Today we are studying the bottom of the page, two lines from the bottom. This passage is the one framed by the inverted nuns, one before it and one after it. We will see what those inverted letters represent.
The Gemara will actually present one opinion that this passage does not belong where it appears. It belongs at the beginning of Bamidbar, where the Torah discusses the travels of the Children of Israel. Why was it taken from there and placed here? The answer is that it separates two calamities that occurred to the Jewish people. One does not want to place two calamities back to back, because that would create a strong prosecution against the Jewish people. Therefore, these two verses were placed between them as a buffer.
The Sages taught: The Holy One, blessed be He, placed signs above and below this passage to indicate that it is not in its proper place. It should have been written in the section dealing with the travels of the camps, in the beginning of Bamidbar. We are not discussing the journeys in this passage; it seems to be out of place.
However, the Gemara brings another opinion that rejects this explanation. The signs do not indicate that the passage is out of place. It belongs here, because immediately before it the Torah says, “They journeyed from the mountain of the Lord,” and the passage itself is discussing the travels. What, then, do the inverted nuns indicate? They indicate that these two verses have the status of a book unto themselves.
This means that the Torah is not divided only into the five books of Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy. According to this opinion, the Book of Numbers is divided into three books: the section before these two verses, the two verses themselves, and the section after them. The Torah therefore contains seven books.
This follows the opinion cited in the name of Rabbi Yonatan: “She carved out her seven pillars,” referring to the seven books of the Torah. The seven books are derived from the fact that this passage is considered a book unto itself. Numbers is therefore divided into three sections: the portion before the two verses, the two verses, and the portion after them.
Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel disagrees. He says that in the future this passage will be uprooted from here and written in its proper place. When the Jewish people will no longer be subject to calamities and prosecution, there will be no need to separate one calamity from another. Why, then, was it written here? In order to separate the first calamity from the second.
The Gemara first explains the second calamity, which is more obvious. The people began to complain and expressed a desire to return to Egypt. What was the first calamity? “They journeyed from the mountain of the Lord.” What was wrong with leaving Mount Sinai? Ultimately, they had to leave Mount Sinai.
According to the Babylonian Talmud, this is not understood in the same way as the explanation familiar from the Jerusalem Talmud. The Babylonian Talmud explains that the root of the later desire for meat was already present when they left Mount Sinai. The actual desire became manifest later, when they complained and said that they wanted meat, but its root began earlier.
This explains why the Torah first mentions the complainers and only afterward the people who desired meat. On the surface, the two calamities appear next to one another. The Gemara teaches that the root of the later desire was already present when they left Mount Sinai. Thus, the two calamities are represented on opposite sides: the desire for meat on one side and the complaints on the other.
Rashi explains that in the future, when the evil inclination will be eliminated, all these calamities will cease. There will be no need to worry about placing two calamities next to one another.
The root of the desire for meat was not the moment when the people actually asked for meat. That was when the desire came to fruition. Its root was the moment they left Mount Sinai. All of you are more familiar with the explanation of the Jerusalem Talmud, which says that they journeyed from the mountain of the Lord like a child running away from school.
The commentators ask: How could they be compared to a child running away from school? They traveled according to the clouds. No one left Mount Sinai even one minute early. The moment the cloud moved, they moved. How, then, can the Torah describe them as running away?
One could answer that they already had the thought that they would complain about food, but that does not explain the comparison to a child running away from school. They did not leave early, nor did they leave late. They left precisely when the cloud moved.
The explanation is that there was another time when they traveled according to the clouds: when they left Egypt. The Torah says that Moses took the people out, and the Sages derive from this that he took them out against their will. They did not want to leave because they were busy collecting the Egyptians’ money. When the cloud began to move, they asked Moses to wait one more minute so that they could collect more money.
When they reached Sinai, however, and the cloud moved, nobody asked to stay. No one said, “Let us wait another minute. Perhaps God will give us another mitzvah or another spiritual opportunity.” They were more excited to leave when money was involved than they were to leave when Torah and spirituality were involved. That attitude is described as journeying from the mountain of the Lord like a child running away from school.
This means that the first calamity was a flaw in attitude. It is an extraordinary idea: when a person has a bad attitude, that itself is considered a calamity. The second calamity was obvious; the first was hidden in the heart. If a person has the wrong attitude toward Torah, that attitude can already bring about a calamity.
