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

Menachot 76

We are bringing meal offerings on the daf! And bringing a good lesson on how laws should be derived.

In typical Talmud style, The Gemara wants to know the reasoning behind a law. The Gemara asks: According to Rabbi Yehuda, who states in the mishna with regard to all the meal offerings that they come as ten loaves or ten wafers, from where do we derive this halakha?

The daf goes on to give us lots of possibilities for where Rabbi Yehuda might have derived this ruling.

It would make so much sense to derive the standard from the High Priest’s offering. It’s holier, more elevated, more precise. If you want to know what an offering should look like, why not learn from the very best?

And in fact, the Gemara even admits that the High Priest’s offering is the best match in many ways, it’s the most similar to the meal offerings above. But in the end, that’s not where the law comes from!

Instead, Rabbi Yehuda chooses to derive the rule from the loaves of the thanksgiving offering. Why? Because they are brought by an ordinary person.

The Gemara answers: Nevertheless, Rabbi Yehuda prefers to learn the halakha of the other meal offerings, which are brought by an ordinary person, from the loaves of the thanks offering, which are brought by an ordinary person.

That’s the gem: Judaism does not set its standards based on the most elite or ideal version of religious life. It builds law from what regular people can actually do. Holiness is not defined by the High Priest at the top—but by the lived reality of the people.

Menahot 75

Today’s daf asks a surprising question: when do you say Shehecheyanu over a meal offering? – meaning an offering that wold be offered every day?

Would it be when a person brings it for the first time? One opinion suggests it’s said when a kohen/priest performs this service for the first time—or even the first time in a long time. Even though this is part of his regular role, the rarity of the moment gives it weight. It becomes something worth marking.

That idea is beautiful.

Today’s gem: Judaism teaches us to notice moments that don’t happen every day, and to take notice of the everyday. Even things that are technically routine can become sacred when they are appreciated, newly experienced, or not taken for granted. Sometimes the holiest thing we can do is pause and say: this moment matters.

Menachot 74

Today we get a new Mishna that asks: Who has the greater power? The Altar of the Priest?

MISHNA: The meal offering of priests, the meal offering of the anointed priest, i.e., the High Priest, and the meal offering brought with libations that accompany burnt offerings and peace offerings are burned in their entirety on the altar, and there is no part of them for the priests. And in the case of those offerings, the power of the altar is greater than the power of the priests. The two loaves, i.e., the public offering on Shavuot of two loaves baked from new wheat, and the shewbread, i.e., the twelve loaves that were placed on the sacred Table in the Sanctuary each Shabbat, are eaten by the priests, and there is no part of them burned on the altar. And in the case of those offerings, the power of the priests is greater than the power of the altar.

At first glance, the daf divides the world neatly: sometimes the altar gets everything, and sometimes the priests do. Who is “stronger”?

But then the Gemara pushes back. Even when it seems like one side gets everything, it turns out that’s not entirely true. The priests get the skin. The libations don’t quite go where we thought. There is almost always some sharing, some overlap.

The gem: Life isn’t really about all-or-nothing. Even when something feels completely given away, a part remains. And even when something seems entirely ours, we are meant to share it. Holiness lives not in extremes, but in the space where giving and receiving meet.

Menachot 73

Today’s gem is the assumed intention of the non-Jew who wants to bring a sacrifice.

Peace offerings volunteered by gentiles are sacrificed as burnt offerings, which are burned completely upon the altar. With regard to the source for this halakha, if you wish, cite a verse; and if you wish, propose a logical argument. If you wish, propose a logical argument: Concerning a gentile who volunteers an offering, the intent of his heart is that the offering should be entirely sacred to Heaven, and he does not intend for any of it to be eaten. And if you wish, cite a verse: “Any man [ish ish] who is of the house of Israel, or of the strangers in Israel, that brings his offering, whether it be any of their vows, or any of their gift offerings, which they will offer to the Lord as a burnt offering” (Leviticus 22:18). The doubled term ish ish teaches that the offerings of a gentile are accepted, and the verse thereby teaches that any offering that gentiles volunteer to be sacrificed should be a burnt offering.

