Amen, amen! - Brakhot 53b

Rabbi Yosi says: Greater is he who answers 'amen' than he who says the blessing. Said Rabbi Nehorai to him: By heaven it is so! The proof is that while the common soldiers go down and open the battle, it is the mighty ones who go down to win it!

Another chapter is finished, leaving just one to go before the end of our first masechet (let's have a seudah!). But I was struck by the debate on 53b about whether it's better to lead the blessing or say amen. While Rav and Rav Huna urge their children to just grab the cup and say birkat hamazon, Rabbi Yosi and Rabbi Nehorai provide an interesting counterpoint, with an unusual image.

The person leading the beracha, according to this metaphor, are like the front line of an attack, leading a foray. This requires courage and determination certainly, but it may also be a little foolhardy, leaving you in a vulnerable position. Without the giborim, the mighty ones, to reinforce your position, the war would never be one.

As a community leader and future rabbi, as well as being someone who prefers leading services to joining them, this idea is both challenging and inspiring. I am far more likely to be the one grabbing the cup and saying the blessing, getting up on the bimah and leading the davening, but Rabbi Nehorai reminds me of a few key facts:

             -A leader with no community will not succeed. The community are our reinforcements, our giborim, as we go to war.

             -Not only is there no shame in just saying amen, in fact by supporting the community atmosphere, you are contributing to a vital job. Your presence, with your participation, qualifies you as a mighty warrior.

As you go into Yom Kippur, and get ready to wage war against our sins, remember the teaching of Rabbi Nehorai - and look to your giborim for support.

Just Tuck In - Brakhot 44a

With the start of the new semester and imminent high holidays, I haven't had much time to post here. But today's daf made my smile because it seemed entirely appropriate that after a chapter of discussing blessings before eating different kinds of food, we learn all about how much some rabbis loved to eat a certain kind of fruit dish.

R. Abbahu used to eat of them [so freely] that a fly slipped off his forehead. R. Ammi and R. Assi used to eat of them till their hair fell out. R. Simeon b. Lakish ate until his mind began to wander, and R. Johanan told the household of the Nasi, and R. Judah the Prince send a band of men for him and they brought him to his house.

Perhaps a warning against over indulgence, it seems a fitting tone for close to the end of such a food-focused chapter.

Shana tova!

Pecking Order - Brakhot 40a

"Rav Yehuda said in the name of Rav: A person is forbidden to eat before he gives food to his beast, since it says, "and I will give grass in thy fields for thy cattle, and then, thou shalt eat and be satisfied." (Deut 11:15)"

The rabbinic commandment to always feed one's animals before oneself strikes me as an excellent example of the high value placed on animal life as well as human life. Aside from animals' uses as livestock and work-animals, they are also God's creation and our charge, and this small suggestion by Rav Yehuda illustrates that beautifully.

Fear of God vs Fear of Man - Brakhot 28b

"May it be [God's] will that the fear of heaven shall be upon you like the fear of flesh and blood."

On his deathbed, Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai is visited by his students and begins to cry, explaining that if he were only going to see a human king then he would certainly cry - but he is in fact goign to stand before the King of Kings whose judgements last forever.

But when asked for a blessing, he offers the above blessing, that the fear of heaven should be to his students like the fear of human beings.

So which is primary? Fear of God or fear of mortals? In this story, Rabbi Yochanan seems to switch between the two.

It seems that perhaps we are seeing two perspectives, one when close to death, and one as a way to live one's life. Rabbi Yochanan is on his deathbed, and so from his perspective it's the intangible, wrath of the divine that he most fears.

But for his students, he offers them a more tangible basis for their faith and for their future good behaviour, to be at least as afraid of God as you are of human beings. For earthly life, earthly fear is the proper foundation on which to build ethical action.

Toilet Talk - Brakhot 25

"Abaye said: A little excrement may be neutralized with spittle; to which Raba added: It must be thick spittle. Raba said: If the excrement is in a hole, he may put his shoe over it and recite the Shema'. Mar the son of Rabina inquired: What is the rule if there is some dung sticking to his shoe? — This was left unanswered."

Although most of the dilemmas raised by today's daf are solved by modern plumbing, this one remains - what to do with poop on your shoe. Coincidentally, that's the only feces-related scenario not answered by the daf! Metaphorically or otherwise, how can we separate ourselves from the unclean long enough to honor the Infinite?

Speaking with the Spirits - Brakhot 18

Today's daf has several stories relating the frailty of the divide between the world of the living and the world of the dead. The following story attempt to show that the dead know, and can communicate, who will join them next:

"Come and hear; for Ze'iri deposited some money with his landlady, and while he was away visiting Rav she died. So he went after her to the cemetery and said to her, Where is my money? She replied to him: Go and take it from under the ground, in the hole of the doorpost, in such and such a place, and tell my mother to send me my comb and my tube of eye-paint by the hand of So-and-so who is coming here tomorrow. Does not this show that they know? — Perhaps Dumah announces to them beforehand."

The conversation continues on tomorrow's daf, but I doubt the rabbis, like ourselves, ever truly resolve it. We, like them, seem to have pretty good evidence for some level of interaction between the living and the dead, but we still lack any proof that such a thing is possible.

I've started so I'll finish - Brakhot 14b

Excuse the (possibly obscure) English reference in the title.

