Bikkur Cholim — BT Shabbat 12b — #109

Rabbah b. Bar Chanah said, “When we followed R. Elazar to inquire after a sick person, sometimes he would say to him, [in Hebrew] ‘May the Omnipresent remember you for peace.’ At other times, he said, [in Aramaic] ‘May the Merciful One remember you for peace.’” But how could he do this [i.e., pray in Aramaic]? Did not Rav Yehudah say, “One should never petition for his needs in Aramaic,” and R. Yochanan say, “If one petitions for his needs in Aramaic, the Ministering Angels do not heed him because they do not understand Aramaic”? A sick person is different, because the Shekhinah (Divine Presence) is with him, for R. Anan said in Rav's name, “Whence do we know the Shekhinah helps the sick? As it is written, Adonai will sustain him on the sickbed (Psalm 41:4).” It was also taught in a baraita: One who visits the sick should not sit on the bed or on a chair; he should wrap himself and sit in front of him [on the floor] because the Shekhinah is above the sick person’s head, as it is said, Adonai will sustain him on the sickbed. And Rava said Ravin said, “Whence do we know the Holy Blessed One sustains the sick? Because it is said, Adonai will sustain him on the sickbed.”

INTRODUCTION

Parshat Vayera opens, “Adonai appeared to [Abraham] by the terebinths of Mamre… Looking up, he saw three men standing near him.” Midrash explains that God visited Abraham as he recovered from his circumcision (recounted in verses immediately prior to this) and on God’s model, they learned bikkur cholim, the mitzvah of visiting the sick. This week’s TMT is passage from tractate Shabbat concerning bikkur cholim

In the midst of a conversation about the Mishnah’s prohibition (on 11a) against searching one’s garments for vermin or read by lamplight on shabbat evening, the Gemara takes an interesting turn to discuss bikkur cholim (visiting the sick) on shabbat. The underlying concern is that visiting the sick may cause the visitor to suffer; while visiting is permitted on shabbat, any suffering induced conflicts with oneg shabbat—shabbat is ideally a “day of delight.” The discussion of bikkur cholim, however, does not mention any possible conflict with shabbat. Rather, it goes in a most unexpected direction.

COMMENTARY

Rabbah b. Bar Chanah recounts that when R. Elazar visited the sick, he sometimes prayed in Hebrew and other times in Aramaic, presumably based on which language the sick person understood. The anonymous narrator, however, is surprised that R. Elazar ever couched a prayer for recovery from illness in Aramaic because Rav Yehudah taught that petitionary prayers should never be made in Aramaic and R. Yochanan taught that prayers for the ill in Aramaic are ineffectual because “the Ministering Angels” don’t understand Aramaic and therefore cannot respond. At first glance, the claim that the Ministering Angels are conversant in some languages  but not others may seem humorous, but upon further reflection, this statement is both confounding and troubling. Do we not pray directly to God? Are the Ministering Angels intermediaries? Commentators through the ages have twisted themselves in knots to explain this passage, including: angels literally don’t know Aramaic; Aramaic is an inferior language; angels do not convey prayers to God but rather carry out God’s will in response to prayers uttered to God in any language (if so, the language of prayer should be a moot point, no?); those who pray in Aramaic do so with less kavanah (intention) than if they used Hebrew (really?). It truly seems that at least some sages believed the Ministering Angels played an intermediary role conveying our prayers to God. 

The Gemara resolves the concern by asserting that the Shekhinah (God’s Divine Presence) is aware of sick people and is present for them. R. Anan supplies a proof text he learned from Rav: Psalm 41:4 assures us that “Adonai will sustain him on the sickbed.” In addition to resolving the problem created by the presumption that the Ministering Angels act as intermediaries to God, I imagine that the assertion that God is nearby and present to people who are sick is exceptionally comforting, particularly in a world that offers little effective medical care and few curative pharmaceuticals, let alone medicines to relieve pain.

The Hebrew term in Psalm 41:4 (samech-ayin-daled), here translated “sustain,” has a wide range of meanings. It connotes “support,” “assist,” “nurse (i.e., take care of),” and “feed.” The verse (Psalm 41:4) is cited twice more. It is mentioned in a baraita to explain why one should sit on the floor rather than on the bed or a chair when visiting the sick. If the Divine Presence is understood to be hovering above the patient’s head, a visitor who sits on the bed or on a chair is above the Shekhinah; in God’s presence, humility is required. Psalm 41:4 is employed a third time by Rava in the name of Ravin, to prove that God sustains those who are sick, suggesting that God feeds or nourishes those who are sick. 

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. Does it matter what language one uses to pray? Can prayer be expressed without formal language, without words?
2. When you visit one who is sick, where do you sit? What do you consider when choosing where to sit (e.g., the presence of the Shekhinah, the nature of your relationship with the sick person, the physical and/or emotional needs of the person you’re visiting, the possibility of contagion)?
3. The third mention of Psalm 41:4 seems to suggest that God provides food to nourish the sick. Yet the Shulchan Aruch (YD 335:8) asserts that one of the primary purposes in visiting the sick is to ascertain their needs and make arrangements for fulfilling them. This would naturally include food. How do you understand the Gemara’s claim here? Is there possibly a suggestion here that those who bring food to the home of the sick are working as God’s hands?