Why, then, did the Torah use inverted nuns? Could it not have used any other sign? According to the Jerusalem Talmud, which compares the Jewish people to a child running away from school, the people should have been concerned that perhaps they would receive another mitzvah. They should have wanted more Torah and more spirituality.
The inverted nun teaches this idea. In Aramaic, a nun is a fish. As Rabbi Isaac Luria explains in the Friday-night song, a fish is constantly seeking more water. Even though it lives in water and rain is falling around it, it jumps out of the water to catch the drops. The last thing the fish needs is more water, yet it still wants more.
The Jewish people are compared to fish: “They shall multiply like fish.” Yaakov blessed Ephraim and Menashe that they should multiply like fish. But here the nun is inverted. Instead of yearning for more Torah, the people were satisfied with what they had. A person should never be satisfied spiritually. The inverted nun represents the opposite attitude: rather than seeking more, they were content with what they had.
Where should this passage really have been? It should have been at the beginning of the Book of Numbers, in the section dealing with the camps and their travels. That is where the Torah discusses the people traveling according to the divine command.
We now come to the topic of the day. Yesterday we learned from the Mishnah that if a fire breaks out on Shabbat, one may save sacred writings from the fire. One may even carry them to a place where there is no legal enclosure.
The Gemara asks about the blank parchment of a Torah scroll. If the writing on a Torah scroll has been erased, does one save the blank parchment because of its sanctity, or does one not save it because the writing is no longer there?
What is the case? We are discussing a Torah scroll that has become worn out. If it contains eighty-five letters, it may be saved, because eighty-five letters is the amount contained in the passage of “They journeyed.” The Gemara asks: Why do we need eighty-five letters? Let us save the scroll because of the blank parchment itself. The question seems to assume that the parchment is present even though the letters have been erased.
The Gemara answers that a worn-out scroll is different. Once the letters have disappeared, the sanctity of the parchment also disappears. The parchment received its sanctity through the letters, and once the letters are gone, the sanctity of that parchment is gone as well. Therefore, in the case of a worn-out scroll, one needs eighty-five letters in order to save it.
The Gemara then raises another possibility. Perhaps the case is not one in which the parchment itself has deteriorated. Perhaps only the letters were erased, while the parchment remains intact. In that case, one cannot answer that the parchment has become worn out. Nevertheless, the Mishnah still requires eighty-five letters. This would indicate that the parchment alone is not sufficient.
The Gemara gives an important distinction. There is no question about parchment on which letters had once been written and were then erased. In that area, the parchment received its sanctity through the letters. Once the letters are gone, the sanctity is gone.
The question concerns the blank parchment between sections, between pages, at the top and bottom of the page, and at the beginning and end of a scroll. That parchment was never sanctified through letters. It was sanctified intrinsically. Do we save such parchment from the fire?
If that were the case, the Gemara asks, why would the Mishnah require eighty-five letters? Every parchment has blank space at the top, bottom, and sides. The answer is that the case concerns a scroll that was cut. Only the portion containing the letters remains; the blank parchment at the top and bottom was removed and discarded. Therefore, the Mishnah speaks specifically about the number of letters.
At this point, the Gemara has clarified the question. We are not dealing with parchment that has become worn out. We are dealing with a Torah scroll whose letters were erased, leaving only blank parchment, including the blank areas that were never sanctified through writing. If all that remains is blank parchment, does one save it from the fire on Shabbat?
The Gemara brings another source. Blank parchment and books written by heretics are not saved from a fire. They are left to burn where they are, together with the Divine names written in them.
One might think that when the source says “blank parchment,” it refers to the blank parchment of a Torah scroll, and that such parchment therefore has no sanctity. The Gemara rejects this proof. It means that the books written by heretics have the status of blank parchment. The books themselves are not sacred, so there is no proof regarding parchment on which a Torah scroll had once been written and whose letters were subsequently erased.
Rashi explains that the books of heretics are comparable to blank parchment because they have no sanctity. The Gemara therefore remains without an answer to the original question.
This leads to a broader reflection. What is the value of parchment? The Gemara is asking whether blank parchment has value even when there are no letters on it.
