So here's a question: you find a needle in the lung of an animal. Is it the animal (and lung) kosher or not?
The issue at hand is whether the needle punctured the lung. If it did, the lung is considered traif and thus the animal is not kosher. If it didn't the animal is fine.
What's interesting about this question is that Rabbis Yochanan, Elazar and Chanina permit the animal for eating, while Shimon Ben Lakish, Mani bar Patish, and Shimon be Elyakim say it is traif. That's a pretty big (and even) split.
At the heart of the disagreement is how the needle got into the animal in the first place. There are really only two options. The animal could have swallowed it or aspirated it.
If the animal swallowed it, the needle would have had to have left it's digestive track, puncturing it's intestines (another way an animal become traif) then entered into the lungs by puncturing it from the outside. If the animal aspirated it, the needle would simply have gone down the wrong tube (if there is a right one for a needle!) and the presumption is that it would not have made any holes.
At the root of this debate is whether we privilege rational explanations or halachic certainty. Rationally, it makes much more sense that the needle was aspirated than that it left a cows intestines and found it's way into a lung. That's why Yochanan and his group render the animal kosher. However, Shimon ben Lakish and his group privilege something entirely different. As far-fetched at their scenario may be there is a chance it could have happened. Since the only thing you can be sure about in this situation is that you are not eating non-kosher meat if you prohibit the animal they deem the organ traif and play it safe.
Jewish law is a dance between what is rational and what is safe. Sometimes these two ideals line up. Sometimes, as it does in today's daf, they do not and you must decide which of these two values to privilege.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
How to avoid a dishonest reputation (Chullin 44b)
A useful teaching in today's Daf:
The answer may be no, however just by raising the question I have planted in your mind the question of my honesty and integrity. We live in a world where those two values are so easily lost. The sages are right. If there is a change it might seem fishy, avoid any hint of it, even if it is a fair (and smart) purchase.
If one adjudicated a case (concerning contested property) and ruled in favor of one party and against another, or he ruled an item impure or pure or the ruled it forbidden or permitted, and likewise if witnesses testified about the property all of these (the judges and witnesses) are allowed to buy the item [in which they played a role in permitting or invalidating]. However, the sages said, keep far away from unseemliness and from anything resembling it.Here the sages give sound advice. If I am a judge and I award someone lost property and then he turns around and sells it to me, doesn't that look fishy? Have I ruled in accordance with his claims because I knew he would sell it to me at a fair price?
The answer may be no, however just by raising the question I have planted in your mind the question of my honesty and integrity. We live in a world where those two values are so easily lost. The sages are right. If there is a change it might seem fishy, avoid any hint of it, even if it is a fair (and smart) purchase.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Matot D'var Torah - collective unity
I want to begin with an odd scene. Picture a ball of bees. When winter rolls around, bees understand that they need to protect their queen, so they swarm her. Creating a giant ball around her, their collective bodies give off heat saving all but the most peripheral bees. Only those bees that remain on the outside, freeze and fall off.
While an odd picture, this natural phenomenon describes a scene that is taking place in this week’s Torah portion, Matot. There, two tribes, Rueben and Gad approach Moses and ask to remain outside of the promised land because the land there is better for their cattle. Moses agrees, provided the men of the tribes first act as shock troops in the conquest of Caanan. After winning the war for the promised land they can return to the east side of the Jordan river with their families and begin life outside of the land.
The rabbis come down hard on these two tribes for their decision to remain outside of the Caanan. Therefore the rabbis paint their motives as flawed. Numbers Rabbah tells us that the tribes asked to remain outside of the land because they loved money more than people. When the tribes first approach Moses about staying behind they explain, “Let us stay here and we will build fenced-in enclosures for our cattle and cities for our young children.' (Numbers 32:16). Moses hears this plea and is appalled. In listing the rationale for staying behind, the tribes have privileged their livestock over their families. When they finally attain permission from Moses, the leader reminds them of what is really important, putting their children foremost on the list of tasks, first “Build cities for your young children” and only then “fenced-in enclosures for your cattle.” (Numbers 32:24).
Ironically, in their quest for wealth these tribes failed to put people first and consequently, they left themselves exposed. As a result of this oversight, they were the first tribes to be conquered and to go into exile. In our beginning example, the bees on the outside of the ball have no choice. In this natural process some need to freeze to protect the queen. But these tribes could have entered the promised land and stayed close to the body politic. If they had remained one unit, together with the rest of Israel, they may not have been taken captive by King Mesha of Moab in the 9th century.
