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

When is it appropriate for a child to cut their own steak? Walk to school on their own? Run to the store to pick up an item for the family? Apparently, these questions are nothing new.

MISHNA: With regard to one who sends his son to a storekeeper with a pundeyon, a coin worth two issar, in his hand, and the storekeeper measured oil for him for one issar and gave him the second issar as change, and the son broke the jug and lost the issar, the storekeeper must compensate the father, as he gave the jug and coin to one who is not halakhically competent. Rabbi Yehuda exempts him from liability, as he holds that the father sent his son in order to do this, i.e., to bring back the jug and coin. And the Rabbis concede to Rabbi Yehuda with regard to a case when the jug is in the hand of the child and the storekeeper measured the oil into it that the storekeeper is exempt if the child breaks the jug.

Here we have a child sent to the store by the parent. It looks as though the child was to buy a jug of oil and bring the oil and the change back home. But, the kids drops the jug, breaking it and losing the oil AND loses the change.

The stama says the storekeeper should compensate the father, why? Well, maybe the child was too young for this task and the storekeeper should have known better then to give this kid something so fragile. But Rabbi Yehudah disagrees arguing that the parents knew the danger of sending the kid – but they want the kids to learn! That’s not the storekeepers fault.

Amazing how the daf still speaks to current debates. Should adults intervene when they see a child walking to the store and they (the adult noticing) think the child is too young? Or, is it none of their business? Does the parent want the child to gain independence (even if they can’t find the item or damage or lose the item)?

The rabbis err on the side of teaching the child independence. It’s called “adulting” and it’s good practice for our kids.

I am allergic to animals with fur and feathers. So, I don’t purposefully pick them up. As much as I want to and as cute as I think they are, I can’t breath with them. But I always feel bad that I can’t pic them up. Until today’s daf.

And the Rabbis say: Small domesticated animalsare acquired through pulling. Ravina explains the proof: But small domesticated animals are creatures that can be lifted, and yet the mishna teaches that one acquires them through pulling. Rav Ashi rejected this proof: Domesticated animals are different, as they cling to the ground and it is difficult to lift them. Therefore, the usual manner of moving animals is to pull them.

So, maybe all animals don’t want to be picked up…

When you’re in someone else’s home, you have to follow their rules. In your own home, it’s house rules. In public? Whose rules are they?

Todays daf reminds up that you can’t just do whatever you want in public.

A person’s vessels effect acquisition of any item placed inside them for him, in any place in which they are situated, except for the public domain.

From this text we get the idea that, just because it’s in the public domain, doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want.

What color is the sun?

The Gemara is discussing under what circumstances one can renege on a sale. The mishna teaches that if the seller said that he was selling reddish-brown [sheḥamtit] wheat and it is found to be white, both the seller and the buyer can renege on the sale.

Rav Pappa said: From the fact that the mishna teaches: White, conclude from the mishna that this sun is red, not white. Know that this is the case, as it reddens in the morning and evening. And the reason that we do not see the red color all day is because our eyesight is not strong and we cannot discern the redness of the sun.

So, is the sun red?

The Gemara raises an objection to this claim: With regard to a verse that speaks of leprosy: “And, behold, if its appearance is deeper than the skin” (Leviticus 13:30), the Sages explain: This means that it is like the appearance of the sun, which is deeper than the shadow. But there, leprosy is white and yet it is likened to the sun. The Gemara answers: There, it means that it has an appearance like the sun in certain respects, but it is not like the appearance of the sun in all respects. It is like the appearance of the sun in that it is deeper than the shadow, and it is not entirely like the appearance of the sun, as there the leprous spot is white, and here the sun is red.

So, the Gemara says that maybe, since leprosy is likened to the sun – you might think that just as a leprous wound is white, so too the sun is white. But no! It’s like leprosy in that you see the surface but there is more going on underneath the surface.

(Already a great gem – it’s about what’s going on under the surface. But there’s more!)

Maybe it is white . . . The Gemara asks: And according to that which entered our mind initially, that the sun is white, doesn’t it redden in the morning and evening? The Gemara answers: In the morning it becomes red as it passes over the site of the roses of the Garden of Eden, whose reflections give the light a red hue. In the evening the sun turns red because it passes over the entrance of Gehenna, whose fires redden the light.

