Mo'ed Katan (Minor Festival), daf (page) 27. We begin today's daf on 26b, five lines from the bottom. We're talking about the se'udat havra'ah, the first se'udah (meal) that friends give the avelim (mourners). So the Gemara says, Tanu Rabbanan (The Rabbis taught): Haholech leveit ha'avel. A person goes to the house of mourning in order to menachem (to comfort) the avelim and to provide him with the se'udat havra'ah, the first meal. Im hayah libo gas bo means he's friendly with the menachem. He's his friend; they have a relationship. Yavruhu (they provide him a meal): the avelim let the menachem join them in the se'udat havra'ah, al mitot kefuyot (on overturned beds). They sit with them on the floor, with the tables upside down. Since he's their friend, they join him in the meal in the normal way they eat it, with the tables upside down. They're not going to be offended; they're friends, they're close.
Ve'im lav, but if the person providing the se'udat havra'ah is really not so close to the avel, they yavruhu al mitot zekufot (on upright beds). He can have the se'udat havra'ah with the avelim, but they put him at a regular table, rather than having him sit on the floor with them. I guess since the love between the two is not so strong, he's going to be makpid. He says, “What, you put me on the floor over here?” And he's going to say, “I'm not sitting. You'll sit.” But if a person is close, then it's okay.
So the Gemara tells a story about this. Rava had a case of avelut (mourning). Abba bar Marta, who was Abba bar Minyumi, came to visit him and give him nechamah (consolation), at the time of giving out the se'udah. Rava zakif: Rava put the chair they were sitting on upright. I guess he wasn't so close to this rabbi, so he didn't want to give him this se'udat havra'ah while he was sitting on the floor. Abba bar Marta kafeh: Abba bar Marta overturned the bed, as if to say he was close with him. So amar (he said), “Kamah leit beh da'ata lehai tzurba merabbanan.” This young scholar has no understanding. He says, “I'm putting it up because we're not so close, and he thinks we're close, so he's turning it over? He doesn't know what I'm doing. I'm doing it because that's the halachah.”
Tanu Rabbanan: Avel haholech mimmakom lemakom (A mourner traveling from place to place). Okay, what if it happens that he's an avel and, I guess, he's traveling? How could he be traveling? Ah, while he was traveling. While he was... What happened? “Like the shell game, which one, why drink?” So I don't get... The Gemara says, im yachol lema'et be'isko, yema'et; ve'im lav, yegalgel imahen. Aha, which is what happened: the guy's traveling, and in the middle of the trip they tell him he's an avel. So now what's going to happen? Im yachol lema'et be'isko: if he's able to minimize his business dealings, yema'et, like a regular avel. I guess that's it: in that city where he is, let him stop doing business. Ve'im lav, if he's unable to minimize his business because, I guess, he's there in that place, he doesn't go back there, and the business is cheap, he'll get a deal, so he doesn't have to stop his business. Oh! So what should he do? Yegalgel imahen: let him do business with them. Wow, so what, we're letting a guy do business during avelut?
We learned earlier that an avel cannot do business. Now we're saying the guy heard about it when he was away; he was in the show in Vegas, and they told him, “Oh, he's an avel.” He's already in the show. Sounds like from here, all right, listen, you're there already; the show is this week, and you're going to lose out. So the mefarshim explain, shedin zeh beholech... (for this rule concerning one who travels) baderech ba lehakeil (comes to be lenient) ve'af be'avelut al aviv o imo, hitiro lo lischor im benei chaburah (They permitted him to trade with his group) kevan sheholech baderech, uve'avelut al she'ar kerovav kal yoter (more lenient) ve'eino tzarich lema'et klal bischorah. No, I mean, this is a leniency for a mother or father on the road, because he was on the road anyway. But for a regular avel, according to this opinion, they'll let him do regular business.
Shedin zeh ba lehachmir. Oh, some say, no, it's coming to be stringent. What does that mean? Shedin zeh ba lehachmir alav, shekevan sheholech baderech, eino noheg avelut kol kach, ela mitnachem yoter. When he's on the road, he doesn't observe avelut so intensely, because, I guess, he's busy, because he's traveling. Ulefikach hechemiru alav af be'avelut al she'ar hakerovim, ve'asur leharbot be'isko yoter me'adam sheyoshev beveito ve'eino mitnachem. That is, even for other relatives, besides the mother and father, it is forbidden to increase his business more than for a person sitting at home who is not comforted. All different types of interpretations. Is it mother and father, or not mother and father? But what's the case here? We're letting the guy be lenient and work. So it says, sheharei kevar holich otah vetarach bah; velo pasha bahalichato. He already brought his merchandise to the show, and he didn't make an avon (sin) by going; it was permissible to go, sheharei lo yada sheyeshev beveito veyishbot mischorah. He didn't know he was going to be an avel.
