The Talmud Bavli teaches that anything used for idolatry, or anything that served as an object of idolatry, becomes prohibited for benefit. The verse says, “You shall not bring an abomination into your house,” and it also says, “Nothing of the banned thing shall cling to your hand.” From this we learn that anything used for idolatry is prohibited.
Our Mishnah discusses different statues. Some are used for decorative purposes, while others become prohibited as a result of idolatrous worship. The term “statue” refers to an image resembling a person, or to an image or sculpture of something else.
The Mishnah says that all such images are prohibited for benefit if they are worshipped even once a year. In other words, even statues made solely for decorative purposes become prohibited if the people of that place have a yearly holiday during which they worship them. Since they worship them at least once a year, one may not benefit from them.
Rabbi Meir says that the statue is prohibited only when it is holding a staff, a bird, a bull, or another object of that kind. If the statue is holding something in its hand, that is already a sign that it was made for worship. The other statues are permitted because they were made only for decorative purposes. The Mishnah is not limited to a bird or a bull; a snake or another object may also serve as the sign that the statue was intended for idolatry.
The Gemara asks: If the people worship these statues once a year, what are the Sages adding when they say that only a statue holding a staff, a bird, or a bull is prohibited? It sounds as though the Sages are not disputing the fact that the statues are worshipped once a year. They are merely saying that one must identify a particular sign, such as the object in the statue’s hand.
The answer is that the Mishnah is discussing different places. In a place where it is known that the people worship the statues once a year, everyone agrees that they are prohibited. In a place where only a minority of people worship them, Rabbi Meir is concerned about that minority. He is famous for being concerned even about a minority practice; he always takes the minority possibility into account. He is therefore concerned that if one permits the statues in another place where only a minority worships them, people may come to permit them in his own place, where the practice is widespread.
The Sages, however, do not take the minority into account. Therefore, in a place where the practice is carried out by a minority, they do not prohibit the statues on that basis.
It follows that there are three cases. In a place where it is known that the statues are worshipped once a year, both Rabbi Meir and the Sages prohibit them. In an ordinary place where it is not known whether they are worshipped, Rabbi Meir is concerned about the minority practice, whereas the Sages follow the majority and permit them. Finally, in a place where it is known that the statues are not worshipped once a year, Rabbi Meir still imposes a decree because there may be a minority that does worship them, while the Sages permit them because it is certain that the practice is not carried out there.
That is a major innovation. Even in a place where we know that they do not worship the statues, Rabbi Meir extends the decree because of a minority possibility, while the Sages do not make such a decree.
All of this refers to a particular kind of statue: the statue of a king. When a king died, they would make a statue of him and place it at the gates of the city. They would worship such statues once a year because of their love and honor for the king. Other statues were made merely for decorative purposes.
These statues were generally placed at the entrance to the city. The entrance was considered a conspicuous and important location, and people might bow down to the statue there. If the statue was placed in a less conspicuous location, it was more likely to have been made only for decorative purposes and not for worship.
There is another limitation to the dispute. In the villages, everyone agrees that the statues are permitted, because they were certainly made only for decorative purposes. The dispute applies to the large cities.
One might ask whether the opposite should be true. Perhaps in the villages they made statues for worship, while in the large cities they made them only for decoration. The answer is that the statement is understood as follows: in the villages, they did not make statues for decorative purposes; they made them for worship. In the large cities, however, they made statues for decorative purposes.
The Sages say that the statue is prohibited only when it is holding a staff, a bird, a bull, or a similar object. What does the staff represent? It indicates that the king rules over the entire world under his staff. Whatever is beneath the staff is under his authority, as though he were a god.
The bird represents the fact that he is above the entire world. A bird flies over the world, and the world is beneath it. That is the symbol conveyed by the bird in the statue’s hand.
The bull represents the same idea. It is as though the king is holding the world in his hand, carrying the world like a ball. The statue indicates that he has sovereignty over everything.
The Gemara then teaches that there are additional objects with the same significance: a sword, a crown, and a signet ring. At first, one might think that a sword merely indicates that the figure is a robber or a bandit. The explanation, however, is that the sword indicates, “I can kill the entire world,” and therefore represents divine power or sovereignty.
At first, one might think that the crown is merely decorative. The Gemara explains that it is the crown of a king, demonstrating that the figure possesses sovereignty. Similarly, one might initially think that the ring indicates that the figure is merely holding the seal of someone who sent him. The explanation is instead that he is holding the signet representing authority over everyone, even the power to issue a death sentence.