Rav Kahana has said in the name of Rav: One need not begin, but if he begins he should finish.

I found this statement of Rav Kahana in the name of Rav to be rather profound and to have much broader applications than the context of the discussion, about whether one should read the whole of the third paragraph of the shema or not.

There are so many things that we don't have to start - we may feel nervous about beginning a new thing, an awkward conversation, making a new friend, starting a new blog or religious practice. And we don't necessarily have to start these things, or open these doors.

However, if we do start, Rav Kahana advises us to see everything through to its end, not to give up half way through but to do a thorough, complete job in any task we undertake.

"I [didn't] dream a dream" - Brakhot 14

"R. Yonah further said in the name of R. Zera: Whoever goes seven days without a dream is called evil, as it says, And he that has it shall dwell satisfied; he shall not be visited with evil. (Prov. 19:23) Read not sabea', [satisfied] but sheba' [seven]. "

So if you go seven nights without dreaming, it implies evil. Hmm....I think I may be in trouble. But seriously, this does have a really important implication. To me, this shows how connected the rabbis saw the realm of the Divine with the human. Dreams being one of the few potent connections between the supernatural and the natural, they were suspicious of anyone who lacked the ability to forge that connection. How can we read this into modernity? How can we encourage people to build that connection for themselves, to make sure that they're 'dreaming' at least once a week?

Brakhot 7 - Ⓐnarchy

There was one point at which I wrote an extensive paper on the role that anarchism plays in Jewish texts. It focused less on any particular political expression of 'anarchism' per se, but rather on the fact that many Jewish thinkers have rejected the idea of human government as deeply flawed, and wanted to  live in a society in which the only King was God. This quote from today's daf is further great evidence of this underlying distrust/dislike of human authority:

At the time when the sun rises and all the kings of the East and West put their crowns upon their heads and bow down to the sun, the Holy One, blessed be He, becomes at once angry.

A few lines I enjoyed today - Berachot 6

Abba Benjamin says, If the eye had the power to see them, no creature could endure the demons.

I find it fascinating how seriously this passage takes the existence of demons - as physical realities that cause damage to the physical world.

Justice is also torah.

An important point to remember - there is torah in maintaining justice, not just in studying. Creating a just world is a kind of torah study.

Rabbi Yochanan says: Whenever the Holy One, blessed be He, comes into a Synagogue and does not find ten persons there, He becomes angry at once. For it is said: Wherefore, when I came, was there no man? When I called, was there no answer?

This text always hits me hard, as someone who finds it really hard to get myself to shul for shacharit. The idea that God is there wondering where everyone is is both evocative and moving.

The merit of a fast day lies in the charity.

I always try to teach that fast days like the 9th of Av are only meaningful if we do something for justice, and this brief line (in a powerful section) is a punchy quote to the same effect.

Even God Has Insomnia - Brakhot 3

Particularly poignant was the image of God staying up all night, crying out three times a night about how miserable it was that he destroyed his own palace. Reading this on the day we hear נחמו נחמו עמי in the haftarah, a week after Tisha B'Av offered me a powerful way to think about remorse.  I find it easy to be angry at God - and to encourage others to do the same - when catastrophes plague our lives. Yet perhaps God reacts to God's own actions with the same amount of reflection as we do to our mistakes: facing many sleepless nights in "timeout," thinking about what we've done.

This was never the God I envisioned...

Danger, danger!

The rather peculiar story of Elijah struck me today, as he turns up to tell Rabbi Yossi that he shouldn't have gone in to a ruin to pray but should have stayed on the road and prayed an abbreviated amidah. We are then told that there are 3 reasons not to go into a ruin - falling masonry, suspicion that one might be meeting a woman there, and demons.

It seemed strange to me that Elijah comes to teach something so apparently mundane - there are no enormous revelations here - so I started thinking about a possible deeper understanding. I came to the idea that the three dangers listed might cover more than just entering a ruin - that these three dangers, representing the physical, spiritual and social dangers, run the gamut of what threatens us as people living in society.

With the Talmud's short discussion afterwards, we know that no single one of these categories cover all of human experience, but all three are separate and necessary to explain the things that threaten who we are. Physical, spiritual and social dangers may come at any time, but we might think that we are particularly vulnerable at night, when the world is dark, and we don't know what's out there.

So perhaps we've learnt something more than why we should be careful about entering a ruin - for the world is dark and full of terrors.

Ten Times Two, as Fleeting as a Blink - Brakhot 2

Somewhat of a soft start, I feel like I've seen this daf many times. One of the challenges I see is being able to be mehadesh badavar and find something new and exciting, in old material and material that can be very technical. I'm reminded of the Harvard Education School's "Project Zero," which included a principle called "Ten Times Two." Go through a piece of artwork or a page of a text and find ten things you notice. Right as you get to ten, start over and find ten new things. So, something new I noticed was at the end of the daf, the description of "bein hashmashot":

דאמר רבי יוסי בין השמשות כהרף עין זה נכנס וזה יוצא ואי אפשר לעמוד עליו

 That contentious time of "twilight" is like the fluttering of an eye -- one time starts as the other begins.

I feel like this is an incredibly powerful way to begin a document about laws and cultural norms. We may spend considerable time debating details emphatically, but perhaps we require the humility to recognize that exact precision is as fleeting -- and as hard to pinpoint-- as the blinking of an eye.