Is this halachah? He goes to China or something, yeah. I don't see the halachah. Oh, yeah. Open up. We have to open up a Yoreh De'ah (Teaching of Knowledge). Oh, we'll have to check this out in halachah. If you want to get it... Yeah, it's shin-pei. What halachah? 23. I'd like to see this halachah anyway. Tanu Rabbanan. Oh, we have it in the back. Okay. Tanu Rabbanan: Me'eimatai kofin et hamitot? When do they turn over the beds? We learned to turn over the beds for avelim. Misheyatza mipetach beito: once they take the met out of the front door. That's it: once they take him out of the house, they begin avelut and turn over the beds. Divrei Rabbi Eliezer. Rabbi Yehoshua says, misheyistam hagolel: when they seal the coffin and bury him.
Ma'aseh shemet Raban Gamliel Hazaken, the great rabbi. When they took him out of the house, Rabbi Eliezer said to them, Kefu mitoteichem: turn over your beds. Once they sealed the coffin, Rabi Yehoshua said to them, Kefu mitoteichem. So the other rabbi thought, okay, turn over the beds. They told him, “Amru lo, kevar kafinu”: We already turned them over, al pi zaken, according to what Rabbi Eliezer said.
Tanu Rabbanan: Me'eimatai zokfin et hamitot (From when do they set the beds upright?)? Be'erev Shabbat min haminchah ulemalah. Okay, Erev Shabbat means there is no avelut on Shabbat. On Erev Shabbat, you're allowed to turn the beds back upright. So when do they do that? From Minchah time onward. You don't have to wait until sunset. Rabbah bar Rav Huna said, af al pi chen eino yoshev aleha ad shetechshach: nevertheless, he shouldn't sit on the bed itself until Shabbat actually begins. Ulemotza'ei Shabbat (Saturday night), now they return to avelut. Even if he has only one day left to sit, chozer vechofeh (he returns and overturns it): he returns and overturns it. Which means, let's say Sunday is the seventh day of avelut. Don't be lenient and say, “Well, I'm not turning the beds back over. I'm not going to ruin all the furniture for one day.” It doesn't matter. Even though Sunday is the last day of avelut, on Motza'ei Shabbat you have to turn all the beds upside down. You know he's getting up Sunday morning. He gets up for one hour Sunday morning; it doesn't matter.
Tanu Rabbanan: Hakofeh mitato, the person who turns his bed over, lo mitato bilvad hu kofeh, not only his bed does he overturn, ela kol mitot sheyesh lo betoch beito hu kofeh: he overturns all the beds in his house. Ve'afilu yesh lo eser mitot be'asarah mekomot—ten beds in ten rooms—kofeh et kulam. Ve'afilu chamishah achim, even five brothers, umet echad, one dies, kulam kofin. Which means everybody in his own personal house—even though they're sitting in one house—when they go home, everybody has to turn over the beds in their own house.
Ve'im haitah mitah hameyuchedet lekelim, ein tzarich lechafotah. If it's a table they put vessels on and don't sleep on, they don't have to turn it over. Dargash is a type of table. Ein tzarich lechfoto: you don't have to turn it over, ela zokfo. They can just put it on two legs and lean it against the wall. Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel says, dargash matir et karbitav: a dargash has straps tied to it. Yes, the straps hold the plank on top. You undo the straps, and vehu nofel me'eilav: it falls by itself.
What is a dargash? Let's see if we have a Rashi on dargash. Okay, mai dargash? We'll see if we have an interpretation. Ulla said, arsa degada. It's a type of bed that used to be for mazal. Gada means mazal. They used to leave a certain bed in the house that they thought brought them mazal. You don't put anything on it; it's not functional. It just stays in the house for mazal tov. So they have to undo the straps of that table just so it falls apart.