Throughout time, Jewish law and ethics have privileged collective responsibility and unity. We are commanded in the Torah, “lo titgodedu” which the rabbis understood to mean, “do not make factions.” Factions create discord. Factions are weaker. It’s cold out there alone on the outside.
So I leave you with a final image, one from our tradition and very fitting for a Temple so close to the water. The rabbis liken the Jewish people to two barges. When these barges are tied together, God builds God’s palace across their bows and anything is possible. But when they are untied and drift toward their own selfish pursuits as did the tribes of Rueben and Gad, God’s palace has no platform tumbles into the space between the boats, sinking to the bottom of the sea.
May you stand firm in your collective resolve and sense God’s palace all around you. Shabbat Shalom
While an odd picture, this natural phenomenon describes a scene that is taking place in this week’s Torah portion, Matot. There, two tribes, Rueben and Gad approach Moses and ask to remain outside of the promised land because the land there is better for their cattle. Moses agrees, provided the men of the tribes first act as shock troops in the conquest of Caanan. After winning the war for the promised land they can return to the east side of the Jordan river with their families and begin life outside of the land.
The rabbis come down hard on these two tribes for their decision to remain outside of the Caanan. Therefore the rabbis paint their motives as flawed. Numbers Rabbah tells us that the tribes asked to remain outside of the land because they loved money more than people. When the tribes first approach Moses about staying behind they explain, “Let us stay here and we will build fenced-in enclosures for our cattle and cities for our young children.' (Numbers 32:16). Moses hears this plea and is appalled. In listing the rationale for staying behind, the tribes have privileged their livestock over their families. When they finally attain permission from Moses, the leader reminds them of what is really important, putting their children foremost on the list of tasks, first “Build cities for your young children” and only then “fenced-in enclosures for your cattle.” (Numbers 32:24).
Ironically, in their quest for wealth these tribes failed to put people first and consequently, they left themselves exposed. As a result of this oversight, they were the first tribes to be conquered and to go into exile. In our beginning example, the bees on the outside of the ball have no choice. In this natural process some need to freeze to protect the queen. But these tribes could have entered the promised land and stayed close to the body politic. If they had remained one unit, together with the rest of Israel, they may not have been taken captive by King Mesha of Moab in the 9th century.
Throughout time, Jewish law and ethics have privileged collective responsibility and unity. We are commanded in the Torah, “lo titgodedu” which the rabbis understood to mean, “do not make factions.” Factions create discord. Factions are weaker. It’s cold out there alone on the outside.
So I leave you with a final image, one from our tradition and very fitting for a Temple so close to the water. The rabbis liken the Jewish people to two barges. When these barges are tied together, God builds God’s palace across their bows and anything is possible. But when they are untied and drift toward their own selfish pursuits as did the tribes of Rueben and Gad, God’s palace has no platform tumbles into the space between the boats, sinking to the bottom of the sea.
May you stand firm in your collective resolve and sense God’s palace all around you. Shabbat Shalom
Monday, July 4, 2011
Plan Ahead - a Parshat Chukat Sermon
Sorry I haven't written in a while. I've been working hard at Temple Adas Israel in Sag Harbor. Here's a sermon I gave this past Friday:
30 days, 12 hours, and 30 minutes. That’s how long William Henry Harrison served as the president of the United States. As legend has it, Harrison came to office on a cold and wet March 4th day. Known for his tough persona, he left his hat and coat inside and delivered the longest inaugural address in the history of the United States, over 2 hours. Needless to say, Harrison caught pneumonia and died soon after.
Immediately following his death, America faced an important question. Who would be the next president? Article two of the constitution is vague. If a president dies the constitution makes it is clear that his vice president, in this case, John Tyler assumes presidential responsibilities. However, what is not clear is whether Tyler would be the new president or the acting president until an emergency election is held. Following the death, lawmakers made a mad scramble to figure out what would happen. After some hard fought battles, it was decided that Tyler would become the new president of the United States. Even on his deathbed, William Henry Harrison had not prepared for his succession and the next generation of leaders had to pay for this oversight.