There is an old segulah mentioned by Rabbi Chaim Palagi for a person who wants to have a child and is experiencing fertility problems: writing a Torah scroll. Rabbi Chaim Palagi explains that the final mitzvah in the Torah is to write a Torah scroll, while the first mitzvah is to be fruitful and multiply. One mitzvah leads to another. Writing a Torah scroll leads to the mitzvah of having children.
The kabbalistic explanation is that writing a Torah scroll represents a form of procreation. The quill, the pen, is like the masculine element; the parchment is like the feminine element that receives; and the ink is like the seed. The letters that emerge afterward are like the child. The parchment receives the ink, and the letters appear from that union.
The parchment is therefore not merely the place on which the letters happen to be written. It represents the entire body of the feminine element. In human procreation as well, the entire body is involved; it is not enough that the seed reach one particular place. The entire body is part of the process. The blank parchment, too, is part of the body of the scroll.
Rabbi Shimon Sofer asks about the expression “be fruitful and multiply.” Why does the Torah use two expressions that seem redundant? He explains that “be fruitful” means to have children, while “multiply” means to multiply oneself through one’s children. A person cannot be placed in a copying machine. The way to duplicate oneself is to have children and transmit one’s values to them.
This also explains the Mishnah’s statement: “Make for yourself a teacher and acquire for yourself a friend.” The two expressions relate to procreation. “Make for yourself a teacher” means that one should reproduce oneself spiritually, while “acquire for yourself a friend” alludes to joining the pen with the parchment in the writing of a Torah scroll. First write the Torah scroll, and then one will merit to multiply oneself through children.
All of this is an ethical and philosophical explanation. The Gemara itself, however, is not deriving the law from these ideas. The practical question remains whether blank parchment has sanctity and whether it may be saved from a fire on Shabbat.
We then discussed the books of heretics. They are not saved from a fire, even during the week. The explanation brought in the name of the Be’er Yosef is that one cuts out the Divine names from such books and places them in a repository, while the rest of the book is burned.
Why may the Divine names be burned in this case? When heretics write the Divine Name, they are not writing it with the sanctity of God’s Name. Their intention is connected to idolatry, so the letters have no sanctity.
Even if a person is being pursued by heretics, or if a snake is pursuing him, he should not run into the house of heretics. It would be safer to run into a church than into the home of heretics, because the danger posed by heretics is greater.
The reason is that heretics are people who learned and nevertheless rejected the truth. The verse says that they placed their memory behind them. They still possess a memory of the truth, but they deliberately put it behind the door and choose to forget it. This is worse than a person who never knew the truth.
The point is that one should not grant credibility to the writings of heretics. Their Divine names have no sanctity, and their books are left to burn. The Psalmist says, “Do I not hate those who hate You?” Erasing God’s Name is permitted in order to preserve peace between husband and wife; certainly, one may erase the names written by heretics, who create anger between the Jewish people and the Holy One, blessed be He.
The Gemara then discusses the place called Beit Abidan, a hall where philosophical debates took place. Rabbis would come there, and heretics would come as well. There were debates, but the heretics were dangerous. One could not assume that they were interested in an honest exchange of ideas. If someone disagreed with them, they might ultimately kill him.
Rabbi Abba did not want to go to Beit Abidan. When people asked him to come, he made excuses. He said that there was a tree there whose roots had raised the sidewalk, making it difficult for him to walk. When they offered to uproot the tree, he said that the resulting hole would make it difficult for him to reach the place. He continued giving excuses rather than explaining the true reason that he would not go.
Why did he not simply tell them the real reason? The Gemara teaches that sometimes one should give a small excuse rather than openly confront dangerous people. Another explanation is that there was an unpleasant smell coming from the place.
The people in Beit Abidan were sophisticated academics, yet they were violent toward anyone who disagreed with them. Nothing has changed. One would expect academia to be the place with the greatest tolerance for differing ideas, but we often see the opposite. When people claim to believe in freedom of speech yet attack, threaten, or silence anyone who disagrees with them, that is not a genuine search for truth.
When a person is involved in falsehood, the only way to defend his position may be through violence, because his argument has no substance. If a person has the truth, he can allow the truth to speak for itself. Avraham went to the place of Nimrod and presented his argument. When they could not defeat him verbally, they threw him into the fire. Beit Abidan still exists in different forms today.