Anything that the statue holds in its hand can therefore serve as a sign that it was worshipped. Even a rock or a piece of wood may have this significance. What does a rock or a piece of wood represent? It may indicate that the entire world is insignificant to the king, like a rock or a piece of wood. The world is nothing in comparison with his greatness.
A question was raised: Perhaps the symbolism is the opposite. Perhaps the king himself was insignificant in the eyes of the rest of the world, like a piece of wood. Why, then, would they place such an object on his head or in his hand? The answer is that they treated him like that object; the object represented the way they regarded him. This was the point being made.
Let us return to the Mishnah and clarify the entire discussion. First, the Mishnah discussed different objects that are worshipped. Rabbi Meir said that they are prohibited when they are worshipped once a year, while the Sages said that they are prohibited only when they are holding an object such as a staff, a bird, or a bull.
Then we discussed the restriction based on location. In a place where they worship the statues once a year, everyone agrees that they are prohibited. In a place where only a minority worships them, Rabbi Meir is concerned about the minority, whereas the Sages are not. In a place where no one worships them, Rabbi Meir nevertheless makes a decree based on the possibility that a minority does so, while the Sages have no concern.
The next limitation was stated by Yehudah. He said that the discussion applies only to statues of kings, the statues placed at the entrances to cities. The statues under discussion are those that can become prohibited through worship.
There is a statement that seems to dispute this. However, when a statement begins by saying, “So-and-so said,” it may not be coming to argue with what preceded it. It may be adding another detail. The question is how to understand the statement: Is it disagreeing with the earlier teaching, or is it merely adding another category?
One interpretation is that it is not disputing the earlier teaching. Rather, since kings’ statues were worshipped in one particular place, Rabbi Meir imposed a decree on all statues of kings in other places as well, even when they were not worshipped there. The decree extends from one king’s statue to the statues of kings in other places.
Another statement, attributed to bar bar Hanan, further limits the ruling. It says that the concern applies only in the city of Medina, and only to statues of kings that stand at the gates of the city. Rabbi Meir was concerned about statues at the city gate, even when they were not worshipped there, because the gate was a conspicuous and important location. A statue of a king elsewhere in the city would not be subject to the same decree.
This statement may be understood as a continuation of the earlier teaching: the matter of the king’s statue applies only when it stands at the city gate. Others understand it as a disagreement. According to that interpretation, the issue has nothing specifically to do with a king’s statue. Any statue standing at the city gate is prohibited, whether or not it represents a king.
According to the second interpretation, when the earlier teaching says that the concern applies to the king’s statue, it means that the statue stands in front of the gate; it does not necessarily mean that it belongs to the king. The Sages would still say that in a place where such statues are actually worshipped, they are prohibited, but they would not make a decree for places where they are not worshipped.
The question of whether the statue is holding an object remains separate. The requirement that it hold a staff, a bird, a bull, or another object is discussed independently. We will return to that point.
Another teaching says that the dispute applies in the villages and not in the cities. According to one understanding, in the villages they certainly make the statues for idolatry, not for decoration. In the cities, however, they make them for decorative purposes.
Once this interpretation is accepted, the Gemara’s question becomes understandable. If the villages are places where they certainly worship the statues, why would Rabbi Meir need to make a decree concerning them? Rabbi Meir’s decree applies where there is a concern that they may worship the statue; the village itself is already a place where they definitely worship it. Thus, the villages are not merely a case included through a decree; they are the primary case.
The Sages, on the other hand, do not impose a decree in a place where the practice is not established. Their ruling applies only where the statue is actually worshipped. Again, the question of whether the statue is holding an object is a separate matter.
Now we come to the next Mishnah, which discusses broken statues. What is meant by broken statues? A statue is an image, and the Mishnah refers to pieces found from a broken image.
Rav Ashi explains an important point in the Mishnah. Even when the statue was originally whole, there is uncertainty whether it was worshipped. That may be why it was broken. If the idol was broken because the people recognized that it was useless, then perhaps they had already worshipped it and subsequently broke it. Therefore, there is uncertainty whether it was worshipped while whole, and the broken pieces are permitted.
This is the general reasoning: we are uncertain whether the object was worshipped, and we are also uncertain whether it was nullified. Even if one suggests that it was worshipped, the fact that it was broken may mean that the worshippers nullified it. The status of the idolatrous object may therefore have been removed.
There is, however, a distinction between ordinary broken pieces and a hand or a leg of the statue. If one finds merely a piece of the statue, that piece may be permitted. But if one finds an image of a hand or an image of a leg, that is considered a significant form in its own right. They may have worshipped the hand or the leg separately, just as one would worship a complete image. It is therefore not treated like an ordinary broken fragment, and the uncertainty described above does not apply in the same way.
