become sterile, and he would adorn her like a bride and feed her delicacies, but her companion was neglected and was mourning like a widow. This is what Job explained, “He feeds the barren woman who will not bear, but he does not adorn the widow.”150 As explained in the Aggadah of Helek.

ADAH. She was the one for propagation, called so because she was despicable to him and removed from him. “Adah” is the Aramaic translation of surah, turn away.

ZILLAH. She was the one for marital relations, [so named] because she would always sit in his shadow (tzillo).

Sorry if that was a lot – I love this stuff. 1) it’s totally interesting, the rabbis, their wives, the eternal struggle for women to be able to control when and where and how they have children and 2) it’s surprising – to think that it was/is permissible for women to choose for themselves to become sterile; that sex was/is not only for procreation.

There was a lot of amusing things on this page – but this one is one that we should study as it still affects a women today.

Today’s gem comes in the form of a mysterious demon called the “Daughter of the King”

A hand that frequently touches the eye causes blindness. A hand that frequently touches the ear causes deafness. A hand that touches the nose or mouth causes polyps [polypus]. It was taught in a baraita that Rabbi Natan says: She is a liberated entity, this evil spirit that rests on one’s hands before they are washed in the morning, and she refuses to leave until one washes his hands three times. Rabbi Yoḥanan said: When eye shadow is placed on the eyes it causes the evil spirit called the Daughter of the King to pass, and it stops tears and causes eyelashes to grow. That was also taught in a baraita: Rabbi Yosei says: Eye shadow causes the Daughter of the King to pass, and stops tears and causes eyelashes to grow.

This is not our first demon. Back in Berakhot we read:

Berakhot 51a:13

Rabbi Yishmael ben Elisha said: Suriel, the heavenly ministering angel of the Divine Presence, told me three things from on high: Do not take your cloak in the morning from the hand of your servant and wear it; do not ritually wash your hands from one who has not ritually washed his own hands; and only return a cup of asparagus to the one who gave it to you. Why is this? Because a band of demons and some say a band of angels of destruction lie in wait for a person and say: When will a person encounter one of these circumstances and be captured?

In rabbinical school, our professors would humor some of our more random questions. One of mine was: Do Jews do Exorcisms? In the movies it’s always Catholic Priests . . . are you stuck with a demon possessing you if the”power of Christ” does NOT “compel you”?

Open the world of Jewish angelology and demonology. We’ve got them all: Angel’s Michael, Gabriel, Raphael and more. Demons, we have Azazel, dybbuks, Satan, and this lovely Daughter of the King that’s on today’s page just to name a few.

Where did all this go?

Well, Judaism has evolved over the millenia, and about a millennium ago, rabbis worked very hard to show how rational it was to believe in Judaism, unlike some of the other faiths. A different emphasis was put on Jewish thought, practice, and understanding. As Rambam hinted at in his Guide for the Perplexed, ideas like bathroom demons (or the demon of not removing your eyeshadow before bed) were tools to help people behave in holy ways.

And this gets down to an important idea – does it matter if it’s true as long as believing something results in good behavior? Rationalism may have rid mainstream Jewish thought of bathroom demons, but it was a long time after saying it wasn’t “rational” to believe in bathroom demons that we discovered bacteria (the scientific understanding that results in the same behavior as believing in bathroom demons).

What other behaviors have we eschewed because rationalism tells us it’s not real, that science will later uncover as desirable behavior?

It’s happened for regular prayer. For mindful eating. For sining in community.

Religion may not always be rational – but it results in behaviors that are good for our health.

I am going to go to bed now, don’t worry. I washed my face so the Daughter of the King won’t get me.