Rava said to him, ela me'atah (if so), gabei melech. In Masechet Sanhedrin, detnan (as we learned): when a king, God forbid, becomes an avel, kol ha'am mesubin al ha'aretz, everybody sits on the floor, vehu meisav al hadargash, and he sits on the dargash. So it sounds like a dargash is a chair. It doesn't sound like it's a table for mazal tov. You're saying he sits on the dargash. Mi ika midi de'ad heidana lo otbinei vehashta motbinan lei? Which means, he never sat on this table before, and now you're putting the king on the table? It's not kavod.
And now the Gemara says—so the Gemara says, what are you talking about? Rav Ashi objected: Matkif lah Rav Ashi, mai kushya? Midi dahavei a'achilah ushtiyah. It's like the eating of the se'udah: de'ad heidana lo ochlinei velo ashkinei, until this point nobody ever feeds the king; hashta ochlinei ve'ashkinei, but now we feed him. That's the din of the se'udah rishonah. Which means that here we do things differently. Normally the king eats his own food. Don't we change the status of eating and drinking during aveilut? We feed the avel from our own stuff. That's not normal for a king. So, too, this table normally isn't sat on, but for shinui he sits on it during aveilut. What's the problem?
Ela ei kashya, ha kashya: rather, if you want to ask a question, ask a question. Detanya: we learned that a dargash ein tzarich lechpoto. You don't have to turn the dargash upside down; ela zokfo, you just stand it upright against the wall. Ve'i arsa degada: if, as you tell me, it's just a table for good luck, amai ein tzarich lechpoto? Why don't you have to turn it over? Ha tanya: we learned in a beraita, hacofeh mitato, lo mitato bilvad hu kofeh, ela kol mitot sheyesh betoch beito kofeh. You have to turn over all the beds. Did they make a chiluk between what type of bed it is—is it a mazal bed or a sleeping bed? So what, you should have to turn it over completely.
The Gemara says, umai kashya, midi dahavei amitah hameyuchedet lekeilim. What do you mean? You don't have to turn over all the beds. A mitah that you put vessels on, for example, is not designated for sleeping. We said you don't have to turn it over: detanya, im haytah mitah meyuchedet lekeilim, ein tzarich lechpotah. So just as you don't have to turn over the mitah designated for keilim, you don't have to turn over the dargash.
So the Gemara—okay. Ela ei kashya, ha kashya. The Gemara is struggling to understand what the question is. There's a question here, but the Gemara keeps rejecting it. Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel says, dargash matir karbitav: you just have to take off the straps, vehu nofel me'eilav, and it falls apart. Ve'i salka da'atach arsa degada: if you tell me it's this table of mazal, mai karbitin it lei? What straps? What is it talking about? There are no straps here. It's a solid table. So if you tell me it has these straps, then it must be something else.
When Ravin came from Eretz Yisrael (Land of Israel), amar lei hahu merabanan, a certain rabbi said to him: Rav Tachlifa bar Ma'arava was his name, and he was frequently at the marketplace of the tanners, the ratz'anim, the leather makers. Mai dargash? He's asking, “What is a dargash?” Arsa detzala. What's arsa detzala? It's a leather bed. You sleep on the piece of leather, and it has straps, as we said. They tie the straps to its frame, I guess, and I guess this is a bed that the chashuv people, the princes, take. I guess they take it apart; it's a portable bed, and when they travel, they take it with them. Oh, and that's what karbitav means: it has straps. So you don't have to turn this thing upside down; you have to take the straps off and let it fall. That's what we're talking about.
Or, I have a picture of it. You want to see a picture of it? It says you could just put it against the wall. Okay, this one over here? Yeah, there. Very good. You're seeing the straps on the side? Yeah. You just undo the straps, and the leather piece falls to the floor. Some say that's enough, or some say, “Is there the one that...” This one. Okay, there's the ladder. And then you just put it up against the wall. Okay. Fine, so it's not a mazal bed. It's a bed of—okay.
Again, this is really not so nogea. Baruch Hashem, we don't really practice kefiyat hamitah. In avelut today, they don't turn over beds. Itmar (it was stated), or amar Rabbi Yirmeyah: a dargash, seirugo mitocho. Right, it's inside. The weaving where they put the mattress is on the inside of the frame, like you see in the picture. However, a mitah, seirugah al gabah: a bed's weaving is on the outside of the frame. Yeah, one is indented, and one is on the outside. That's the difference between a mitah and a dargash.