Udder Confusion — BT Chullin 109b-110a — #108

Yalta said to Rav Nachman, “For anything the Merciful One prohibited to us, [God] permitted something similar: [God] prohibited blood but permitted [eating] liver; not a menstruant, but the blood of purity; not fat of a domesticated animal, but fat of an undomesticated animal; not pork but the brain of a shibuta fish; not giruta [a non-kosher fish], but tongue of a fish; not the wife of another man, but a divorcee during [her previous] husband’s lifetime; not one’s brother’s wife, but levirate marriage; not a gentile woman, but a beautiful [captive of war] woman. I wish to eat meat [cooked] in milk.” Rav Nachman told [his] cooks, “Roast udders on a spit for her.” But didn’t we learn [in the mishnah] “The udder must be cut open”? That is only with regard to [cooking in] a pot [not roasting]. Isn’t it taught [in a previously cited baraita]: [An udder] cooked [in its milk is permitted]—after the fact, but not from the start? The same is true even from the start because [the tanna of the baraita] uses this language because he wants to teach in the latter clause: “A stomach cooked with milk” is prohibited. There, it may not [be eaten] even after the fact. [The tanna]  taught the first clause [this way], as well: [An udder] cooked [in its milk is permitted].

INTRODUCTION

The story above concerns a debate about an act done intentionally that might be interpreted to violate the separation of meat and dairy foods, which is a pillar of kashrut. According to halakhah, there are acts that are forbidden whether done intentionally or inadvertently. Other acts are impermissible from the start (i.e., if performed intentionally) but after the fact (if done inadvertently) they are permissible. For example: if parve food, such as rice or lentils, is cooked in a clean meat pot, may it be served with dairy food? Joseph Karo (16th century), author of the Shulchan Arukh, wrote that it may, but only if the mistake were discovered after the fact. However, Karo himself later cited Rabbeinu Yerucham (14th century) who permitted parve food intentionally cooked (“from the start”) in a meat pot to be served with a dairy meal. Rav Nachman contrives a way to fulfill the wish of his wife Yalta to taste meat and milk together.

COMMENTARY

Yalta is the wife of Rav Nachman, the wealthy and powerful exilarch of the Jewish community in Babylonia. Yalta is mentioned several times in the Babylonian Talmud. She is consistently presented as clever, educated, and the recipient of her husband’s efforts to please her. This story, more than any other, brings all these together. 

Yalta makes a fascinating argument concerning God’s prohibitions and then marshals a clever array of facts to back it up. She claims: for everything God forbids, there is something similar permitted as compensation. She supplies eight examples: four concern food, one concerns sexual intimacy, and three concern sexual partners. In that order (which is not identical with the order presented in the Gemara): Torah forbids the consumption of blood (Lev. 17:13-14) but permits liver, which retains the taste of blood. Fat of domesticated animals is impermissible (Lev. 7:23), but the fat of undomesticated animals is not proscribed. Pork is forbidden (Lev. 11:3) but the brain of a shibuta fish, which tastes like pork, is permitted. Torah’s standards for fish (fins and scales) rules out the giruta, but the tongues of permitted fish taste much the same. Sexual intercourse with a niddah (menstruant) is forbidden (Lev. 18:19, 20:18) but there are times when blood flow (“blood of purity”) does not make sexual intimacy impermissible. Concerning sexual partners, sexual intercourse with a married woman is adultery (Ex. 20:13, Dt. 5:17) but marriage to a divorcee, even while her previous husband is alive, is permitted (presumably this carries a hint of the thrill of adultery). A man may not have sex with his brother’s wife (Lev. 18:16), yet the law of levirate marriage (Dt. 25:5-10) can sometimes require a man to marry his brother’s widow. Marriage to a non-Jew is forbidden (Dt. 7:3), yet is effectively permitted when the woman is taken captive in war (Dt. 21:10-14). Having asserted that there is always an “exception to the rule,” if one is clever enougsh to recognize it, Yalta proclaims her desire to taste milk and meat together. Rav Nachman, who wishes to please her, orders his cooks to roast an udder, presumably because the udder retains some of the milk it produced.

The Gemara now discusses whether Rav Nachman’s instructions to his cooks—intentionally planning to combine milk and meat from the start—delegitimizes the outcome. The mishnah preceding the story said: “The udder must be cut open and emptied of its milk. If he did not cut it open, he has not transgressed. The heart must be cut open and emptied of its blood. If he did not cut it open, he has not transgressed.” It seems clear enough that only milk expressed from a living animal counts as milk that may not be combined with meat. However, in the Gemara that follows, the Rabbis compare the case of the udder and the heart, claiming that the heart must be cut open even after cooking to remove the blood because blood may not be eaten under all circumstances, unlike milk which is permissible to consume. Prior to our story, the Rabbis also contrasted the case of the udder with that of the stomach of a nursing calf. While the latter is always forbidden—even after the fact—the udder is permissible before or after the fact. Thus, Rav Nachman’s stratagem to combine the udder (flesh) with its milk for Yalta is permissible.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. In Yalta’s novel view, God balances prohibitions with corresponding permissions. What insights can you derive from this? Does it have implications for how authorities or parents make rules?
2. Having argued that God is as much about permission and prohibition, Yalta trusts Rav Nachman to find a way for her to taste milk and meat together. It would have been easier for him to say, “Sorry, not allowed.” Instead, he figured out a way to provide what she wanted. How is this a model for marital (and other) relationships?
3. Many people find fulfillment in upholding religious strictures. Others feel suffocated by them. Does this story speak to those in the latter group? If so, how?

