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

Do the ends justify the means? Do they need to?

On today’s daf, there is a discussion of what to do if you find a wandering animal and you’re near Jerusalem. The rabbis assume it was likely designated as a sacrifice and therefor needs to be redeemed. R. Oshaya teaches that according to R. Meir if one finds an animal near Jerusalem he can redeem it and use the money to buy a peace-offering.

Rabbi Yoḥanan wondered about Rabbi Oshaya’s explanation of the mishna: And does one say to a person: Arise and sin in order that you may gain?

An animal designated to be sacrificed cannot be redeemed unless it has become flawed and can no longer be sacrificed. Even though he (the finder) will have the merit of donating two sacrifices in its place, and thereby remedy the situation, we do not generally tell people to sin even if the sin will eventually result in merit.

Not super excited about the animal exchange, but I love this line: And does one say to a person: Arise and sin in order that you may gain?

I feel like our world has become so corrupt that people do say this. I watch people who are supposed to represent the best interests of the American people make deals that benefit themselves, allow companies to persuade their votes. . . the arise and sin in order to gain.

And I think of the Torah line: tzedek tzedek tirdof, justice justice shall you pursue, and one of the rabbinic answers to the question of why is tzedek repeated? because you need just ends as well as just means.

And I maybe don’t care that much about a hypothetical wandering cow being redeemed – but I do care about how upsetting it is that we continue to find ways to exploit situations instead of just doing the right thing.

A person’s livelihood often makes us feel a certain way about them. We are surprised then when the cardiologist is an overweight smoker (just for example!). Today’s daf is one of those. We might assume that priests behave better than the rest of us. But that’s not the picture:

Rava said: But isn’t it taught in a baraita in accordance with the opinion of Rav? But isn’t it taught in a baraita (Tosefta, Sota 13:7): When the priests receive their portion of the shewbread each week, the modest ones withdraw their hands and do not take it, and the gluttons receive all the shares of the bread. This indicates that offerings may be apportioned according to the priests’ wishes.

So, he assumes that the modest priests just let the other priests eat first and that they end up with nothing since the “gluttons” take their share. Already, this is surpising behavior for a priest. You would think it would be fair! But it gets worse:

The Gemara rejects this: What is the meaning of receive the shares? It does not mean that they exchange one portion for another with halakhic sanction; it means that they would snatch their colleagues’ portions, as it teaches in the latter clause of that same baraita: An incident occurred involving one who snatched his share and his colleague’s share, and they called him ben Ḥamtzan, son of the snatcher, until the day he died.

So, these gluttons would actually snatch the food before their colleagues could grab what was due to them!

This reminds me of my dad. He always ate in a hurry – like the food was going to run out. That’s because he grew up in a house where, if you didn’t eat fast, you didn’t eat.

The gem here is that none of us are perfect, no matter our title. And, if you snooze you lose.

My son has struggled to sleep in the past. Why? He’s scared. Or what? Aliens. IT is very hard to be compassionate when you’re tired when your child is scared of something that isn’t going to happen. Environmental catastrophe, school shooters, losing civil rights, book burnings, the rise of white nationalism – now that is stuff to be scared of – but aliens?

So, I have some compassion for Rabbi Yehuda on our daf today.

The Sages taught: After the death of Rabbi Meir, Rabbi Yehuda said to his students: Do not let the students of Rabbi Meir enter here into our house of study, because they are vexatious [kanteranim]. And they do not come to study Torah, but rather they come to overwhelm me with halakhot.

Rabbi Yehudah is not a fan of Rabbi Meir’s teaching style and doesn’t want his students to come to his yeshivah and annoy him. Why are they so annoying? They like to argue about what the law is in situations that would never happen. We get an example when one sneaks into Rabbi Yehudah’s study hall:

Sumakhos, a student of Rabbi Meir, pushed and entered anyway. He said to them: This is what Rabbi Meir taught me: With regard to a priest who betroths a woman with his portion of the offerings, whether he did so with offerings of the most sacred order or whether he used offerings of lesser sanctity, he has not betrothed her.

This sneaky student says that Rabbi Meir states that a priest cannot betroth a woman with his sacrificial portion. Now we see why this is so annoying to Rabbi Yehudah.

Upon hearing this, Rabbi Yehuda became angry with his students. He said to them: Didn’t I say this to you: Do not let the students of Rabbi Meir enter here into our house of study, because they are vexatious? And they do not come to study Torah, but rather they come to overwhelm me with halakhot. Rabbi Yehuda explained his objection to the statement of Rabbi Meir: This halakha is not relevant, as from where would a woman appear in the Temple courtyard? Women may not enter the area of the Temple courtyard where the priests eat the offerings of the most sacred order, so there is no reason to address an impossible scenario.