Some find an indication of this idea in the verse that describes idols as having “their legs” and “their hands.” The wording does not merely say that the idol has legs or hands as part of a larger structure; it can be understood as referring to their legs and their hands individually. This suggests that the hand or leg can be regarded as an object worshipped in its own right.
The Gemara then quotes Shmuel: even broken pieces of an actual idolatrous object are permitted. Shmuel is teaching more than the Mishnah. The Mishnah refers to broken statues whose status is uncertain, but Shmuel says that even if the object was certainly worshipped, once it is broken it is permitted for benefit.
What is the reasoning? Once the object is broken, the worshippers no longer worship it. Its idolatrous status has been removed. Therefore, even if one saw the people worshipping the object before it broke, once it broke, it is permitted.
One might ask why the Mishnah chose the case of a statue whose status is uncertain. Why did it not teach the greater innovation that even a certainly worshipped object becomes permitted once it breaks? The answer is that the Mishnah could not have taught that point in the same wording. It therefore chose the case of uncertainty, while Shmuel teaches the greater ruling.
The Mishnah also says that if one finds the form of a hand or the form of a leg, the object is prohibited because these forms themselves were worshipped. The Gemara explains that if the Mishnah had initially taught only the case of an actual idolatrous object, one might have understood that a hand or leg taken from such an object is prohibited, because the object was certainly worshipped. But if the hand or leg came from an ordinary statue whose status was uncertain, one might have thought that it was permitted. Therefore, the Mishnah specifically mentions statues in order to teach the stricter ruling in the later clause.
Thus, the general pieces of a broken statue are permitted, because perhaps the statue was never worshipped, and even if it was worshipped, perhaps breaking it constituted nullification. But a hand or leg that was fashioned as an independent form is prohibited, because that form may itself have been worshipped.
The Gemara’s question can be understood in a straightforward manner. The first part of the Mishnah says that broken pieces of statues are permitted, while the next part says that a broken hand or a broken leg is prohibited. What is the distinction? The answer is that a fragment lying on the ground is merely a broken piece. But when the hand or leg is placed on a pedestal or platform, as though it were an important object, it is treated as a significant form and may have been worshipped independently.
There is another way to formulate the Gemara’s question. Shmuel has just taught that even broken pieces of an actual idolatrous object are permitted. If so, why would a broken hand or leg be prohibited? The answer is that the hand or leg is not merely a fragment that happened to break off and lie on the ground. It was fashioned as an independent object and placed on a pedestal. Although it is physically broken, it still appears as a complete and significant form. That is why it remains prohibited.
The Gemara then discusses an idolatrous object that broke on its own. Suppose it fell from a ledge and broke without the people intentionally breaking it. One opinion says that it remains prohibited, because the non-Jewish worshippers did not explicitly nullify it. The fact that it broke does not necessarily mean that they declared it worthless. Since there was no deliberate nullification, the object retains its status as an idolatrous object.
Rabbi Shimon ben Menasya says that it is permitted. His reasoning is that the worshippers presumably nullified it. They might say, “If this object cannot save itself, how can it save us?” If the object could not protect itself from falling and breaking, there is no reason to continue worshipping it. Its accidental breaking therefore indicates that they no longer regard it as worthy of worship.
The Gemara raises a challenge from the story of the Philistines and the Ark of the Covenant. The Philistines placed the Ark in the temple of Dagon, their idol. When they arose in the morning, Dagon had fallen from its pedestal and was broken. The verse describes its head, hands, and legs as having been cut off. The priests of Dagon therefore did not walk on the threshold, because that was where the idol had fallen.
This appears to show that even when an idol breaks on its own, the worshippers still consider it sacred. If they regarded Dagon as worthless after it fell, why would they refrain from walking over the threshold where it had fallen?
The Gemara answers that this does not prove that they continued to regard Dagon itself as sacred. Rather, they may have said that when Dagon fell, its power moved to the threshold. Since the idol fell on the threshold, they treated the threshold as a new object of worship. They were not necessarily honoring the broken idol; they were avoiding the threshold because they now regarded it as a new form of idolatry.
The Gemara raises another question from the Mishnah. The Mishnah says that broken pieces of statues are permitted. One might infer that broken pieces of actual idolatrous objects are prohibited. If so, how can Rabbi Shimon ben Menasya say that an idolatrous object that broke on its own is permitted?