Rabbi Yosef said that he could associate with these people and was not afraid of them, but he related that on one occasion he went to debate them and was endangered. Even their associates were not loyal. If they disliked what one said, they could turn against him.
The Gemara then relates the story of Ima Shalom, the wife of Rabbi Eliezer. There was a philosopher, meaning a heretic, in her neighborhood who was known as a judge and who claimed that he never accepted bribes.
Ima Shalom and her family decided to expose him. She gave him a golden lamp and then came before him with a legal case. Her father had died, and she asked how the inheritance should be divided between her and her brother. The judge ruled that it should be divided equally.
Rabban Gamliel objected that this contradicted Jewish law. Where there is a son, a daughter does not inherit. The judge knew the Jewish law, but because he had already accepted a bribe from Ima Shalom, he ruled in her favor.
The next day he changed his explanation. He said that he knew the Torah of Moses, but after Moses died, they no longer followed that old book. They followed a new book, and according to that book, the inheritance was divided equally.
Rabban Gamliel then came and bribed him with a donkey, a fine Libyan donkey. The judge changed his position again. He said that after reconsidering the matter, he had found a note at the end of the book stating that one may neither add to nor subtract from the Torah of Moses. Therefore, the original law applied: where there is a son, the daughter does not inherit.
Ima Shalom reminded him of the golden lamp. She said, in effect, “Let your lamp shine brightly.” The judge answered that Rabban Gamliel’s donkey had come and extinguished her lamp. His bribe was better than hers.
In this way, they exposed the judge as a fraud. He had a reputation for not accepting bribes, yet he was constantly influenced by them. He even promoted the image that he did not take bribes.
The Gemara then returns to the question of reading the Writings on Shabbat. We learned that the Writings are not read publicly on Shabbat because they are so attractive that people might continue reading them instead of attending the public discourse and halachic instruction.
One opinion says that this prohibition applies during the time of the public discourse. After the discourse, one may read the Writings. Another opinion says that in the schoolhouse they may not be read during the time of the discourse, but outside the schoolhouse they may be read. The disagreement is whether the issue is the place or the time.
According to one view, the prohibition applies only in the study hall during the time when the scholar is teaching. Outside the study hall, or after the time of the discourse, one may read the Writings. According to another view, the place makes no difference. The issue is only whether it is the time of the discourse.
This explains the custom in Nehardea, where they would read from the Writings during the afternoon meal on Shabbat. It was already after the time of the discourse, so there was no problem. The Gemara explains that Samuel was following the opinion of another Sage, not necessarily his own opinion. According to the other Sage, the Writings may not be read at all on Shabbat.
The reason given for not reading them is that people might conclude that if the sacred Writings may not be read, then ordinary letters and secular documents certainly may not be read either. This would prevent people from reading documents that are forbidden to read on Shabbat. Since that concern applies throughout the day, the prohibition would not be limited to the time or location of the discourse.
According to Samuel’s own opinion, however, the prohibition applies only during the discourse. Afterward, and especially after the meal, one may read the Writings. That is why they read them in Nehardea.
The Mishnah also discusses account books and letters. Ordinary personal letters that convey greetings may be read, but letters containing requests or business matters may not be read, because they concern matters that cannot be carried out on Shabbat and are considered ordinary documents.
The Mishnah teaches that one may save a Torah scroll together with its case, and phylacteries together with their case, even if there is money inside the phylactery case. One does not have to remove the money first. The entire case may be carried out.
Where may these objects be saved? They may be carried to a closed alley. The Gemara will explain the precise status of the enclosure. The point for now is that the case itself may be saved along with the sacred object.
Rashi explains that the case has sanctity because it holds the Torah scroll. The Ben Ish Hai derives a similar idea from the verse, “You save man and animal, Lord.” The verse places man and animal together, even though man is obviously on a higher level.
He explains that a human being consists of two parts: the body and the soul. The body may not have intrinsic sanctity, but it receives a form of sanctity through the soul it contains. Similarly, the case of the Torah scroll has sanctity because it contains the Torah scroll, just as the body has significance because it contains the soul.
When a person brings a sacrifice, the sacrifice atones for both elements: the physical body and the soul. The animal represents the physical side, while the soul rises through the fire on the altar. The sacrifice therefore provides atonement for both the spiritual and physical aspects of the person.
