With a concluding discussion about the erroneous ways of certain Temple priests, the Talmud presents one last swipe at the old vestiges of power, giving the last word to those who would preserve rabbinic authority over the direction of Jewish practice. If only that priest had learned Mishnah, we read, he would have known what to do. The irony, of course, is that the whimsy of minhag follows the written law no more than the priests' caprice does. Minhag is both static and dynamic, it changes with every manifestation even as we claim to uphold its continuity. And we -- the members of the Kreuzberg Kollel who have completed a full study of this chapter -- will be along for the ride.
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The Sages taught: Initially, they would designate the produce in the corner of the field from turnips and cabbages. Rabbi Yosei says: They would do so even from leeks [kaflot]. And it was taught in another baraita: They would designate the produce in the corner of the field from turnips and leeks. Rabbi Shimon says: They would do so even from cabbages. Let us say that there are three tanna’im who dispute this point: The two unattributed opinions, each of which is referring to two vegetables, and the opinion common to Rabbi Yosei and Rabbi Shimon that includes all three vegetables. The Gemara rejects this: No, there are only two tanna’im who dispute the point, and the first tanna whose opinion appears before the opinion of Rabbi Shimon is Rabbi Yosei. And the first tanna whose opinion appears before the opinion of Rabbi Yosei is Rabbi Shimon. And what is the meaning of the word even in both their statements? They agree with regard to the first vegetable, turnips; however, they disagree with regard to the second, and replace it with another vegetable. The Gemara cites an episode from the Tosefta. The Sages taught: The son of a man named Bohayan designated for the poor the produce in the corner in a garden of vegetables, and his father Bohayan found the poor laden with vegetables and standing at the opening of the garden on their way out. He said to them: My sons, cast the vegetables that you have gathered from upon yourselves and I will give you twice the amount in tithed produce, and you will be no worse off. Not because I begrudge you what you have taken. Rather, it is because the Sages say: One does not designate for the poor the produce in the corner in a garden of vegetables. Therefore, the vegetables that you took require tithing. The Gemara asks: Why was it necessary for him to say to them: Not because I begrudge you what you have taken? It would have been sufficient to offer them tithed produce. The Gemara answers that he said it so they would not say: He is putting us off, taking what we collected now, but later he will not fulfill his commitment.
We will return to you
Jeremy Borovitz
What is a minhag?
We’ve spent the last nearly 8 pages on Talmudic text trying to understand this idea of custom, the liminal space between choice and law.
There’s an old Jewish joke: If you want the Jews to keep a Halacha, make it a minhag.
We’re so tied to what we’ve inherited, how we’ve always done things. How I say my grandmother does it or my neighbor does it or my teacher does it. I don’t want to change what I’ve inherited. It may be written somewhere that I’m wrong, but I feel like I’m doing it right.
Our Perek ends with a curious set of stories about Kohanim in the Temple who were an utter disappointment to the people. They were unjust, they were unfair, they didn’t have the peoples’ best interests at heart. They were bad priests. They were bad leaders.
The final story that we hear is that of “Yissakhar of Kfar Barka, of whom it is said:he honors himself and desecrates the items consecrated to Heaven. Due to his delicate nature and his disrespect for the Temple service, he would wrap his hands in silk [shirai] and perform the service.”
Rav Steinsaltz explains that this act would invalidate the service in the Temple, because the silk was an chatziza, was a barrier, between his hands and the Temple vessels, something impermissible in these holy actions. Rav Steinsaltz further elaborates that he didn’t want to get his hands dirty! Holy work sometimes requires going through the muck.
The Gemara asks: What ultimately happened to Yissakhar of Kfar Barkai?
They said: The king and the queen were sitting. The king said that goat is better, and the queen said lamb better. They said: Who can prove the correct answer? The High Priest can, as he offers sacrifices all day.
Yissakhar of Kfar Barkai came, and when they asked him this question, he signaled dismissively with his hand and said: If goat is better, let it be sacrificed as the daily offering, instead of the normal lamb.
(An aside: It’s never a good idea to be dismissive of the questions of the King)
. The king said: Since he not only disagrees with me but has no reverence for the monarchy, sever his right hand. He gave a bribe and the official severed his left hand. The king heard that Yissakhar had deceived him and had the official sever his right hand as well. Rav Yosef said: Blessed is God Who took retribution [mitarpesei] from Yissakhar of Kfar Barkai in this world and did not wait to punish him more severely in the next world.
What’s the point of this tale? And why does it appear here?
This whole time, we’ve been talking about minhag. But maybe the point of this chapter is this: Don’t be too quick to judge the traditions, quirks, questions and idiosyncrasies of the other.
The Gemara continues:
We learned in a Mishnah: Rabbi Shimon says: Lambs take precedence over goats in every place they are mentioned in the Bible. I might have thought that this is because it is a more select species. Therefore, the verse states: “If he brings a lamb as his offering” (Leviticus 4:32). The inconsistent order teaches that both these animals are equal. Ravina said: Yissakhar did not even read the Bible properly, as it is written: “If a lamb” (Leviticus 4:32), “if a goat” (Leviticus 3:12), teaching: If one wishes let him bring a lamb; if one wishes let him bring a goat.
In fact, one could bring a goat as an offering. And had Yissakhar opened the oral law, he would have known.
How quick are we to see someone doing something different, and assume they are wrong? That’s not how you play that game. That’s not how you sing that song. That’s not how you raise children, that’s not how you find a job, that’s not how you find love. This doesn’t mean advice is bad! But it means it is inherently incomplete. Because minhag means that maybe, sometimes, people do things differently.
There are moral absolutes in our world, and there and moral absolutes in Judaism. Shabbat. Matzah. Fasting on Yom Kippur.
But sometimes there are things that aren’t clear---which means you have some power to decide. One day or two day of holiday? Do we kindle the lamp on Yom Kippur? And on the day before Passover, do we do any work at all?
Which means this commentary is actual a meta-commentary, a group of learners trying to filter the text through themselves to figure out what is their minhag, what is our minhag, what are the parts of our tradition that are uniquely our own. We’ve inherited stories and experiences that have shaped us, which means that while the words on the page and the order of the Mishnayot won’t change, we may come to different conclusions.
Thank you for learning with the Kreuzberg Kollel. We will return to you, Makom Shenahagu. We will come back and learn you again, and see how we might have changed.
הַדְרָן עֲלָךְ מָקוֹם שֶׁנָּהֲגוּ וּסְלִיקָא לַהּ פֶּסַח רִאשׁוֹן