The rabbis assume something generous and beautiful here: that when someone outside the system chooses to give, they are giving fully.

Our gem is that sometimes the purest spiritual act is the one that asks for nothing in return. To give something entirely—to not hold a piece back for ourselves—is a rare kind of holiness.

Menachot 72

In her book, Daring Greatly, Brene Brown teaches, “Perfection is the enemy of done. Good enough is really effin’ good.”

That’s the gem for our daf today. While discussing bringing the omer offering (a daily offering brought between Passover and Shavuot), we learn that there is the perfect – and there’s the good enough.

Since it is a mitzva to bring the omer from the moist grain, one can ask: From where is it derived that if one does not find barley from the moist grain, he should bring it from the dry grain? The verse states: “You shall bring,” to include this case. Alternatively, the term “you shall bring” teaches the following: Since the mitzva of the omer is for it to be reaped at night, from where is it derived that if it was reaped during the daytime, it is fit? The verse states: “You shall bring.”

What a great gem and lesson. Yes, there is an ideal way to do things, but getting it done is what’s really important.

Menachot 71

The Shema consists of three paragraphs: Deuteronomy 6:4–9, Deuteronomy 11:13–21, and Numbers 15:37–41. But, if you ask your average Reform Jew, we would only say one line, “”Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one” (Shema Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu Adonai Echad). The rest we call the “v’ahavta” prayer.

Today’s daf makes me think that maybe the rabbis of the Talmud agreed with the Reform community.

On our daf today, the rabbis begin to list actions that the Jews of Jerico would do that the rabbis did not approve of. One is “bundle Shema.” With regard to three of them the Sages reprimanded them, and with regard to the other three the Sages did not reprimand them. And these are the actions they performed for which the Sages did not reprimand them: They would graft palm trees the entire day, and they would bundle Shema, and they would reap and pile grain before the omer offering was brought. And these are the actions they performed for which the Sages reprimanded them: They would permit the use of consecrated branches of carob and of sycamore trees; they would make breaches in the walls of their gardens and orchards, in order to feed fallen fruit to the poor during drought years on Shabbatot and Festivals; and they would designate for the poor the produce in the corner [pe’a] in a field of vegetables. And the Sages reprimanded them for those actions.

Apparently, “bundling” the Shema meant that they did not pause between that Shema and V’ahavta and said them all as one!

There is deeper meaning in this as well. Rabbi Moshe Feinstein taught that in the Shema we are accepting the yoke of heaven, while in the V’ahavta, we are accepting the yoke of the mitzvot.

The gem: Accepting God and living God’s mitzvot are linked—but each requires its own pause, its own intention.

Menachot 70

Do you eat rice on Passover? Growing up, I was not allowed, but the rabbis on the daf seem to make it clear that rice does not count as Chametz (items with leaven)! While discussing which grains require separating challah (not the loaf, challah actually refers to a percentage of dough/bread taken from your dough/bread to be offered to the Levites) we learn that the 5 species that require challah are the same 5 species forbidden to eat not in matzah form on Passover.

A Sage taught in a baraita: Spelt is a type of wheat, while oats and rye are a type of barley. The Gemara translates the lesser-known species into the vernacular Aramaic: Spelt is called gulva, rye is dishra, and oats are shibbolei ta’ala. The Gemara infers: With regard to these species, yes, the obligation of ḥalla applies to them, but concerning rice and millet, no, the obligation of ḥalla does not apply to them. The Gemara asks: From where is this matter, that only these five grains are obligated in the separations of ḥalla, derived? Reish Lakish said: This principle is derived by means of a verbal analogy between “bread” and “bread” from the case of matza. It is written here, with regard to ḥalla: “And it shall be that when you eat of the bread of the land, you shall set apart a portion for a gift to the Lord” (Numbers 15:19), and it is written there, with regard to matza: “Bread of affliction” (Deuteronomy 16:3). Just as matza can be prepared only from one of those five grains, so too the obligation of ḥalla applies only to bread from one of those five grains. The Gemara asks: And there, with regard to matza itself, from where do we derive that it must be from one of those five grains? The Gemara answers: Reish Lakish said, and likewise a Sage of the school of Rabbi Yishmael taught, and likewise a Sage of the school of Rabbi Eliezer ben Ya’akov taught, that the verse states: “You shall eat no leavened bread with it; seven days you shall eat with it matza, the bread of affliction” (Deuteronomy 16:3). This verse indicates that only with regard to substances that will come to a state of leavening does a person fulfill his obligation to eat matzaby eating them on Passover, provided that he prevents them from becoming leavened. This serves to exclude these foods, i.e., rice, millet, and similar grains, which, even if flour is prepared from them and water is added to their flour, do not come to a state of leavening but to a state of decay [sirḥon].