The Gemara then discusses a case in which the fourteenth of Nisan falls on Shabbat. The Passover offering must be prepared on Shabbat because its time has arrived. One may begin removing the hide until the chest, insert one’s hand, and remove the inner parts. The question is whether one may remove the entire hide or only the minimum necessary to remove the sacrificial parts.
Rabbi Ishmael says that one performs only the necessary amount of skinning. The purpose is to remove the sacrificial parts, and one should not perform unnecessary labor on Shabbat. The Sages, however, say that one skins the entire animal.
According to Rabbi Ishmael, the reasoning is straightforward: once the necessary work for the altar has been done, why perform additional work? According to the Sages, the principle is that everything a person does should be done for the honor of Heaven. When the Torah instructs a person to prepare the Passover offering on Shabbat, it means that it should be prepared in the normal and dignified manner, not in a way that detracts from the honor of Heaven.
Why would partially skinning the animal detract from that honor? The hide keeps the meat hot. As a result, the meat may spoil and become putrid. A partially skinned animal also resembles an animal carcass whose slaughter was invalid. If the Passover offering were left partially skinned, it would look like a carcass rather than a dignified offering.
Rashi explains that the offering should not appear like something disgusting on the table of the King. The concern is not only the appearance. On a windy day, the air may pass through the partially skinned animal and cause the meat to spoil. The Gemara refers to an easterly wind, and some say a southerly wind, as particularly capable of causing spoilage. Such a wind is so severe that even seed in a woman’s womb may become spoiled.
Rabbi Ishmael must respond to the principle that everything should be done for the honor of Heaven. Why does he not permit the entire animal to be skinned? He answers that the honor of Heaven requires that one remove the sacrificial parts respectfully. One should not simply make an incision and pull them out through a small opening. Rather, one should perform enough skinning to remove them properly. But that does not prove that the entire animal must be skinned.
There is also a concern that if one removes the sacrificial parts without skinning the animal, hairs from the hide may become attached to them. That would not be a respectful preparation. Rabbi Ishmael therefore requires the minimum amount of skinning needed to remove the sacrificial parts cleanly.
The Gemara then asks what proof the Sages brought to Rabbi Ishmael. They cited the Mishnah’s ruling that one saves a Torah scroll together with its case. The case itself is not sacred in the same way as the scroll, yet it may be carried because it serves the scroll. Similarly, they argued, one should be able to perform the additional skinning because it serves the sacred offering.
The Gemara rejects the comparison. In the case of the Torah scroll, the case is a base for both something permitted and something prohibited: it holds the scroll, which may be carried, and money, which may not be carried. The case is therefore a base for a permitted object and a prohibited object. In the case of the Passover offering, the hide and the meat are connected to a matter that is prohibited at that time.
The meat cannot yet be eaten. It may be eaten only at night and only after it has been roasted. Until then, it is not available for ordinary use. The hide itself has no use either. It cannot even be used as a table covering in the way that the hide of a large animal might be used. Therefore, the hide is a base for something prohibited, and it is itself considered unusable.
The Gemara says that there are actually two separate disagreements. The first concerns the skinning itself: Rabbi Ishmael requires only partial skinning, while the Sages permit or require complete skinning in honor of Heaven. The second concerns what is done with the animal after the sacrificial parts have been removed.
Rabbi Ishmael says that the remaining animal is left where it is, even in the sun. The Sages say that it may be moved. The Sages challenge Rabbi Ishmael: If the Mishnah permits one to carry a case containing money because of the sacred object inside it, why may one not move the meat together with the hide in order to protect the offering from spoilage?
The answer is that the cases are not identical. The Torah case is a base for both a permitted object and a prohibited object. The Passover offering, however, is connected entirely to something that is prohibited at that moment. The meat is not yet edible, and the hide has no independent use. Therefore, it cannot be moved in the same manner.
The Gemara further distinguishes between an object that is a base for a permitted object and an object that is a base for a prohibited object. The case of the Torah scroll remains a permitted vessel because it holds the scroll, even though money is also inside. The hide of the Passover offering is itself unusable and serves only as a covering for meat that is not yet permitted.
We will continue tomorrow with the issue of spoilage and examine the precise reasoning behind the disagreement. The question is whether concern for the honor of Heaven permits the additional work and the moving of the offering, or whether the hide and meat remain prohibited because of their status at that time.