Rabbi Yaakov bar Acha said in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi, halachah ke-Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel. What does that mean? You don't have to turn over the dargash; ela, you just have to take off the straps. And Rabbi Yaakov bar Acha said in the name of Rabbi Assi, mitah shenakliteha yotze'in, zokfah vedayo. Vedayo. Oh, the naklitei hamitah, as we learned in Masechet Sukkah (Tractate Sukkah): you have a bed with poles that go up and across, and they put, let's say, a sheet over them, making it like a canopy bed. So you can't turn that over; it has these poles coming out of it. It's enough just to turn it on its side and put it against the wall. Did they give a picture of the naklitim bed over there as well? Correct. Correct.
Tanu Rabbanan. Okay. Yashen al gabei chisei: the avel himself sleeps on a chair, al gabei udyanei. Udyanei, I guess, is the mortar where they crush the spices, gadol, a big one that he can sit on, al gabei karka, on the ground. Lo yatza yedei chovato. What do you mean, he didn't fulfill his obligation? Rabbi Yochanan said, shelo kiyem kefiyat hamitah. Which means, don't think that because he sleeps on the floor, he doesn't have to turn over the beds. Which is worse. Right, one— they said, exactly, “I'm sleeping on the floor.” It doesn't matter; the bed has to be turned over according to halachah. One thing doesn't exempt him from the other thing. Huh? Yeah. Yeah, the Gemara makes a big deal out of it.
Tanu Rabbanan: mechabedin u'marbitzin beveit ha'avel. Aha. Are you allowed to clean the mourner's house? The halachah says you're allowed to sweep the floor in the beit ha'avel, and they're allowed to mezalef. They used to pour water on the floor to keep the dust from coming up, and then they clean it up. Why? I guess that's the derech, the customary way to do it. You don't want to have a dusty house. That's not considered painting or putting up wallpaper; you're cleaning the house.
U'madichin ke'arot vechosot u'tzlochiyot, ve kitoniyot beveit ha'avel. You're allowed to do the dishes, and the kitoniyot are the water jugs. That's for the se'udah. At the end of the se'udah, they clean the dishes. Ve'ein mevi'in et hamugmar: at the end of the se'udah they used to bring coals with a smell on them. That already is too much. Yeah, like incense after the se'udah. Ve'et habesamim leveit ha'avel. That's already—looks like he's enjoying himself. He's adorning himself with besamim; that's too much already.
Ini? Huh? The avelim? Oh, who could do this, exactly? It doesn't matter who does it. Maybe, some say, the avelim themselves, because that's considered a normal practice. Ini, we have a contradiction. Vehatani Bar Kappara: ein mevarchin lo al hamugmar velo al habesamim beveit ha'avel. Oh, on Motza'ei Shabbat, it says they need besamim, but they don't make a berachah over these items. You don't make a berachah on mugmar, because the rule for besamim is that you only make a berachah on besamim meant to provide a smell, not to get rid of a bad smell. One reason they bring mugmar is to get rid of a smell; it's like, as they say, deodorant, an air freshener.
So what do you see from here? Beruchi hu delo mevarchinan ha atuyei mayteinan. It sounds like they bring it to the beit ha'avel; they just don't make a berachah on it. You just said a second ago that you don't bring it at all. Lo kashya (There is no contradiction): ha beveit ha'avel, ha beveit menachamin (house of the comforters). Which means, in the beit ha'avel, where the met is still there, you have to bring the mugmar to get the smell away. That's okay. Once they take the met out, there's no problem with the smell, so then they don't bring mugmar at all. So they did bring mugmar while the met was there, to get rid of the smell. We understand that.
Okay. The Gemara continues: ein molichin leveit ha'avel. Now, when the friends have to provide the first se'udah right after the burial, they provide him with this se'udah. Yeah, we said that se'udah is called what? Se'udat havra'ah. So they have to present it to him in a mechubad way—in a respectful way. It says, ein molichin lebeit ha'evel, lo betavla, not on a tray, velo be'askatubla. Velo iskatub, velo iskutla. What's that? That's a big tray. Or a big pot, or a tray. Velo bekanon—that's a very wide vessel—ela besalim, in a very modest way, in baskets. Baskets made out of, what, reeds or willow. In a very modest way: no fancy dishes, no fancy serviceware. A small basket made out of willow, and they put the food in it.
I guess they did that because they don't want to embarrass people. Again, I guess the se'udat havra'ah becomes like everything else: everybody starts outdoing the next guy, serving it in important dishes, and then the poor guy who doesn't have them gets embarrassed if it's served to him. So they made a rule: everybody has to be the same when it comes to the se'udat havra'ah. You put it in these baskets, and that's it.