Life in the Ark — BT Sanhedrin 108b — #107

[Every animal, every creeping thing, and every bird, everything that stirs on earth] emerged from the ark by families (Genesis 6:18). R. Yochanan said, “With their families, not by themselves.” R. Chana bar Bizna said, “Eliezer said to Shem the Great, ‘It is written, emerged from the ark by families. You yourselves, where were you?” [Shem] said to [Eliezer], “We had great trouble in the ark. Animals that were accustomed to being fed by day, we fed by day. Those normally fed at night, we fed at night. My father did not know what the zikita ate. One day he was sitting and cutting up a pomegranate when a worm dropped out of it [and the zikita] ate it. From then on, he mashed bran [in water] and when it became wormy, [the zikita] ate [the worms]. The lion developed a fever that sustained it—for Rav said: Fever sustains no less than six [days] and no more than twelve [days]. [Concerning] the avarshinah, Father found it lying in the hold of the ark. He said to it, ‘Don’t you want food?’ It said to him, ‘I saw that you were busy so I said [to myself] that I would not trouble you.’ He said to it, ‘May it be [God’s] will that you never die.’” As it is written, I said I would end my days in the nest but be as long-lived as the phoenix (Job 29:18).

INTRODUCTION

Graphic representations of the Ark generally depict the animals standing on deck—the ark had no deck—and smiling like people embarking on a pleasure cruise (see graphic on the right). However, there is nothing in the Torah’s portrayal of the Noah story to suggest this. With thousands upon thousands of creatures shut up in the ark the conditions inside must have been stifling and miserable. Imagine only eight people to feed and care for them all. All this amidst a genocidal hurricane covering the earth. Why would anyone smile? The Rabbis wondered what it must have been like in the ark and what would have been required to sustain life for the year they were all shut in before they finally disembarked.

COMMENTARY

The Rabbis use Genesis 6:18 as a launching pad because the expression l’mish’p’chotei’hem (lit. by families) can be understood “according to their kind.” This is a reminder that each species lives in a unique manner: its habits of eating, sleeping, hunting, etc. The gist of R. Yochanan’s comment is: If, after the animals emerged from the ark they lived according to their natural ways (“by families”), does that imply that for the year spent in the ark, they did not? And if they did not, how could that be, since one cannot simply

change the natural life patterns of animals without doing them grave damage. The best way to answer this question is by asking an eye witness, which R. Chana bar Bizna does midrashically by recounting that Eliezer, the servant of Abraham, asked Noah’s son Shem—who was onboard the ark—“You yourselves [i.e., the eight humans], where were you [i.e., how did you manage things during that year afloat]?”

Shem then provides an account of life on the ark. His first point: It wasn’t easy. First problem: feeding schedules were difficult because some animals are diurnal and some are nocturnal, and all were to be fed according to their biological needs. Therefore, the people needed to adjust to the animals’ schedules. Second problem: the people didn’t know what food each and every animal required. Shem recalls that a creature called the zikita was a case in point. (While I don’t know what a zikita is, others have offered suggestions ranging from chameleon to bird.) The point of Shem’s anecdote is that Noah kept his eyes open and was able to learn, by watching the zikita, what its needs were and then innovate a solution to produce its food. Third problem: the preferred food of some animals was other animals. This was a non-starter given the purpose of the ark was to serve as a genetic safe. However, heaven helped by making the lion feverish enough to lose its appetite for its usual prey but not so sick that it died. Then Shem recalls the avarshinah, which the Talmud identifies with the phoenix based on a verse from Job, but we don’t honestly know what animal it is. Up until this point, the Talmud has impressed upon us the compassion the humans had for the animals in their charge. According to Shem, the avarshinah repaid Noah’s compassion by displaying compassion for him. It recognized the weight of Noah’s burden in caring for the animals and did not want to trouble him further about its own care. When Noah discovered this, he blessed it with, if not eternal life, then long life (Job 29:18 can be read either way).

This whimsical account of life onboard the ark emphasizes that compassion displayed under duress can make an enormous difference in the quality of life—and promotes survival.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. Shem’s anecdotes highlight four themes: (1) discerning and meeting the individual needs of others even when it causes you great difficulty; (2) learning what others need even when you don’t know; (3) God’s help when things are difficult; (4) receiving reciprocal compassion from those you care for. Why do you think the Rabbis chose these four themes? Would you have chosen or added others? How do these themes apply to your life?
2. Do you believe that only human beings can feel and express compassion? Here, the Talmud asserts that animals are capable of discerning human needs and displaying compassion toward them. Do you agree or disagree? What has been your experience?
3. Is there a message here about how we should treat domesticated animals and wildlife today? If so, how does this apply to conditions in zoos? How does it apply to our effect on the habitats of wild animals and their food sources? How does it apply to global warming and its effect on habitats and food supplies?