Why begin a sermon with this story tonight? Besides the fact that it’s the fourth of July weekend, the story shows just how hard it is to get one’s house in order before one makes a transition. Harrison’s story deals with death, but people struggle similarly with preparing successors after moving up in a job or even handing their children over to a new babysitter for the evening. With everything to think about, how can you adequately prepare and guard those after you for the challenges that lay ahead.
Our Torah portion this week, Chukat, gives us two models of transition, one good and one poor. Parshat Chukat contains two deaths, first Moses’s sister Miraim dies, then Moses’s brother Aaron. Both leaders die for mysterious reasons and both leaders die quickly. However, there is one marked difference in the Torah’s depiction of their deaths: Aaron prepares for his transition.
We don’t know anything about Miriam’s death. It appears suddenly at the start of Numbers chapter 20, “The Israelites arrived in a body at the wilderness of Zin on the first new moon, and the people stayed at Kadesh. Miriam died there and was buried.” After this, the Torah moves on. The people do not mourn, the cause is not explained. However, Miriam’s death would play a crucial role in the story of the Jewish people. According to rabbinic legend, Miriam was given a special gift. Throughout the desert, in the driest of climates, Miriam was able to summon a magic well and provide water for the people. Yet, no sooner do we learn of Miriam’s death than we learn that the people are parched. The verse following Miriam’s death reads, “The community was without water, and they joined against Moses and Aaron.” True, we don’t know how Miriam died, if it was sudden or not, but what we do know is that as she was nearing the end of her life, Miriam had not found a successor. No one but her had the power over water. Therefore, when she disappeared so did her well. Trepidation followed Miriam’s death in the same way it did after William Henry Harrison.
Aaron’s death was different. At the behest of God, Aaron was commanded to ascend Mount Hor in front of the whole community. There he took of his priestly garments and dressed his son Eleazer in them. This simple act was all that was needed to pass the mantle of leadership from father to son. Aaron would ascend the mountain as high priest and his son would descend in that role. This simple act by Aaron ensured that would be no power vacuum and there would be someone to serve in his place after his death.
Aaron’s death exemplified an important feature of the way he lived his life. According to rabbinic legend Aaron used to walk around town. If he saw someone who didn’t know the prayers, he would teach them. As high priest, Aaron could have taken care of the people’s spiritual needs. He could have recited the prayers for them. However, knowing that an empowered people are better than a dependent one he took to time to instruct them. The same goes for settling disputes. According to rabbinic tradition, Aaron would stay up the night before a big trial, convincing the plaintiff and defendant to meet. There he would mediate between the two of them. Having worked out their dispute on their own, the two parties would cancel the case. True the courts are capable of ruling between parties, but a people who can compromise and discuss problems is better. This action is why the rabbi referred to Aaron as a “Rodef Shalom,” a pursuer of peace.
Aaron teaches us that although we can’t predict the future, living our life with one eye toward it is crucial. We won’t always be there to recite prayers or rule in disputes, so teaching others these skills ensures that prayers will get said and arguments settled even in our absence. Because of the way Aaron lived his life, his legacy was a more self-sustaining and grounded people, and Aaron’s death was a little less of a tragedy.
Having time to get one’s affairs in order and teach one’s lessons before death is sometimes a luxury we don’t often get. However, when we do have the time, it is important to take advantage of it. According to one rabbinic legend, before Jacob’s death, people died by sneezing. They would feel fine one minute, sneeze, and their soul would fly out their nose. As an aside, this is one reason why we bless those after a good sneeze. However, Jacob’s death would be different. He prayed for sickness, so that he would have time to gather his children together one last time and settle his affairs. With as much pain as it has caused us over time, sickness would be Jacob’s gift to humanity in forcing us to make important end of life decisions.
We cannot settle everything while we are living, but it’s never too late to start. No matter your age, make a decision about organ donation. Talk to your loved ones about what to if you end up on life support. If you have young children, make sure you designate a legal guardian if something should happen to you. Make sure your life insurance is up to date. Buy a funeral plot. The synagogue owns a cemetery and Howard Chwatzky would be happy to tell you more about it.