Wow! The sun looks red because it is shining through either the roses of the garden of Eden, or through the fires of hell.

Hello rose colored glasses!

We, modern science learning folk, know that the sun is a prism of light, the sky looks blue and sun beams appear white or yellow, because of the refraction of light. (It’s also why we see rainbows after rain. . . or because of Noah.) This refraction is true of how we see the entire world.

With what lens are we viewing the world? What happens to us? Through the rose colored glasses of Eden – making us see everything as wonderful? A blessing? Or through the fiery lens of Gehenna, hell?

Be careful what lens you bring to the world. That becomes how you experience reality.

Today’s daf reminds me of the marvel of trees. They have entire lives we don’t see on the surface. We established that, if a person purchases three trees that are between 4-16 cubits apart from one another, the purchaser also gets the land created by that triangle of trees. But, Rabbi Yirmeya asks a question which shows he knows a thing or two about trees:

Rabbi Yirmeya raises a dilemma: If the owner of the field sold to someone three branches that grew from one tree, and its trunk was covered with earth so that the branches appeared to be three separate trees, what is the halakha? Are they considered three trees, which would mean that their owner acquires the ground between them?

After some discussion, the commentary says that: It can be inferred from this mishna that the different branches of a tree are considered separate entities when the trunk is covered by earth, provided the required distance between them is maintained.

Yes, sometimes what appears to be multiple trees is really just one! In 1970, Burton Barnes saw a grove of Quaking aspen male trees. He realized that the root system contained approximately 47,000 stems that form the tree grove. He declared it to be one giant organism! One tree that looks like a forest.

What a beautiful metaphor for the Jewish people, and for humanity. We think that we are individuals and yet we are connected by a root system that links us all to be one.

We are one.

“Penny’s Quilt” Showing a Pando tree which appears to be a forest. https://art1016.blogspot.com/2012/02/pennys-quilt.html

Deuteronomy 26 gives a formula for bringing first fruits from the harvest to the Priest in the Temple where you would recite verses from the Torah that says, in summary, my father was a fugitive Aramean, how we went down to Egypt, God freed us, and now we are bringing fruits from the Promised land.

The daf has been debating who says these verses. Is it anyone who brings first fruits or do you have to own the land? What if the landowner sent an agent? What if he dies on the way? Then it is suggested that maybe you should bring the fruits and not recite the verse if you don’t own the land or if you are unsure. And so we get today’s gem:

Rav Aḥa, son of Rav Avya, said to Rav Ashi: Since the passage is composed of verses, let him read them.

Love this. What’s the big deal? The bringer is just quoting Torah verses. Is it ever bad to quote Torah? Err on the side of inclusion.

Rav Ashi said to him: The problem is due to the fact that this practice has the appearance of falsehood, because he issues a declaration before God that is possibly untrue, as he might not own the ground.

Wow! What’s the big deal? It looks as though he is lying. There is so much to unpack here. It makes me question so much or what we say. I believe a lot of Jews who study and chant Torah might not believe that those verses are true in terms of historical accuracy (but perhaps still true in that its holy wisdom that is true about life and the human situation). And what about when we pray? Maimonides believed much of the imagery we use for God is metaphor, not literally true. Does that make his prayers lies?

But even more that these conundrums, I love this because of the concern it shows for truth. We don’t even want the appearance of lies. And that is a Jewish value I wish was held by all right about now when telling lies has become defended as speaking “my truth” or “alternative facts.”

I love questions when I am teaching a class. It means people are engaged, thinking, or that they need background and I have assumed knowledge that wasn’t fair. It’s helpful and wonderful. But there are some questions I don’t like. And apparently I am not the first rabbi to not like certain kinds of questions.