The Gemara rejects that inference. The Mishnah does not mean that broken pieces of actual idolatrous objects are prohibited. Rather, it means that a complete statue is prohibited, while a broken statue is permitted. The Mishnah is following Rabbi Meir’s position: a complete statue is prohibited because we assume that it was worshipped, whereas broken pieces are permitted.
According to Rabbi Meir, a complete statue has the status of an idol, but its broken pieces do not. According to the Sages, a regular statue does not automatically have that status; only an actual idolatrous object is prohibited. Nevertheless, even according to the Sages, once an actual idolatrous object breaks, its pieces are permitted.
The Gemara then asks: If this is the explanation, the same reasoning should apply to the Sages. Rabbi Meir says that a complete statue is prohibited and its broken pieces are permitted. The Sages do not consider a complete statue prohibited, but they do consider an actual idolatrous object prohibited. Accordingly, one should say that an actual idolatrous object is prohibited, but its broken pieces are permitted.
The answer is that the two cases cannot be compared. In the case of a statue, perhaps it was worshipped and perhaps it was not. Even if it was worshipped, perhaps breaking it constituted nullification. There are therefore two uncertainties: perhaps it was not worshipped, and perhaps it was nullified.
In the case of an actual idolatrous object, however, we know that it was worshipped. Even if it broke, who says that the worshippers nullified it? It remains a matter of certainty that it had been worshipped, and breaking it does not necessarily remove that status. One cannot use an uncertainty to remove something known with certainty.
The Gemara challenges this principle from another case. If a Torah scholar dies and leaves behind a pile or basket of produce that he had just gathered, the produce is presumed to have been properly tithed, even if it has been only a short time since it was gathered. Since he was a Torah scholar, we assume that he did not leave produce in his possession without taking care of its required tithes.
But here, too, there appears to be a certainty and an uncertainty. The produce is certainly presumed to be untithed, while there is an uncertainty whether the scholar tithed it before he died. Why, then, may it be treated as permitted? Does this not show that an uncertainty can remove something that was presumed certain?
The answer is that there is no true certainty in that case. Perhaps the scholar had already tithed the produce. Since he was careful and did not leave something requiring correction in his possession, we presume that he had taken care of it. The fact that he died soon afterward does not change that presumption.
The Gemara offers another possibility. Perhaps the produce was brought into the house before the final stage that creates the full obligation of tithes. The Torah obligation takes effect only after the processing is completed and the produce reaches the relevant stage. If the grain was brought into the house while it still had its chaff, and the final processing was completed inside the house, there may not yet be a Torah-level obligation in the same way.
The Sages may have imposed an obligation at that stage, but from the Torah’s perspective it may not yet be fully classified as untithed produce. There is therefore uncertainty whether the produce was actually subject to the obligation, and uncertainty whether the scholar had already taken the tithes. This is not a case of uncertainty removing certainty; it is uncertainty confronting uncertainty.
For example, if the produce was processed outside and then brought into the house, it would have a different status. But perhaps it was brought inside while the chaff was still attached, and the final processing was done indoors. In that case, even if the produce was visible in the house, it may not have reached the Torah-defined stage of obligation. Since we do not know how the process occurred, there is no absolute certainty that it was untithed.
The Gemara brings another case involving an object thrown into a pit. Someone threw a piece of wood, or perhaps a sack, into a pit, and then an animal came and stood near the opening. The question was whether the object inside the pit was a carcass that could impart ritual impurity.
The verse discusses whether the object was male or female, because the period of impurity for the mother differs depending on whether she gave birth to a boy or a girl. The discussion therefore examines what was inside the pit.
There were weasels and other animals in the pit. The Sages said that one need not be concerned, because these animals may have eaten the object. This seems to be another case in which there was certainty that something had been placed in the pit, while there was uncertainty whether the animals had removed or eaten it. Yet the Sages did not maintain that the original certainty required us to continue treating it as present.
The Gemara answers that even the original fact was uncertain. We did not know what had been thrown into the pit. It may have been an empty sack or an ordinary piece of wood; we did not know that it was a carcass. If it was not a carcass, there was no question of impurity at all. The entire matter was therefore uncertain from the outset.
Even if something had been placed there, we do not know whether it was the object that could create impurity. The animals may have eaten it, or it may never have been such an object in the first place. Therefore, this case also involves uncertainty confronting uncertainty, not uncertainty removing a known certainty.
The general principle remains that an uncertainty does not remove a certainty. Where there is a genuine certainty that an object was worshipped, the mere fact that it broke does not necessarily constitute nullification. But where the object was only possibly worshipped, or where there is uncertainty about whether it was ever subject to the relevant status, the broken pieces may be permitted.