In the coming weeks, look out for a bereavement guide that Rabbi Morris and I have been working on. In addition to explaining the stages of Jewish mourning, it includes information about legal and living wills, a helpful sheet containing all the crucial information your family may need to know in the case of a tragedy (simple things like your safety deposit box number), and resources on how to fill out an ethical will so that your children and grandchildren may read in your own words the life lessons you want to impart. There’s a lot to remember when planning for the future, and Rabbi Morris and I are happy to be a resource if you would like to talk more about it.
After William Henry Harrison’s death, America faced a challenge because they had not prepared. However, they didn’t learn their lesson. After Harrison, other presidents would die in office, and each time they would rely on a Harrison’s shaky precedent to appoint the sitting vice president. This shows just how hard it is to really prepare. Finally, in 1967, this changed with the ratification of the 25th amendment that spelled out all the steps of vice presidential succession. America had finally learned their lesson and moved from a Miriam model of winging it to an Aaron model of advance planning. In this instance, there would be no more loose ends.
Shabbat Shalom and Happy 4th of July weekend.
30 days, 12 hours, and 30 minutes. That’s how long William Henry Harrison served as the president of the United States. As legend has it, Harrison came to office on a cold and wet March 4th day. Known for his tough persona, he left his hat and coat inside and delivered the longest inaugural address in the history of the United States, over 2 hours. Needless to say, Harrison caught pneumonia and died soon after.
Immediately following his death, America faced an important question. Who would be the next president? Article two of the constitution is vague. If a president dies the constitution makes it is clear that his vice president, in this case, John Tyler assumes presidential responsibilities. However, what is not clear is whether Tyler would be the new president or the acting president until an emergency election is held. Following the death, lawmakers made a mad scramble to figure out what would happen. After some hard fought battles, it was decided that Tyler would become the new president of the United States. Even on his deathbed, William Henry Harrison had not prepared for his succession and the next generation of leaders had to pay for this oversight.
Why begin a sermon with this story tonight? Besides the fact that it’s the fourth of July weekend, the story shows just how hard it is to get one’s house in order before one makes a transition. Harrison’s story deals with death, but people struggle similarly with preparing successors after moving up in a job or even handing their children over to a new babysitter for the evening. With everything to think about, how can you adequately prepare and guard those after you for the challenges that lay ahead.
Our Torah portion this week, Chukat, gives us two models of transition, one good and one poor. Parshat Chukat contains two deaths, first Moses’s sister Miraim dies, then Moses’s brother Aaron. Both leaders die for mysterious reasons and both leaders die quickly. However, there is one marked difference in the Torah’s depiction of their deaths: Aaron prepares for his transition.
We don’t know anything about Miriam’s death. It appears suddenly at the start of Numbers chapter 20, “The Israelites arrived in a body at the wilderness of Zin on the first new moon, and the people stayed at Kadesh. Miriam died there and was buried.” After this, the Torah moves on. The people do not mourn, the cause is not explained. However, Miriam’s death would play a crucial role in the story of the Jewish people. According to rabbinic legend, Miriam was given a special gift. Throughout the desert, in the driest of climates, Miriam was able to summon a magic well and provide water for the people. Yet, no sooner do we learn of Miriam’s death than we learn that the people are parched. The verse following Miriam’s death reads, “The community was without water, and they joined against Moses and Aaron.” True, we don’t know how Miriam died, if it was sudden or not, but what we do know is that as she was nearing the end of her life, Miriam had not found a successor. No one but her had the power over water. Therefore, when she disappeared so did her well. Trepidation followed Miriam’s death in the same way it did after William Henry Harrison.
Aaron’s death was different. At the behest of God, Aaron was commanded to ascend Mount Hor in front of the whole community. There he took of his priestly garments and dressed his son Eleazer in them. This simple act was all that was needed to pass the mantle of leadership from father to son. Aaron would ascend the mountain as high priest and his son would descend in that role. This simple act by Aaron ensured that would be no power vacuum and there would be someone to serve in his place after his death.
Aaron’s death exemplified an important feature of the way he lived his life. According to rabbinic legend Aaron used to walk around town. If he saw someone who didn’t know the prayers, he would teach them. As high priest, Aaron could have taken care of the people’s spiritual needs. He could have recited the prayers for them. However, knowing that an empowered people are better than a dependent one he took to time to instruct them. The same goes for settling disputes. According to rabbinic tradition, Aaron would stay up the night before a big trial, convincing the plaintiff and defendant to meet. There he would mediate between the two of them. Having worked out their dispute on their own, the two parties would cancel the case. True the courts are capable of ruling between parties, but a people who can compromise and discuss problems is better. This action is why the rabbi referred to Aaron as a “Rodef Shalom,” a pursuer of peace.