Public Appointments and Public Opinion—BT Berakhot 55a—#106

R. Yitzhak said: One does not appoint a leader over a community unless one consults the community, for it is said, [Moses said to the Israelites,] “See, Adonai has singled out by name Bezalel” (Exodus 35:30). The Holy One of Blessing said to Moses, “Moses, do you consider Bezalel worthy [of the task of constructing the Tabernacle]?” [Moses] said to [God], “Sovereign of the universe, if You consider him worthy, then I consider him worthy.” [God] said to [Moses], “Nevertheless, go and ask them [i.e., the Israelites].” [Moses] went and asked the Israelites, “Do you consider Bezalel worthy?” They said to him, “If the Holy One of Blessing and you consider him worthy, then we certainly consider him worthy.”

INTRODUCTION

Torah recounts that shortly after Moses descended Mount Sinai the second time with the second set of tablets in hand, he announced the elevation of Bezalel to superintend the construction of the Mishkan (Tabernacle), the Ark, and all their appurtenances according to God’s divine instructions (Exodus 25–27). Torah tells us: 

Moses said to the Israelites: See, Adonai has singled out by name Bezalel, son of Uri son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah. He has endowed him with a divine spirit of skill, ability, and knowledge in every kind of craft and has inspired him to make designs for work in gold, silver, and copper, to cut stones for setting and to carve wood—to work in every kind of designer’s craft—and to give directions. (Exodus 35:30–34) 

Torah presents the choice of Bezalel as entirely God’s. God did not consult Moses about this crucially important decision, and few readers of Torah are surprised by this. Bezalel’s name, which means “in the shadow of God,” would seem to reinforce his sui generis talent.

The premier Israeli art school, Bezalel Academy of Arts and Design in Jerusalem (http://www.bezalel.ac.il/en), is named for the biblical artisan who built the Mishkan.

COMMENTARY

The Sages take what seems to be a clearcut account of God’s announcement to Moses of Bezalel as God’s choice to craft the Mishkan and through clever interpretation, draw from it a teaching about the very opposite: those in power—including unlimited power—should not appoint a person to a position of leadership, even if fully qualified to hold that post, without the community’s consent. 

The Sages’ proof that God operated not in the manner that Torah seems to suggest, but by the principle they promulgate, rests on their interpretation of the word “See.” This term, they tell us, connotes “Look and tell me your opinion about this matter.” In other words, God has nominated Bezalel to serve as chief artisan of the Mishkan, but seeks Moses’ opinion before confirming the choice. Moses responds that if God considers Bezalel worthy of the assignment, Moses certainly concurs. After all, who better than God could know who is best qualified to serve in this capacity? God, however, does not stop with securing Moses’ acquiescence. God tells Moses that he must ask the community for their consent that Bezalel be elevated to this important role. Moses dutifully fulfills the mission, asking the people if they consider Bezalel, in their opinion, worthy to construct the Mishkan. They respond that if God and Moses believe him to be fully qualified and worthy of the appointment, they consent. Only then, does God confirm the nominee.

The passage is a magnificent statement of the importance of seeking and obtaining the community’s approval before assigning someone to a role of leadership and power in the  community. Even God does not make unilateral decisions; even God seeks the consent of the community for Bezalel’s nomination. This is a powerful statement about how power should be used and distributed in a functional society. Clearly, according to the Rabbis, the people find cause to trust God’s and Moses’s assessment of Bezalel’s qualifications. Just as clearly, according to the Rabbis, had the people disagreed and objected strenuously to Bezalel, God would have respected their opinion.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. How would you apply the Talmud’s wisdom about communal consent to the assignment of people to leadership posts? Is it practical to always seen communal consent? On a societal level: How does this speak to representative democracy? How might it speak to high-level unelected leaders with great power, especially when serious objection to them is raised? How would you apply the Talmud’s wisdom to your local community or congregation?
2. How might the Talmud’s view apply to the current controversy surrounding the elevation of a judge to the Supreme Court who faces adamant opposition from many, ranging from ordinary citizens to (at the time I write this, more than 2,400) law school professors?
3. If you are in a position of leadership, what can you learn from this passage that will make you a better, more effective leader? If you were in the position of promoting someone to a position of leadership whom others do not respect or consider worthy, how would you handle the situation?

Death of the Heretic — BT Chagigah 15b (part 2) — #105

When Acher (Elisha b. Abuya) died, they said [in heaven], “We cannot judge him (i.e., consign him to punishment in Gehenna) and we cannot bring him into the World to Come. We cannot judge him because he engaged in Torah study and we cannot bring him into the World to Come because he sinned.” R. Meir said, “It would be better to judge him [and punish him accordingly] so he will [then] enter the World to Come. When I die, I will raise smoke from his grave.” When R. Meir died, a pillar of smoke rose from Acher’s grave. 