Why rule against an impossible situation? Why waste everyone’s time?

Ah. It seems as though the world still has many of Rabbi Meir’s students in it. Worrying about things that will never happen and spending all their energy on things that don’t matter.

And still. There are so many things that could use our attention. Why not use our energy on them?

I know that parents often call their kids by their siblings’ names (I do this sometimes myself). Hey, I know that some parents call their kids by their dogs’ names! But I find it hard to believe the following scenario on the daf where a dad betroths his daughter . . . and then forgets which daughter he betrothed! But the rabbis want to know – what do we do when this happens?

In the case of one who betroths his daughter to a man without specification, i.e., without specifying which daughter he meant, the grown women are not included among those who might be betrothed, since he does not have the right to betroth them.

Okay, so, let’s say this guy has a bunch of daughters, well, he does not have permission to betroth his adult daughters as now it’s up to them. Great! We have (maybe) eliminated some options. Or did we?

The Gemara answers: With what are we dealing here? It is a situation where his adult daughter designated him as her agent to betroth her.

Oops! Okay, now we have no idea who is betrothed because the daughter said, “Hey Dad, find me a husband!”

Now the gem, because from all this confusion we get a nice rule of thumb.

Lest you say that when he accepts betrothal from someone on behalf of his daughter without further specification he accepts it with her in mind, and he intended to betroth her rather than his minor daughter, the mishna therefore teaches us that a person does not set aside something from which he has benefit, e.g., the betrothal of his minor daughter, where he keeps the betrothal money, in favor of something from which he has no benefit, e.g., the betrothal of his adult daughter, where she keeps the betrothal money.

So, when in doubt, assume the dad is acting in his own self-interest (which is to marry off the minor daughter from whose marriage he benefits financially). Great! So, we know who he meant. Or do we?

The Gemara raises a difficulty: Aren’t we also dealing with a case where the adult daughter said to him: When you betroth me, my betrothal money is for you? Accordingly, he derives benefit from her betrothal as well.

Oy! So, how do we know who is engaged?

The Gemara explains: Even so, the father would not have intended to betroth his adult daughter, since a person does not set aside a mitzva that is incumbent upon him, e.g., the betrothal of his minor daughter, and perform a mitzva that is not incumbent upon him, e.g., the betrothal of his adult daughter.

And there is our gem. Not the dad who can’t keep his daughters straight and is trying to benefit from them financially. The gem is that mitzvot that are our responsibility should not be put aside in order to do mitzvot that are NOT our responsibility.

That’s a big rule! What are the mitzvot that are uniquely mine to do? That no one will do if I don’t? Am I prioritizing them or putting other things that are not mine to hold first?

Another classic set up for a dramatic scene of misunderstanding and heartache:

The Gemara discusses a related topic: Rav Aḥa bar Rav Huna inquired of Rava: If a woman’s marriage contract was established, i.e., seen, by people in the marketplace, what is the halakha; is she assumed to be married? Rava said to him: And should we establish her as a married woman because a marriage contract was established in the marketplace? Since a marriage contract can be written by a man even before betrothal and without the woman’s consent, its existence does not prove that she is married. The Gemara asks: What conclusion was reached about it? The Gemara answers: Rav Ashi says: In a place where men first betroth women and afterward write a marriage contract, we are concerned that he had betrothed her; but in a place where they write the marriage contract first and afterward betroth women, we are not concerned.

I love this. We see a guy carrying a Ketubah he just bought and Rav Aha bar Rav Huna wants to know – is she really married?

I picture him pining away for this woman. He wants to talk to her but he knows that this other guy has been courting her. And now, here he is, in the shuk, buying a ketubah! He is heart-broken. Did he lose his chance? He goes and asks his teacher Rava.

I can see this playing out in so many scenarios. A guy has a crush on a girl but sees another guy bringing her a dozen roses and assumes they are together. Or maybe there is a post on social media of the crush with another person . . . whatever it is – we can imagine both the heart ache and that it could all just be a misunderstanding.

The daf does warn us away form making assumptions. So, what should you do if you think your crush may be taken? Ask.

I can play guitar. I got my first guitar at 9 years old, my mom showed me how to play three chords. Now, I can play all the chords (minus some bar chords) but I still have never had any formal lessons. I cannot just listen and accompany someone. I cannot noodle. I cannot easily pick a tune. So, can I call myself a guitar player?