Aaron teaches us that although we can’t predict the future, living our life with one eye toward it is crucial. We won’t always be there to recite prayers or rule in disputes, so teaching others these skills ensures that prayers will get said and arguments settled even in our absence. Because of the way Aaron lived his life, his legacy was a more self-sustaining and grounded people, and Aaron’s death was a little less of a tragedy.
Having time to get one’s affairs in order and teach one’s lessons before death is sometimes a luxury we don’t often get. However, when we do have the time, it is important to take advantage of it. According to one rabbinic legend, before Jacob’s death, people died by sneezing. They would feel fine one minute, sneeze, and their soul would fly out their nose. As an aside, this is one reason why we bless those after a good sneeze. However, Jacob’s death would be different. He prayed for sickness, so that he would have time to gather his children together one last time and settle his affairs. With as much pain as it has caused us over time, sickness would be Jacob’s gift to humanity in forcing us to make important end of life decisions.
We cannot settle everything while we are living, but it’s never too late to start. No matter your age, make a decision about organ donation. Talk to your loved ones about what to if you end up on life support. If you have young children, make sure you designate a legal guardian if something should happen to you. Make sure your life insurance is up to date. Buy a funeral plot. The synagogue owns a cemetery and Howard Chwatzky would be happy to tell you more about it.
In the coming weeks, look out for a bereavement guide that Rabbi Morris and I have been working on. In addition to explaining the stages of Jewish mourning, it includes information about legal and living wills, a helpful sheet containing all the crucial information your family may need to know in the case of a tragedy (simple things like your safety deposit box number), and resources on how to fill out an ethical will so that your children and grandchildren may read in your own words the life lessons you want to impart. There’s a lot to remember when planning for the future, and Rabbi Morris and I are happy to be a resource if you would like to talk more about it.
After William Henry Harrison’s death, America faced a challenge because they had not prepared. However, they didn’t learn their lesson. After Harrison, other presidents would die in office, and each time they would rely on a Harrison’s shaky precedent to appoint the sitting vice president. This shows just how hard it is to really prepare. Finally, in 1967, this changed with the ratification of the 25th amendment that spelled out all the steps of vice presidential succession. America had finally learned their lesson and moved from a Miriam model of winging it to an Aaron model of advance planning. In this instance, there would be no more loose ends.
Shabbat Shalom and Happy 4th of July weekend.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Economic Advice in the Talmud - It's not all about the next big idea (Menachot 85a)
In the daf from a few days back the Talmud quotes a disagreement between Moses and two Egyptian sorcerers (Yochana and Mamrei). According to Rashi after the first plague (turning water to blood), these sorcerers mocked Moses, saying "Straw you are bringing to Aforayim!" Rashi explains that Aforayim was a market that was known for selling straw. According to these sorcerers, Moses's "magic" in Egypt was nothing special. Since they were known also for doing tricks and feats, it was repetitive and futile for Moses to try anything supernatural. In essence they mock him saying "It's been done!" For them, doing magic in Egypt was like bringing straw to a market already saturated with the product.
However, Moses doesn't give up. He has an answer, "People say: To a place of vegetables, take your vegetables." For Moses, it's smart business to take vegetables to a market that already sells them. That's because there is already demand for them and because people can compare prices and quality. If your produce is good quality, it can only help you to enter the market. Being the first person in the community to sell tomatoes when no one is accustomed to buying them isn't always good business. Yes, you will corner the market, but people may pass by your product because they are not used to buying it or have never tasted it.
This text is interesting for two reasons. The first is this, that this is one of the many aphorisms found in the Talmud that teaches us the rabbis understanding of economic forces. However, perhaps more important, Moses's response is interesting because of what it says about influencing people.
If you do extraordinary work (like turn water into blood) you hope to get recognized. However, if no one knows to look out for your work, people will miss it - I'm not sure one would miss blood rivers but I hope you get the point. Great ideas are only great if people hear them. Perhaps, it's not about being the first person to do something. Rather it's entering a market that already expects a certain kind of innovation and doing it better (and slightly different) than anyone else. Perhaps that's what make the plague so great. Everyone does magic but not everyone can turn rivers to blood.