 R. Yochanan said, “Is it a mighty deed to burn his teacher? There was one among us—can we not save him? If I take him by the hand, who will take him from me?” R. Yochanan said, “When I die, I will extinguish the smoke from his grave.” When R. Yochanan died, the pillar of smoke rising from Acher’s grave ceased. A certain speaker [at R. Yochanan’s funeral] began his eulogy for [R. Yochanan], “Even the watchman at the entrance [of Gehenna] did not stand before you, our teacher.”

INTRODUCTION

In TMT #104, we met Elisha b. Abuya. In rabbinic literary tradition, Elisha came to be the quintessential heretic or apostate. When and how Elisha came to be viewed as a heretic or apostate is an interesting question, particularly because we lack any historical data to support this view of Elisha’s life. However, the historicity (or lack of same) of Elisha’s heresy is not a  question we will address here. Rather, we follow Sages’ story of what happened after his death and what that story reveals.

Heresy is defined as beliefs that controvert the established beliefs of a religious organization or authority; apostasy is the renunciation or criticism of established religious beliefs.

COMMENTARY

The Rabbis held that after one dies, they face judgment by a heavenly tribunal that weighs their good deeds against their bad deeds. If punishment is warranted, they are consigned to a stint in Gehenna (purgatory) to pay their debt, after which they enjoy their reward in the World to Come (olam ha-ba). For the heavenly court, Elisha is a confounding case: the merit he accrued during his life by studying and teaching Torah is so great that it mitigates against punishment in Gehenna, but his sin (which is not here unspecified—we are supposed to “know”) is so great that he cannot be brought to the World to Come. As a result, Elisha remains in a limbo that is both untenable for the rabbinic system of thought and intolerable for his student and advocate, R. Meir, who says that far preferable to limbo would be for Elisha b. Abuya to be punished in Gehenna so he could pay for his sins and then enter the World to Come. It is unclear why heaven could not arrive at the same conclusion: rather than refraining from punishing him because of his merit, and refraining from rewarding him due to his sin, punish him for his sin and reward him for his merit. Heaven’s inaction suggests that Elisha b. Abuya was unique: one whose Torah scholarship was so great and whose heresy was so complete.

In an effort to end his teacher’s limbo, R. Meir explains that when he dies, he will cause smoke to rise up from Elisha’s grave as a signal for those in this world to see that his advocacy in heaven on behalf of Elisha—that Elisha be punished and then sent to the World to Come—had succeeded.  

The process begun by R. Meir is completed by R. Yochanan. Elisha b. Abuya’s limbo—marking his ostracism from the Jewish community in general, and the rabbinic community in particular—is ended when R. Yochanan forcefully escorts him from Gehenna, presumably to his reward in the World to Come.

More than a century later, R. Meir’s rescue of Elisha b. Abuya from limbo is completed when R. Yochanan escorts him from Gehenna to his reward in the World to Come. Observing that smoke continues to rise from Elisha’s grave, R. Yochanan observes that all Meir has accomplished thus far is to “burn his teacher.” His criticism is not truly directed at R. Meir; it is intended for the community of rabbis, of whom Elisha b. Abuya was part, who failed to “save” him in life, and now fail to advocate for him in death. Therefore, R. Yochanan promises, when he dies, he will complete the task of escorting Elisha to his reward in the World to Come. 

After R. Yochanan dies, the pillar of smoke ceases, signaling his success in securing Elisha’s release from Gehenna to the World to Come. This inspires R. Yochanan’s eulogizer to note that even the guard at the entrance to Gehenna could not prevent the powerful sage from escorting Elisha b. Abuya out.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. Just as divine reward and punishment run through the Bible (see, for example, Leviticus 26 and Deuteronomy 28) so, too, Gehenna and the World to Come, classic elements of rabbinic theology, bespeak heavenly punishment and reward, respectively, after death. What questions and concerns do the presumption of Gehenna and the World to Come answer? Do you believe there is judgment, purgatory, and heavenly reward after life?
2. Most people are a combination of positive and negative traits, good and bad deeds. Some might consider a person righteous while others might condemn the same person as evil. R. Meir is convinced that Elisha’s goodness outweighs his sin and advocates on his behalf. What does this story teach about finding the good in people? Do you look for the good in people even when it may be challenging to find?
3. R. Yochanan focuses on the community’s responsibility for Elisha. What does his viewpoint suggest about the role a community should play in a person’s life?

The Heretic — BT Chagigah 15a, b (part 1) — #104

The Rabbis taught [in a baraita]: An incident concerning Acher [sobriquet for Elisha b. Abuya) who was riding a horse on shabbat as R. Meir walked behind in order to learn Torah from his mouth. [Elisha] said to [R. Meir], “Meir, turn back for I have calculated by the footsteps of my horse that the shabbat boundary is here.” [R. Meir] said to him, “You, too, turn back!” [Elisha] said to him, “Haven’t I already told you that I have heard from behind the partition, ‘Return, rebellious children (Jeremiah 3:14, 22)—except Acher.’” [R. Meir] grabbed hold of him and thrust him into a bet midrash (study house). [Elisha] said to a young child, “Tell me your verse.” [The child] said to him, “There is no peace for the wicked, says Adonai (Isaiah 48:22).” [R. Meir] brought him to another synagogue. [Elisha] said to a young child, “Tell me your verse.” [The child] said to him, “Even if you wash with niter and much soap, your iniquity remains a stain before Me (Jeremiah 2:22).” [R. Meir] brought him to another synagogue. [Elisha] said to a young child, “Tell me your verse.” [The child] said to him, “And you who are doomed to ruin, what do you accomplish by wearing crimson, by decking yourself in jewels of gold, by enlarging your eyes with kohl? You beautify yourself in vain: [Lovers despise you, they seek your life!] (Jeremiah 4:30) [R. Meir] brought [Elisha] to another synagogue until he had brought him into thirteen synagogues.