Ve'ein omrim birkat avelim bamo'ed. Oh, so when they come out of the cemetery on Chol Hamo'ed, they don't say the special berachah called birkat avelim. Aval omdim bashurah menachamim. We learned about that already. They stand in rows. The avelim stand in a row, or the people stand in a row and the avelim walk by them, and they give them nechamah. They do that tradition even on Chol Hamo'ed. Ufotrim et harabim: after the menachamim give them nechamah, the avelim tell them, “Okay, rabotai, go home.” Normally they go home to give them the se'udat havra'ah and do all these other things, but on Chol Hamo'ed they tell them, “Okay, todah rabah, thanks for coming, and go home.”
Ein manichim et hamitah barechov. This is also on Chol Hamo'ed: they don't put the mitah in the street. Normally, I guess, they would put the mitah in the street in order to eulogize and things like that. Shelo lehargil et hahesped: they don't want people to become stirred up or anguished on Chol Hamo'ed. Velo shel nashim le'olam: they never put the coffin of a woman in the street, mipnei hakavod, out of respect, because she could be a niddah or a zavah. They didn't have boxes in the old days; they put her on a stretcher or something, and she's oozing dam niddah. It's not kavod, so they never put a woman's coffin in the street, mipnei hakavod.
Okay. There is a se'udah— that's a good question. It sounds like from here there is no se'udat havra'ah on Chol Hamo'ed. In actuality, it's a point to know what they do on Chol Hamo'ed. Jack, you want to look on my desk to see if Rabbi Pinhasi's sefer is there? It's a good question what you... If somebody passes away on Chol Hamo'ed, it sounds like from here there is no se'udat havra'ah. Ufotrim et harabim: they tell them, “Go home.” Who's giving them the se'udah? Who's giving them...? It says, potrim. Deha mishe'amdu harabim menachamei shurah notnim la'avelim reshut lelech miyad lebateihem ve'einam tzrichim lehasev imahem biseudat havra'ah. But where's the se'udat havra'ah? How is it done?
So it's not done in the regular way. Rabbi Pinhasi says that instead of giving them eggs and the normal avelut food, because they're not supposed to eat that on Chol Hamo'ed, they give them a cup of coffee, a cup of tea, and a piece of cake. It's a different type of se'udah. It's not a normal—it's not a se'udah; they make a shinui for Chol Hamo'ed. Who's you? Not you, somebody. No, no, we do eulogies for a talmid chacham. No, no, no. No. No. The whole se'udat havra'ah is on the day of the burial, because he's stressed. But the point is they make a shinui, so they give it to him in a different way. Yeah, we're going to look at it, but I just want to get to the end of the daf before the—okay, we'll find it, but we had it yesterday. Okay, continue.
Tanu Rabbanan: Barishonah hayu molichin beveit avel. A famous story. This is a story about things getting out of hand, and then the rabbis making takanot in order to put everything back in order. This is the story of how funerals used to get out of hand. The funerals became lavish, and the rabbis had to come along and put a stop to it. Tanu Rabbanan. Barishonah, this is first of all talking about the se'udat havra'ah. When they used to bring the se'udat havra'ah to the beit avel, ashirim bekaltot shel kesef veshel zahav: the rich people would serve it in gold and silver. Va'aniyim besalei netzarim: the poor people would bring it in a little basket made out of branches, shel aravah kelufah, stripped willow. Vehayu aniyim mitbayshin: the poor people, miskenim, were embarrassed.
Hitkinu sheyehu hakol mevi'in besalei netzarim shel aravah kelufah. The rabbis enacted that everybody bring it in the same way, in willow baskets, mipenei khevodan shel aniyim. You see? There's an inyan not to embarrass the poor guy. The rich guy can't say, “Oh, I made my money. What are you talking about? What is he getting embarrassed for? Let him do what he can afford.” All those claims—the Chachamim didn't care. Bottom line: shelo levayesh et ha'aniyim.
Tanu Rabbanan: Barishonah hayu mashkin bebeit ha'avel. When they used to bring drinks to the beit ha'avel, ashirim bikhlei zekhuchit levanah: the rich people used to bring them in crystal glasses; va'aniyim bikhlei zekhuchit tzevu'ah, colored glass, which is cheaper. Vehayu aniyim mitbayshin. Again, the poor people were embarrassed. Hitkinu sheyehu hakol mashkin bezekhuchit tzevu'ah. They made a rule that everybody serve drinks in colored glass. Why? Mipenei khevodan shel aniyim.