Our daf debates what it means to define yourself as a Torah scholar (and later, a student, a sage, a strongman, a wealthy man). We have learned that you cannot mislead someone when you propose to marry them. But what constitutes misleading?

The Sages taught: If one said to a woman: Be betrothed to me on the condition that I am literate with regard to the Torah, once he has read three verses in the synagogue she is betrothed. Rabbi Yehuda says that she is not betrothed until he reads and translates the verses.

Already, a bit of disagreement. But I love what comes next:

Who’s a student of Torah?

If a man says to a woman: Be betrothed to me on the condition that I am a student of Torah, one does not say that he must be a student who is scholarly like Shimon ben Azzai or like Shimon ben Zoma, who were called students despite their great knowledge, as they were never ordained. Rather, it means anyone who, when he is asked one matter in any topic of his studies, responds appropriately and can say what he has learned, and this suffices even if his statement was in the tractate of Kalla.

Who’s a scholar?

Similarly, if a man says to a woman: Be betrothed to me on the condition that I am a scholar, one does not say that he must be like the scholars of Yavne, like Rabbi Akiva and his colleagues. Rather, it is referring to anyone who, when he is asked about a matter of wisdom on any topic related to the Torah, responds appropriately and can say what he has learned.

Who’s strong?

If a man says to a woman: Be betrothed to me on the condition that I am strong, one does not say that he must be as strong as Abner ben Ner, King Saul’s cousin and general, or as strong as Joab ben Zeruiah, King David’s nephew and general. Rather, it means anyone of whom others are afraid due to his strength.

Who’s rich?

If a man says to a woman: Be betrothed to me on the condition that I am wealthy, one does not say he must be as wealthy as Rabbi Elazar ben Ḥarsom or as wealthy as Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya, but rather it can refer to anyone who is honored by the members of his town due to his wealth.

Who’s righteous?

If one says to a woman: Be betrothed to me on the condition that I am a righteous man, then even if he was a completely wicked man she is betrothed, as perhaps in the meantime he had thoughts of repentance in his mind and is now righteous.

Who’s wicked?

Similarly, if one says to a woman: Be betrothed to me on the condition that I am a wicked man, then even if he was a completely righteous man she is betrothed, as perhaps he had thoughts of idol worship in his mind, a serious sin that would earn him the label of wicked.

I love this. I love the lesson to be honest and yet – you don’t have to be the most of a particular description in order to use that title. You don’t have to be as wise as Solomon to be wise or as rich as Jeff Bezos to be rich.

As for myself and the guitar – I can sing and play anything as long as I have the music. But I still would never say that I am a guitar player. I can just play the guitar.

A fabulous new Mishna on the second side of our daf today. . . and one that relates to the movie Coming to America:

MISHNA: If a man said to a woman: Be betrothed to me with this cup of wine, and it was found to be a cup of honey; or if he said: With this cup of honey, and it was found to be a cup of wine; or if he said: With this dinar made of silver, and it was found to be made of gold; or if he said: With this dinar made of gold, and it was found to be made of silver; or if he said: On the condition that I am wealthy, and he was found to be poor; or if he said: On the condition that I am poor, and he was found to be wealthy, she is not betrothed in any of these cases. Rabbi Shimon says: If he misled her to her advantage by giving her something better than what he stated, or if his status was greater than he claimed, she is betrothed.

I love this. This teaches that honest is the most important thing in a relationship. Don’t start it off on a lie! The only disagreement between the Mishna and Rabbi Shimon is that Rabbi Shimon thinks that, if the guy is actually more wealthy than the woman assumed, then the proposal still holds, but the Mishna disagrees.

Now, I can’t help but think of Coming to America, where Eddie Murphy plays a prince trying to find a bride who loves him for himself and not for his wealth. So, where do you find a queen? In Queens! I also think of a short-lived reality dating show, Mystery Millionaire, where wealthy singles pretend to be “common folk” and find love. The difference? In both the movie and the reality TV show, the woman who was deceived is initially upset. In the movie version – she comes around and marries him anyway and we get a happy ending. In the reality version? The women are pissed they’ve been lied to and it doesn’t work out. Why? Because they DON’T CARE ABOUT MONEY, they care about honesty – and these people were not honest.

The message is clear, from our daf to this reality experiment – be honest with who you are and what you bring. Relationships cannot survive without honesty.

So, the question on today’s daf is, if I loaned a woman money, can I tell her to keep it as long as she marries me?