INTRODUCTION

It is common fare for cultural and political groups to establish boundaries concerning what is appropriate in-group behavior or thinking by telling stories about those who transgress the norms. The classic Jewish example is Elisha b. Abuya, the teacher of R. Meir, who is said to have left the rabbinic circle and become a heretic or an apostate. Early rabbinic literature uses his name, but the Babylonian Talmud refers to him by the pejorative “Acher” (the Other, or Outsider). Explanations abound concerning why Elisha turned away from Judaism: he became an atheist; he became a gnostic; he was swayed by Greek philosophy—each highly speculative and without historical foundation. Tractate Chagigah spends a good deal of time telling stories about Elisha, but goes beyond excoriating him to ask: What about the Torah he taught? If the community rejects Elisha, must it turn its back on his Torah, as well? The stories about Elisha broach another serious question: Does Elisha’s sin wipe away the merit of his study of Torah and the portion in olam ha-ba he earned through study?

COMMENTARY

The Gemara preserves a highly symbolic and meticulously composed story about an interaction between R. Meir and his beloved teacher Elisha b. Abuya. One shabbat, Elisha is riding a horse in violation of a Torah commandment. What is more, he travels beyond the shabbat techum (travel limit of ~.6 mile from the city border), a violation of a rabbinic commandment. In a scene redolent with contradictions and irony, although Elisha has left the rabbinic circle and no longer adheres to halakhah, he is nonetheless keenly aware of its limits and warns R. Meir lest he violate them. Apparently, R. Meir is distracted by the Torah he is learning from the mouth of “Acher,” who still teaches his favorite student despite his own personal lack of faith and commitment.

When Elisha warns R. Meir to “turn back” and not transgress the physical shabbat boundary, R. Meir uses the same words metaphorically to implore his beloved teacher to spiritually “turn back” to Judaism. Elisha responds that he has already heard from beyond the Divine screen that separates heaven and earth that Jeremiah’s promise that Israel would return to God does not include him. R. Meir, unwilling to accept Elisha’s application of the verse from Jeremiah to himself, hauls Elisha into a nearby school where young children are studying. What follows is a long passage, from which I have excerpted the initial anecdotes, which follow the same pattern: Elisha asks a random child to recite the verse he is learning, which turns out to be prophetic for  him. This is called cledonism, a form of divination common in classical antiquity, that is based on chance events or encounters, including words uttered (in this case, verses). The passage recounts that R. Meir took Elisha to thirteen different schools, in each of which Elisha asks a random child what he is learning. The verses mentioned (Isaiah 48:22 and Jeremiah 2:22 and 4:30 above, and further on Psalm 50:16) are all understood to condemn Elisha as wicked and assert that there is no hope of his returning to the rabbinic fold or reconciling with God. In the final anecdote (not included above), the child mumbles and Elisha mishears the child’s recitation of Psalm 50:16. Rather than hearing V’la’rasha (“But to the wicked”), Elisha hears V’le-Elisha (“But to Elisha”), confirming for Elisha that there is no path back to God and the rabbinic community.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. How is it possible for Elisha, who rejects the theological premises of Judaism, to continue to teach Torah to his beloved student, R. Meir? How is it possible for R. Meir to accept Elisha’s teachings as legitimate Torah? Is the righteousness of the source the measure of wisdom’s value? Can a highly imperfect vessel convey wisdom? How should we think about and treat the art, music, inventions, and scientific research of people we deem morally repugnant? (Consider the music of Wagner and the research data of Nazi scientists.)
2. Elisha considers himself beyond repentance. Do you think his statement that when Jeremiah proclaimed in God’s name, Return, rebellious children that an exception was made for him reflects Elisha’s emotional and spiritual state, Talmud’s way of saying that God has deemed Elisha beyond return, or the Rabbis’ judgment of Elisha? Does the way Elisha mishears Psalm 50:16 support one or another of these possible interpretations? 
3. Is there anyone who is beyond repentance? If so, how would you know when to give up on a person? What is the danger of giving up on people? The context of the story of Elisha b. Abuya is the religious realm—it involves heresy or apostasy. Consider  prisoners convicted of violent crimes: Are people who commit acts of violence beyond redemption? Should we constrict prisons to sequester, punish, rehabilitate, or some combination?