This second reading of Moses's statement is important for many reasons, not the least of which is it sums up my view on synagogues. It seems today that people are looking for the next big idea to shape Jewish life. Some of these ideas may be great but they lack something. There is no platform for them. Innovation in Jewish life must happen, but in the marketplace of Jewish ideas, fixing and engaging with an established product, temple life, is the smarter way to make change and impact people. We can support Israel, encourage Jewish practice, fix Jewish literacy rates, and support our needy anywhere. But there is no place that we can do it better than through our institutions.
However, Moses doesn't give up. He has an answer, "People say: To a place of vegetables, take your vegetables." For Moses, it's smart business to take vegetables to a market that already sells them. That's because there is already demand for them and because people can compare prices and quality. If your produce is good quality, it can only help you to enter the market. Being the first person in the community to sell tomatoes when no one is accustomed to buying them isn't always good business. Yes, you will corner the market, but people may pass by your product because they are not used to buying it or have never tasted it.
This text is interesting for two reasons. The first is this, that this is one of the many aphorisms found in the Talmud that teaches us the rabbis understanding of economic forces. However, perhaps more important, Moses's response is interesting because of what it says about influencing people.
If you do extraordinary work (like turn water into blood) you hope to get recognized. However, if no one knows to look out for your work, people will miss it - I'm not sure one would miss blood rivers but I hope you get the point. Great ideas are only great if people hear them. Perhaps, it's not about being the first person to do something. Rather it's entering a market that already expects a certain kind of innovation and doing it better (and slightly different) than anyone else. Perhaps that's what make the plague so great. Everyone does magic but not everyone can turn rivers to blood.
This second reading of Moses's statement is important for many reasons, not the least of which is it sums up my view on synagogues. It seems today that people are looking for the next big idea to shape Jewish life. Some of these ideas may be great but they lack something. There is no platform for them. Innovation in Jewish life must happen, but in the marketplace of Jewish ideas, fixing and engaging with an established product, temple life, is the smarter way to make change and impact people. We can support Israel, encourage Jewish practice, fix Jewish literacy rates, and support our needy anywhere. But there is no place that we can do it better than through our institutions.
There are those who always want the next big Jewish idea. There are others who want to enter the race in the middle and build off what others have done. Today, our Talmud gives a vote for the latter.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Oil, Tax Loopholes, and Tithing (Menachot 67b)
First of all, a shameless plug. If you haven't already, please go to www.facebook.com/brooklynjews and "like" the Brooklyn Jews page. It's the organization I work for (the outreach arm of Congregation Beth Elohim) and we are trying to get 100 likes by the end of the week!
Now for the post.
The Talmud asks the question: Why is an idolater's terumah (priestly tithe) valid? Technically, if we read the Bible there is no evidence that an idolater can bring a tithe to the Temple. The reason for this is because the specific act that makes grain subject to tithing is the "smoothing" of the grain during preparation. Without smoothing, grain is technically not subject to tithes, and any grain not subject to tithes cannot be brought to the temple, even as a gift. Therefore, if an idolater were to smooth grain the grain would never be subject to the laws of tithing.
However the rabbis noticed that something odd was happening with the grain. Since terumah is donation by percentage (like any tithe), it meant that those who were rich and could afford a lot of grain also had to donate a lot to the Temple. So what did they do? They transferred the ownership of the grain to idolators right before the grain was to be "smoothed." Then after the idolator smoothed the grain (and it was no longer subject to the laws of terumah) they transferred the ownership back wealthy person, and thus no one was obligated in this particular tithe.
To counter this, the rabbis decided that the terumah of idol worshipers would be valid!
If we consider terumah to be a tax to the Temple, there is a lot in common with the actions of these wealthy individuals and the oil companies who set up offices in other nations to avoid paying US taxes. The rabbis noticed these tax loopholes in their system and thus added strictures on the biblical law in order to close them?
Maybe we should use the rabbis as a model and do the same?
As it turns out the senate is voting TODAY on at least part of the issue. I don't know enough about the bill to endorse it or reject it but one has to admit, it's funny when timing works out like it does.
Now for the post.