Next story. Barishonah hayu megalin penei ha'ashirim umekhasin penei aniyim mipenei shehayu mushcharin peneihem mipenei batzoret. Wow. It's like the wake. In the beginning, they used to reveal the faces of the rich people at the time of the levayah. Christian thing? The face—oh. So they wanted people to see the face; they get sad? The goyim do that, not the Jews. The Jews, they reveal the face? Face? No, everything's covered. What happens is the rich people's faces look good, so they revealed them. But the poor people's faces are black because they die of starvation. So when the poor people would go to this funeral, they'd cover their faces. What would happen? Vehayu aniyim mitbayshin. It was embarrassing, right? They have different protocols. The Gemara says, hitkinu sheyehu mekhasin penei hakol mipenei khevodan shel aniyim. Again, a new rule: because of the poor people, everybody gets covered.
Barishonah hayu motzi'in ashirim bedargash. The coffin, or the bed they used to take out a rich person, was this leather item; they took out the dargash. How would the poor people go out? Bikhlikhah. It's like a ladder, a piece of wood with slats, and they put them on the slats. Vehayu aniyim mitbayshin. Hitkinu sheyehu hakol motzi'in bikhlikhah mipenei khevodan shel aniyim.
Barishonah hayu manichin et hamugmar tachat cholei mei'ayim metim. Somebody died of intestinal problems, and therefore there was a big smell on the body. Underneath the body they would put mugmar to dissipate the smell. Vehayu cholei mei'ayim chayim mitbayshim. Wow. The people with intestinal illness would be embarrassed when they were alive, because they knew they were going to get the smell, and they would get a special, you know, deodorant put under their bodies. It embarrassed them. So what did they do? They didn't make a takanah that nobody gets it. Hitkinu sheyehu mugmar tachat hakol. Everybody gets mugmar now. Why? Mipenei khevodan shel cholei mei'ayim chayim, so the living people with intestinal illness shouldn't be embarrassed.
Barishonah hayu matbilin et hakelim al gabei niddot metot. Which means, let's say you have a woman wearing begadim, and she was a niddah and died while she was a niddah, so the begadim become tamei. What would happen? They would immerse the vessels and clothes that the menstruants had used while they were alive. Aha. They would take the kelim she used while she was alive, because the kelim a niddah used while alive are also obviously tamei. So they would take those kelim and immerse them. Who would they immerse them with? Rashi, top line: al gabei niddot metot, hakelim shenishtamshu bahem be'odam bechayim, shenitme'u benegi'atam, shehaniddah metam'ah benegi'atam adam vechelim. Okay, so what's—why? I guess, what, she died a niddah? So they take all her kelim in the house? Then someone comes along and says, “Oh, look at this here, she was a niddah.” Vehayu niddot chayot mitbayshot. Ah, they were embarrassed. They said, “Oh, when she dies, they're going to take all my kelim and immerse them. It's embarrassing.” So hitkinu sheyihyu matbilim al gabei kol hanashim. Wow, amazing! Every time a woman died, they would immerse everything in the house. Why? Mipnei khevodan shel niddot chayot, not to embarrass the menstruants. Amazing.
Barishonah matbilim al gabei zavim metim. Same story. That's by a man. A man who was a zav: when he died, all the kelim that he touched had to be immersed. What happened? Someone got embarrassed again. Vehayu zavim chayim mitbayshim; hitkinu sheyihyu matbilim al gabei hakol mipnei khevodam shel zavim chayim.
Barishonah haytah hotza'at hamet kashah likrovav yoter mimitato. Wow. The expenses for the funeral were an even bigger hardship for the family than the death itself. Why? Because it was very expensive. They used to give them all sorts of shrouds and all sorts of things, so they dreaded the service more than the death itself. The death is free. Okay, it's tza'ar, but now they have the pressure of coming up with the money to pay for all these expenses. Ad—wow, what a story—shehayu krovav manichim oto uvorchim. The families would just leave the bodies in the street, and that's it; they'd run away. They abandoned the bodies. They couldn't pay for it; they couldn't deal with it. So they would just leave the bodies in the street, and somebody else would take care of it. There was bushah.