The Power of Compassion — BT Baba Metzia 85a — #103

Rabbi [Yehudah ha-Nasi] said, “How precious is suffering!” He accepted upon himself thirteen years [of suffering]: six years of kidney stones and seven years of scurvy, and some say seven years of scurvy and six years of kidney stones. The stableman at Rabbi’s house was wealthier than King Shapur [of Persia]. When he would throw fodder to the animals, the noise [they made] could be heard three miles away. He would arrange to throw [fodder to the animals] just as Rabbi entered the bathroom. Even so, [Rabbi’s] cries were louder than the noise [of the animals] and were heard by seafarers. Nevertheless, the suffering of R. Elazar b. R. Shimon was greater than that of Rabbi, for whereas those of R. Elazar b. R. Shimon came through love and departed through love, those of Rabbi came as the result of a certain incident and departed as the result of an incident. [His sufferings] came as the result of a certain incident—what was this? A calf was being led to slaughter. It tried to hide in the folds of Rabbi’s garment and it lowed. He said to it, “Go, for this you were created.” They said [in heaven], “Since he does not show mercy, let suffering come upon him.” And [his sufferings] departed as the result of an incident—one day, Rabbi’s maidservant was sweeping the house. There were baby weasels there and she [intended] to sweep them away. [Rabbi] said to her, “Leave them be. It is written, [God’s] tender mercies are upon all [God’s] creatures (Psalm 145:9).” They said [in heaven], “Since he shows compassion, let us show compassion to him.”

INTRODUCTION

Human suffering is both ubiquitous and troubling. It is therefore unsurprising that the Rabbis frequently discuss why it happens, what it means, and how to cope with it.  Given the limited physical and mental health options in the ancient world to alleviate suffering, the Rabbis’ capacity to mitigate suffering lay in their ability to reframe it, often in positive terms. Hence, viewing suffering as a gift from God that will be repaid many times over is one strategy employed by the Rabbis to explain suffering. This passage, however, suggests that suffering can be God’s punishment for offensive behavior—here, a failure of compassion.

For the Rabbis, suffering could be punishment from heaven, 

atonement for sin, or it could be a gift from God that will be repaid with interest.

The passage above follows a long treatise on the self-inflicted sufferings of R. Elazar b. R. Shimon and the merit that accrued to him for accepting these sufferings willingly: after he died, his body lay in an attic for many years without decomposing (84b). Rabbi Yehudah ha-Nasi (whom Gemara refers to as “Rabbi”) understands this to be a sign of R. Elazar’s greatness.

COMMENTARY

Having seen that suffering marked R. Elazar as righteous, Rabbi pronounces suffering “precious” and seeks to accept upon himself suffering to gain similar merit in the eyes of God. The nature of his suffering is disputed: tz’mirta means stones in the kidneys or urinary tract; tz’farna is understood as scurvy or thrush. The precise length of each ailment is less important than the claim that Rabbi brought it upon himself willingly and that his pain was so intense that his cries of agony were louder than the intensely loud noise made by the animals, whose keeper provoked them to make noise in order to drown out Rabbi’s cries of pain—all this functions to inform the reader that Rabbi suffered greatly.

The Gemara then undercuts the claim that Rabbi accepted suffering willingly by comparing the merit of his suffering unfavorably to that of R. Elazar b. R. Shimon. Whereas R. Elazar’s suffering came about through love (that is, he accepted suffering as a token of God’s love), Rabbi’s suffering came about, and also ceased, due to particular incidents. What were the incidents? Both involved Rabbi’s attitude toward the suffering of animals: His failure to show compassion toward a calf being hauled to slaughter compounded by his callous and erroneous claim that the animal existed only to become food for human beings provoked heaven to punish him with suffering. This is divine retribution: middah k’neged middah (measure for measure). The incident that ended Rabbi’s suffering is the appropriate bookend to the onset of his suffering: when he treats mere weasels with compassion and saves them from his maidservant’s broom, and even more when he quotes Psalm 145:9 as not merely descriptive of God’s compassion toward living creatures but as prescriptive for people’s obligation to show compassion for all animals, he demonstrates that he has repented the fault that brought on his suffering. Therefore heaven repays his compassion to the weasels by showing him compassion—his suffering ceases.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. How do you view suffering? Do you consider it a natural part of life that is divorced from questions of behavior and righteousness? Do you think it results from ethical choices and behaviors? Do you believe it is an objective experience or a state of mind? Given your answers to these questions, how should one who holds your views approach their own suffering?
2. The Rabbis had ample opportunity to observe the residue of suffering on the soul. Does it leave one more compassionate and resilient, or more fearful and bitter? What has been your experience of suffering? Psychologists Richard Tedeschi and Lawrence Calhoun have written about the possibility of positive personal growth in the aftermath of painful trauma, which they term “post-traumatic growth.” This includes “improved relationships, new possibilities for one's life, a greater appreciation for life, a greater sense of personal strength and spiritual development.” Have you witnessed this in someone else or experienced it in yourself?
3. Why do you think that the story about Rabbi portrays a failure of compassion as the cause of suffering and the development of compassion as the “cure” of suffering? Is there an inherent connection between suffering and compassion?