The Talmud asks the question: Why is an idolater's terumah (priestly tithe) valid? Technically, if we read the Bible there is no evidence that an idolater can bring a tithe to the Temple. The reason for this is because the specific act that makes grain subject to tithing is the "smoothing" of the grain during preparation. Without smoothing, grain is technically not subject to tithes, and any grain not subject to tithes cannot be brought to the temple, even as a gift. Therefore, if an idolater were to smooth grain the grain would never be subject to the laws of tithing.
However the rabbis noticed that something odd was happening with the grain. Since terumah is donation by percentage (like any tithe), it meant that those who were rich and could afford a lot of grain also had to donate a lot to the Temple. So what did they do? They transferred the ownership of the grain to idolators right before the grain was to be "smoothed." Then after the idolator smoothed the grain (and it was no longer subject to the laws of terumah) they transferred the ownership back wealthy person, and thus no one was obligated in this particular tithe.
To counter this, the rabbis decided that the terumah of idol worshipers would be valid!
If we consider terumah to be a tax to the Temple, there is a lot in common with the actions of these wealthy individuals and the oil companies who set up offices in other nations to avoid paying US taxes. The rabbis noticed these tax loopholes in their system and thus added strictures on the biblical law in order to close them?
Maybe we should use the rabbis as a model and do the same?
As it turns out the senate is voting TODAY on at least part of the issue. I don't know enough about the bill to endorse it or reject it but one has to admit, it's funny when timing works out like it does.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
The Lesser of Two Evils: Be a Good Samaritan (Menachot 64a)
A good puzzle in Friday's Daf:
On the other hand, if one plucks the two stems each with a single fig on it they have not wasted any figs, however they have done TWO acts that are a desecration of Shabbat - two reaping are worse than one. So what is the answer?
According to the Talmud, it the answer is obvious. We should bring three figs on one stem. In the fight between a desecration of amount or a desecration of number of actions, the Talmud rules in favor of avoiding the latter. For our commentators, the reason is because bringing three figs violates a prohibition of the rabbis while plucking twice violates a biblical prohibition.
However, I think there is something more here. When one needs to save a life, they must act fast. There are times when you know what you are doing is clearly wrong. No lifeguard should pull a potential spinal victim out by their neck. Doing so is irresponsible like choose to pluck twice when one only needs to pluck once. However, when you have the potential to save someone's life you shouldn't be held accountable for acting fast even if you make small mistakes along the way. Using the same example, you could have turned the spinal victim more smoothly, you could have hooked them up tighter to the backboard, however, if you do the best you can, you should not be held liable. Don't count the figs like you don't scrutinize the knots on the backboard. Just act!
Rava's puzzle teaches us that good samaritan laws applty in some form to the rabbis.
Rava asked: If a sick person was assessed as needing to eat two dried figs on Shabbat (because doing so would save their life) and there are two dried figs attached to two stems or there are three figs attached to one stem which do we bring?Here's the problem. If the person only needs two figs but we bring him three we have plucked on too many figs for him. Jewish law allows one to violate the laws of Shabbat (in this case the prohibition against reaping) in order to heal a sick person. However, anything above the bare minimum is considered a true violation and is not excused in order to help the sick person. This prohibition is called "ribui b'shurin."
On the other hand, if one plucks the two stems each with a single fig on it they have not wasted any figs, however they have done TWO acts that are a desecration of Shabbat - two reaping are worse than one. So what is the answer?
According to the Talmud, it the answer is obvious. We should bring three figs on one stem. In the fight between a desecration of amount or a desecration of number of actions, the Talmud rules in favor of avoiding the latter. For our commentators, the reason is because bringing three figs violates a prohibition of the rabbis while plucking twice violates a biblical prohibition.
However, I think there is something more here. When one needs to save a life, they must act fast. There are times when you know what you are doing is clearly wrong. No lifeguard should pull a potential spinal victim out by their neck. Doing so is irresponsible like choose to pluck twice when one only needs to pluck once. However, when you have the potential to save someone's life you shouldn't be held accountable for acting fast even if you make small mistakes along the way. Using the same example, you could have turned the spinal victim more smoothly, you could have hooked them up tighter to the backboard, however, if you do the best you can, you should not be held liable. Don't count the figs like you don't scrutinize the knots on the backboard. Just act!
Rava's puzzle teaches us that good samaritan laws applty in some form to the rabbis.
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