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

The rabbis want to make sure we can properly concentrate when we say our prayers. They take it very seriously. Today, after discussing what to do if you need to sneeze, spit, burp, or fart while praying – they talk about if you can pray while in bed with your wife. . . and the discussion evolves into questions about is considered “nakedness.” What if it’s your wife? another woman? a sexual organ is exposed? or just her leg?
What is considered too much skin? Rav Hisda says her exposed leg. Shmuel – her singing voice. Rav – her hair. Rav Yitzchak – a handbreadth of skin. Rav Sheshet – her little finger.
And this is text that has been used to say that a woman cannot lead prayer. That we have to be covered from head (no hair, remember?) to toe so as not to distract men.
But I am reading this and thinking – that perhaps this could be read differently.
If, on the same page, a woman’s pinky finger could be considered as seductive as a woman who is completely naked – maybe the point is not about the women, but about the objectification of women. Women are objectified over nothing, over her voice, her pinky. It doesn’t matter what a woman wears, if a man is lewd, he is lewd. Cover her up, he will objectify her by looking lasciviously at her pinky. Put her behind a wall (or mechitzah) he will sexualize her voice.
Maybe this text could be turned on it’s head to say that there are people who can can sexualize anything. so, we cannot set rules for the rest of us based on them –
So ladies, wear what makes you happy. Sing if it brings you joy. And pray with abandon.

Amidst a conversation concerning what to do it you really have to go to the bathroom and you’re wearing your prayer garb, which was quite hilarious, there was this gem: “Rava said: Be prepared to hearken to the words of the wise, who, if they commit a transgression, they bring a sacrifice and repent. He interprets the next part of the verse: “It is better than when fools give sacrifices,” that one should not act like the fools who commit a transgression and bring a sacrifice but do not repent.”
The wise person, yes, makes mistakes, but they admit it and they make up for it. The fool goes through the motions but does not learn the lesson – they still can’t see the difference between right and wrong.
I see this with kids all the time – they say they’re sorry but then don’t actually mean it. They do the punishment, but don’t change their ways. And I am picking on kids, but we do this as adults as well. We are so good at justifying our own bad behavior to ourselves and to others. Or, at times, doing something because we know it’s what we’re supposed to do – but we still haven’t internalized that it’s the right thing to do.
It’s okay to be wrong. It’s okay to mess up. As Big Bird sings: “Everyone makes mistakes, so why can’t you?” But you stay a fool if you don’t stop and learn from them.

Amongst a long conversation about ritual purity, Rabbi Yehuda says: “Although I am lenient with others, and allow them to study it without immersion (to purify themselves), I am stringent with myself.” A true leader and teacher holds him/herself to a higher standard than what they expect from others. For others – be lenient, give the benefit of the doubt. For yourself – expect more.

There is a rule in Judaism that you do not repeat your prayer (e.g. meaning you don’t say the morning prayer twice etc.). Today, the question is asked: what do you do if you’ve already prayed and come upon a congregation in prayer?

The talmud says that you should join them, but bring something new to your prayer.

How often so we say the same words? Go through the same motions? How much more powerful would prayer be if we always tried to bring something new!

In today’s daf, Rav Pappa (which literally means Big Pappa, got to love it) asks a question that I think everyone who questions the bible has asked before: “What was so different about earlier generations that miracles occurred for them, but they don’t occur for us?” It goes on to be defensive, showing that it’s not that previous generations were more righteous, more dedicated to learning . . . and I feel two pulls reading this; 1) that longing for feeling heard by the Divine, of having prayers answered, of wanting to witness miracles and 2) that miracles surround us all the time, and we take them for granted – even those who study the word of God all day long are often blind to the miracles that surround us. Rav Pappa was blind to his privilege. He was born with a silver spoon in this mouth. He was successful in beer brewing, had two wives, was fat from good food . . . he didn’t see the blessings that he had. This made him less generous and less grateful.
Let’s count our blessings. Miracles surround us every day.

Showing others respect, treating them as a reflection of the Divine, can be even more important that following rabbinic law. If we can remember this then people of faith shouldn’t have that aura of “holier than thou” – they should make others feel like they are worthy of love and respect.
“Come and hear: Great is human dignity, as it overrides a prohibition in the Torah.”

“‘For the living know that they will die,’ these are the righteous, who even in their death are called living. . . ‘The dead know nothing.’ These are the wicked, who even during their lives are called dead.”
If you want to really feel like you’re alive inside, it’s not the quick and easy rush that will give you sustained joy, it’s doing righteous deeds.

This daf is full of beautiful prayers. One was particularly fitting for today, a day when we remember Dr. King and how, when he left this world, he left it so much better than how he found it. We remember him as a country today, on the anniversary of his birthday. But in Judaism, we make it a point to remember people on the anniversary of their death. We are born into this world not fully formed. On the day of our death we have taken what God gave us and formed a life based on the choices we have made and the paths we have taken. Because of the path he took, we remember with love and respect, Dr. King. Because of the vision he painted, we still remember his name today, as well as his fight, which we now have the responsibility to continue.
“When Rabbi Yoḥanan would conclude study of the book of Job, he said the following:
A person will ultimately die and an animal will ultimately be slaughtered, and all are destined for death. Therefore, death itself is not a cause for great anguish.
Rather, happy is he who grew up in Torah, whose labor is in Torah,
who gives pleasure to his Creator,
who grew up with a good name and who took leave of the world with a good name.
Such a person lived his life fully, and about him, Solomon said:
‘A good name is better than fine oil, and the day of death than the day of one’s birth'”

“After his prayer, Rav said the following:
May it be Your will, Lord our God,
that You grant us long life, a life of peace,
a life of goodness, a life of blessing,
a life of sustenance, a life of freedom of movement,
a life of dread of sin, a life without shame and disgrace,
a life of wealth and honor,
a life in which we have love of Torah and reverence for Heaven,
a life in which You fulfill all the desires of our heart for good.”
Amen

Proverbs 30:15-16 compares the grave and the womb. On today’s page the rabbis day that they are alike in that both “take in and give forth.” In his book on mourning practices, Gesher Hachaim, Rabbi Tukachinsky used the following parable to explain the Jewish view on life after death:

Twin brothers, fetuses in their mother’s womb, enjoyed a carefree life. Their world was dark and warm and protected. These twins were alike in all aspects but one. One brother was a ‘believer’: he believed in an afterlife, in a future reality much different from their current, miniature universe.

The second brother, however, was a skeptic. All he knew was the familiar world of the womb. Anything besides what he could feel and sense was only an illusion. The skeptic tried to talk some sense into his brother. He warned him to be realistic, but to no avail. His naive brother insisted on believing in an extraordinary world that exists after life in the womb, a world so immense and fantastic that it transcends their wildest dreams.

The months passed, and the fatal moment arrived. Labor began. The fetuses became aware of tremendous contractions and shifting in their little world.

The freethinker recognized that “this is it.” His short but pleasant life was about to end. He felt the forces pressuring him to go down, but fought against them. He knew that outside the womb, a cruel death awaited, with no protective sack and no umbilical cord. Suddenly, he realized that his naive brother was giving in to the forces around them. His brother was sinking lower!

“Don’t give up!” he cried, but his twin took no heed. “Where are you, my dear brother?”

He shuddered as he heard the screams from outside the womb. His poor brother had met his cruel fate. How naive he had been, with his foolish belief in a bigger, better world!

Then the skeptic felt the uterine muscles pushing him out, against his will, into the abyss. He screamed out …

“Mazal Tov!” called out the doctor. “Two healthy baby boys!”