Rabbi Shimon ben Elyakim said to Rabbi Elazar: What is the rationale of Rabbi Meir that in the case of one tree, an individual is obligated to bring first fruits but does not recite the passage, and what is the rationale of the Rabbis that in the case of two trees, an individual is obligated to bring the first fruits but does not recite the passage? If one owns the ground and is obligated to bring the first fruits to the Temple, he should also recite the passage of thanks. If he does not own the ground and therefore is not obligated to recite the passage, why does he bring the first fruits to the Temple? Rabbi Elazar said to Rabbi Shimon ben Elyakim: Do you ask me publicly, in the study hall, about a matter for which the early Sages did not give a reason, in order to embarrass me? 

Wow! Rabbi Elazar basically says – “why are you asking? You know I don’t know the answer. The Sages didn’t say, we only know that’s what the law is, not why. So, are you asking only to embarrass me? Is that why you did it in front of a group? So I would look dumb in front of them?!“

Questions that are asked, not out of genuine curiosity, but in order to embarrass the teacher, or get a laugh out of the class – those are not good questions.

But the others… they are what learning is all about.

Comparing the righteous to trees!!

Didn’t Rabbi Ḥiyya bar Lulyani teach: What is the meaning of that which is written: “The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree; he shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon” (Psalms 92:13)? If “palm tree” is stated, why is “cedar” stated? And if “cedar” is stated, why is “palm tree” stated? What is added by this double comparison? Rabbi Ḥiyya bar Lulyani explains: Had the verse stated only “cedar” and had not stated “palm tree,” I would have said that just as a cedar does not produce fruit, so too, a righteous person does not produce fruit, i.e., he will have no reward in the World-to-Come. Therefore, it is stated: “Palm tree,” which is a fruit-bearing tree. And had the verse stated only “palm tree” and had not stated “cedar,” I would have said that just as with regard to a palm tree its trunk does not replenish itself after being cut down, so too, in the case of a righteous person, his trunk does not replenish itself, i.e., he will be unable to recover from misfortune. There-fore, it is stated: “Cedar,” to indicate that just as the trunk of the cedar replenishes itself, so too, the righteous will thrive again

May you have deep replenishing roots and bear fruit!

Ever “fall off the wagon”? While that usually refers to alcohol, so many of us make goals/resolutions/promises to be and do better only to relapse. Today’s daf reminds us that serving Torah, or something bigger than ourselves can help us stay in track.

When Rav Dimi came from Eretz Yisrael to Babylonia, he said that Rabbi Yonatan says: Anyone who separates himself from the matters of Torah falls into Gehenna.

We may not go straight to hell, but often our goals and aspirations seem to. What should we do? Get back in track and use a holy inspiration for motivation.

Beautiful lessons on our daf all from parables. It’s a little tough to follow (I will paste text below) but the message is that we should do the right thing in this world, any loss is nothing compared to the reward we will receive in the world to come (afterlife). That we shouldn’t listen to our evil inclination and that arrogance is the path to hell.

The Gemara cites a related discussion. Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman says that Rabbi Yoḥanan says: What is the meaning of that which is written: “Therefore they that speak in parables [hamoshlim] say: Come to Heshbon! Let the city [ir] of Sihon be built and established! For a fire is gone out of Heshbon, a flame from the city of Sihon; it has devoured Ar of Moab, the lords of the high places of Arnon” (Numbers 21:27–28)? The Gemara interprets these verses homiletically. “Hamoshlim”; these are the people who rule over [hamoshlim] their evil inclination. They will say: “Come to Heshbon,” meaning: Come and let us calculate the account of [ḥeshbono] the world, i.e., the financial lossincurred by the fulfillment of a mitzva in contrast to its reward, and the reward for committing a transgression, i.e., the pleasure and gain received, in contrast to the loss it entails. “Let it be built and established” means that if youmake this calculation, you will be built in this world and you will be established in the World-to-Come. The phrase “city [ir] of Sihon” means that if a person fashions himself like this young donkey [ayir] that follows after pleasant talk [siḥa], i.e., if one is easily tempted to listen to his inclination, what is written after it? “For a fire is gone out of Heshbon…it has devoured,” i.e., a fire will go out from those who calculate the effect of their deeds in the world, and will consume those who do not calculate and examine their ways but instead do as they please. “The lords of the high places of Arnon”; this is referring to the arrogant. As the Master says: Every person who has arrogance in him will fall into Gehenna.