Rav says: With regard to one who betroths a woman with a loan, she is not betrothed, since a loan is given to be spent. Consequently, from the moment the money is lent it no longer belongs to the lender, and he cannot betroth a woman with it.

Why? When the man originally gave the money to the woman as a loan, he gave it to her to spend מִלְוָה לְהוֹצָאָה נִיתְּנָה and it became her money (and not his money that is in her possession).

Why do I like this? Because it seems our rabbis are trying to protect women from sketchy men. I can imagine a man saying, “oh, you can’t pay me back? I have a way for you to work off this debt.” Our rabbis are having none of it. You can’t trap a woman into marrying you.

We learned yesterday that you should not propose with vegetables. But apparently proposing with a date (the fruit) is fine – as long as it’s worth at least one perutah. Now the Gemara get’s into a strange situation. What if he gives her a date worth a perutah but also makes the proposal based on another date or two (already confusing). What happens after she eats that first date? Is the betrothed? Or does she need to eat all of them? So this sets up a situation. The daf shevui commentary is helpful. “If the first date is worth a perutah, and he keeps giving her dates, the betrothal is not complete until he gives her the last date. The rabbis view the first dates as a loan, because were he to retract his offer, she would have to give the date back. By the time she is betrothed, this date is gone and he is saying to her—if you become betrothed to me, you do not need to give me the loan back. But then this is betrothal through forgiving a loan, and this is not a valid form of kiddushin.”

First, I always love it when we ask to borrow something we never intend to return, like food. He is “loaning” her a date that she has already eaten and then trying to claim that date as part of his proposal. Oy. But the real gem is how hard this is to follow – not just for us the readers, but for Rabbi Yohanan who says a fabulous line:

Rabbi Yoḥanan says: There is a table, and there is meat, and there is a knife, and we have nothing to eat.

I love this! He is saying everything in the mishna is explicit yet we cannot explain it. It’s a true conundrum.

This also reminds me of the parable of the long spoons (the being surrounded by food and being unable to eat). It’s said to come from Rabbi Haim of Romshishok.

One day a man said to God, “God, I would like to know what Heaven and Hell are like.”

God showed the man two doors. Inside the first one, in the middle of the room, was a large round table with a large pot of vegetable stew. It smelled delicious and made the man’s mouth water, but the people sitting around the table were thin and sickly. They appeared to be famished. They were holding spoons with very long handles and each found it possible to reach into the pot of stew and take a spoonful, but because the handle was longer than their arms, they could not get the spoons back into their mouths.

The man shuddered at the sight of their misery and suffering. God said, “You have seen Hell.”

Behind the second door, the room appeared exactly the same. There was the large round table with the large pot of wonderful vegetable stew that made the man’s mouth water. The people had the same long-handled spoons, but they were well nourished and plump, laughing and talking.

The man said, “I don’t understand.”

God smiled. It is simple, he said, Love only requires one skill. These people learned early on to share and feed one another. While the greedy only think of themselves…

The first gem is how I imagine a lot of pre-arranged engagements might have happened back in the day.

The Gemara relates: There were these two people that were sitting and drinking wine under poplar trees [tzifei] in Babylonia. One of them took a cup of wine and gave it to his friend. He said: Betroth for me your daughter to my son by receiving this cup of wine. Ravina says: Even according to the one who says that in the case of a minor girl who became betrothed without her father’s consent, we are concerned that perhaps the father desired the betrothal, and we do not say that perhaps the son desired the betrothal.

So, the two dads are drinking and want to set

. . . The Gemara relates: There was a certain man who betrothed a minor girl without her father’s consent with a bundle of vegetables in the marketplace. Ravina says: Even according to the one who says that when a minor becomes betrothed without her father’s consent we are concerned that perhaps the father desired the betrothal, this matter applies only if the man betrothed her in a dignified manner. But as the betrothal in this case was done in a degrading manner, there is no concern. Rav Aḥa of Difti said to Ravina: What was the degradation in this manner of betrothal? Was the degradation from the fact that he used vegetables, or was the degradation due to the betrothal having been performed in the marketplace? The practical difference concerns cases where one betrothed a minor girl with money in the marketplace, or where one betrothed a minor girl with a bundle of vegetables in a house. What is the halakha? Ravina said to him: Both this and that, i.e., each of them is considered a degrading manner.

So, don’t propose at Publix and don’t use a carrot. Things you might think there is no need to say. But, clearly, if they said it, then it was something that happened. (Wrong kind of carrot guy.)