It’s all chemistry my dear. When mixed with water, the five species of grain from which matzah may be made undergo fermentation even without the addition of yeast, while rice will spoil long before the fermentation process becomes noticeable.

Go science! Go rabbis! And maybe, go buy some rice for Passover!

I’m sure you’re wondering how – if the Talmud allows it – so many of us grew up not eating rice on Passover. This restriction was established in the 13th century when the Ashkenazi rabbis insister rice can be confused with or contaminated by on eof the 5 forbidden grains. Now you know. Now you can make the call.

Menachot 69

When my son was a teething toddler, he had a spot of hot pink in his poop. I freaked out thinking he must have some weird disease. I called to my husband who came in, took one look, and said – it’s part of the play matt, he must have bitten some off.

In and out, none digested. Today’s daf reminded me of this story. Oh just wait, it’s good. First, you need to know that when it comes to a utensil contracting ritual impurity, the rules for a basket are different from something made from animal dung. Okay, here it is:

Rami bar Ḥama raises yet another dilemma: In the case of an elephant that swallowed an Egyptian wicker basket and excreted it intact along with its waste, what is the halakha?

Yep. Rami bar Hama wants to know if an elephant ate a wicker basket and pooped it, is it impure or not?

HELLO?!

But, fun fact, this very likely happened! It turns out that elephants don’t digest about half of what they eat, and they eat over 400 lbs of food every day – so it’s very possible that an elephant could eat a basket and poop it intact.

How do we make this spiritual? Well, of what we take in, what is it that we digest? What are we able to allow to pass through us without affecting us?

Menachot 67

Today’s gem is just to be hopeful. To never give up hope, to expect the best to happen. It reminds me of how Miriam has her timbrel ready to go when the Jews escaped Egypt.

The Gemara questions the claim that the purpose of waiting until the sacrifice of the omer is only in order to fulfill the mitzva in the most optimal fashion. The mishna teaches: From the time that the Temple was destroyed, Rabban Yoḥanan ben Zakkai instituted that partaking from the new crop on the day of waving the omer, the sixteenth of Nisan, is completely prohibited and one may partake of the new crop only the next day. The Gemara analyzes this statement. What is the reason for this? It is that soon the Temple will be rebuilt, and people will say: Last year [eshtakad], when there was no Temple, didn’t we eat of the new crop as soon as the eastern horizon was illuminated, as the new crop was permitted immediately upon the advent of the morning of the sixteenth of Nisan? Now, too, let us eat the new grain at that time.

Here’s to tomorrow being even better than today.

Menachot 66

We are told to count 7 weeks of 7 days, to count 50 days from Passover to the holiday of Shavuot. Much of our day today deals with the apparent contradiction of why we need to count both days and weeks, and how to make that 7×7=50 (You count 7×7 then the next day is Shavuot). Anyway, after argument about how to count, we get this gem of a line:

Abaye said: It is a mitzva to count days, and it is also a mitzva to count weeks.

We have all heard the expression “make every day count,” this takes that to a whole new level. Each day should count, each day is an opportunity to do a mitzvah, each day we have short term goals we want to accomplish. Each week should count as well, we need to have long term goals, and those day to day mitzvoth can and should dd up to something bigger.

Let’s make today count!