Eat Together, Bless Separately? — BT Berakhot 45b — #102

Yehudah bar Mereimar, Mar bar Rav Ashi, and Rav Acha of Difti ate a meal together. No one of them was more distinguished than his fellows to lead the blessing for them [i.e., Birkat ha-Mazon, the grace after meals]. They said, “Concerning that which was taught in the Mishnah—‘Three who ate together are obligated to join in zimum [the formal invitation by one of a group that ate together for the others to join in the blessings of Birkat ha-Mazon]’—this pertains only when one person is distinguished. But where all are equal to one another separate blessings is preferable.” [Hence] each person recited Birkat ha-Mazon for himself. [Later] they came before Mereimar. He said to them, “You have fulfilled the obligation of Birkat ha-Mazon, but you have not fulfilled the obligation of the zimun. And if you say, ‘We’ll go back and say the zimun,’ there is no retroactive zimun.”

INTRODUCTION

On this basis of Deuteronomy 8:10 (When you have eaten and been satisfied, you shall blessed Adonai your God for the good land that God has given you ), the Rabbis ordained and composed Birkat ha-Mazon, a series of blessings to be recited after eating a meal that includes bread. The three sages named above are discussing the zimun of Birkat ha-Mazon. The zimun is the invitation by one person, extended to dining companions, to recite Birkat ha-Mazon. The Rabbis ordained (M Berakhot 7:1, on the previous daf) that when three people eat bread together, they are obligated to join in a zimun, whereby one person “invites” the others to recite Birkat ha-Mazon. The Gemara on 45a explains that Rav Assi derived the obligation of zimun from Psalm 34:4 and R. Abahu derived it from Deuteronomy 32:3, but many authorities hold that the zimun is a rabbinic, not Toraitic, obligation.

The basic structure of Birkat ha-Mazon is four blessings preceded by the zimun. The Talmud explains these blessings on daf 48b as the Rabbis’ interpretation of the Deuteronomy 8:10: (1) When you have eaten and been satisfied you shall bless → praise for God who sustains the world with food (blessing #1); (2) Adonai your God → the zimun; (3) for the land → thanks to God with special focus on the land of Israel, the source of Israel’s sustenance (blessing #2); (4) good → request that God protect and rebuild Jerusalem (blessing #3); (5) that God has given you → general praise of and thanks to God (blessing #4). (Additional short blessings have been added to Birkat ha-Mazon, as well as blessings for shabbat and festivals.) 

COMMENTARY

An anecdote is recounted concerning three rabbis who eat a meal together but recite Birkat ha-Mazon privately. They do not say the zimun, that is, no one invites the others to recite Birkat ha-Mazon. Gemara wants to know why they neglect the zimun. They explain their decision saying they believe that the Mishnah’s requirement of zimun pertains only when one of the people present is acknowledged as a greater Torah scholar than the others.

Rav’s students were sitting [and eating] a meal together. Rav Acha came [and joined them]. They said, “A great man has come who will recite for us [i.e., lead the zimun]. [Rav Acha] said to them, “Do you think that the greatest one blesses [i.e., leads Birkat ha-Mazon]? A primary member of the meal blesses.” But the halakhah is that the greatest one blesses even though he came at the end [of the meal]. (BT Berakhot 47a)

It may be that the three colleagues have in mind another incident recounted on Berakhot 47a (see above), in which Rav’s students are eating a meal together when Rav Acha (one of the three rabbis who omit zimun since no one of them is deemed a greater Torah scholar than the others) arrives late to join the meal. The students assume that since Rav Acha is a great sage, he will lead them in Birkat ha-Mazon, but he demurs, saying that someone who was there throughout the meal should lead Birkat ha-Mazon. The Gemara dismisses Rav Acha’s viewpoint, promulgating a halakhic decision that a Torah scholar of prominence, even one who arrived halfway through the meal, should lead Birkat ha-Mazon. 

When the three scholars who recited Birkat ha-Mazon privately (although they ate together) recount this incident to Mereimar, he tells them that while they fulfilled the obligation of reciting Birkat ha-Mazon, they did not fulfill the obligation of saying the zimun. Furthermore, Mereimar says, having recited the blessings of Birkat ha-Mazon, one cannot go back and recite the zimun afterward any more than one would issue an invitation to an event after the event took place.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. Do you think the Rabbis place so much emphasis on the zimun because it is an opportunity to recite a blessing, or due to its potential to create community among people who eat together, or as a “reward” for eating with others rather than alone? How important are communal meals in your life?

2. Rav Acha’s says the one who leads Birkat ha-Mazon should be a “primary” diner. The subsequent halakhah ordains that “the greatest one blesses even though he came at the end [of the meal].” Memeimar holds that someone should lead even if none is considered most distinguished. Which view do you prefer? Often today, a guest at the table is invited to lead Birkat ha-Mazon; does this comport with one of the three views or is it reflect yet another? 

3. The zimun (invitation) applies when people eat a meal together, but what constitutes “eating together?” Imagine a school, workplace cafeteria, or restaurant with multiple tables where people bring or buy their own meal, arriving at different but overlapping times. Or perhaps a large group, such as a family, eats at the same time but occupies several tables. Or imagine people purposefully eating at the same table but each is on his/her cell phone. Under which conditions would you say they are eating “together?”