Ad sheba Rabban Gamliel venahag kalut rosh be'atzmo. Amazing. Rabban Gamliel said he had to change the trend. Although he was a very rich man, he was the nasi. When he died, he told them to put the simplest shrouds on him and make the simplest funeral. When people saw, “The rich man did it,” he set the trend, and everybody did it. So what happened? Veyatza bichlei pishtan. Bichlei pishtan: he made the shrouds out of linen, something cheap. Veyatza venahagu ha'am acharav latzet bepishtan.
Rav Pappa said, vehaidana, what's the minhag today? Nahug alma: the world is accustomed, afilu betzarda bar zuza. Even something made out of kanbus, a very cheap hemp garment, even if it costs a zuz, that's it. So this is very strong mussar from this Gemara. You see what's going on with weddings today used to go on with funerals. The Gemara is telling you that funerals used to get out of hand, so the rabbis stepped in. Weddings get out of hand; lich'orah, there should be a takanah. But again, who's listening? Who's listening? A guy says, “It's my only daughter. I worked for my money. What are you going to tell me, to make it in some basement over here in Boro Park? Not my style, not my thing, some caterers serving slop. All my rich friends are coming; they're not going to eat this goulash in Boro Park.” People say, “Okay, but in the old days the rabbis had power. When they made a takanah, that's it.” Right, you need a rich guy like Rabban Gamliel to set the pace.
Okay, now we have Benny's question. Benny, it's your question, you ready? You asked me about talmidei chachamim? It's coming up. Ein manichim et hamitah barechov. Okay, Rav Pappa said, ein mo'ed bifnei talmid chacham. If a talmid chacham passes away on Chol Hamo'ed, they give him the regular service: eulogy and the regular thing. They even put his bed in the public square, according to the shitah. Let the people mourn; no problem. Vechen, vechol sheken—I'm sorry—Chanukah (Festival of Dedication), Purim (Festival of Lots). Sure, Chanukah and Purim are not as serious as Chol Hamo'ed. Of course you could do it. Vehani milei befanav. That's only when the coffin is in front of him, meaning the people are in front of the actual casket. Aval shelo befanav lo: they aren't allowed to eulogize when the talmid chacham isn't in front of them. Which means the talmid chacham has already been buried; you can't now go to the shul and make eulogies. He's not there. Befnei hamet, yeah, but not in front of the met, no.
Ini, we have a contradiction: Rav Kahana eulogized Rav Zevid miNehardea on Chol Hamo'ed in Pum Nahara. Rav Zevid miNehardea wasn't in front of him, and he still gave a eulogy? Rav Pappa said, yom shemuah havah. That was the day they got the news that he passed away. Ukhefanav damei: on the day they get the news, it's considered as if it's befanav, because it's a great anguish. On the day they get the news that the great Rav passed away, that already has a din of befanav.
Okay, Ulla said: hesped—what is a hesped? Al halev. When they used to make eulogies, they used to hit themselves and bang and do all sorts of physical gestures. A hesped is when they bang on the heart. Dichtiv (as it is written), al shadayim sofdim. Shadayim means the breasts; that's where the heart is, so they do tipuach bayad. There's another type of mourning called tipuach. That's when they hit their hands; that's tipuach. Kilus baregel: they bang their feet on the ground. All different sorts of actions they did at the time of avelut to show their anguish.
Tanu Rabbanan: hamakales, somebody stamping his feet on the ground for the met, lo yekales besandal. Okay, not with sandals, ela beman'al, only with a shoe, mipnei hasakanah. What's going to happen? It's going to break his foot. Like, was the sandal made out of wood? Loose position, and then they might end up banging their foot on the ground. The shoe fits him better. Bang on the shoe, no problem. With the sandal, it will fall off, and then what? Boom, he bangs his foot on the ground and breaks his leg. Okay, practical advice.
And Rabbi Yochanan said, avel keivan sheni'ana rosho, shuv ein menachamin resha'in leishev etzlo. Aha, which means sometimes the avel wants the menachamim to leave. He's consoled already; he got the consolation. So when he nods his head, that's already a sign that the menachamim should leave. I guess it's a tircha; they shouldn't burden him. And Rabbi Yochanan said—right, visiting hours are over. Hakol chayavim, huh? Up until now, right, right, so you shouldn't burden him. Bediyuk, bediyuk. Please don't come. Read it. Read it. What does he say? But the sandal—was the sandal made out of what, wood? So that's the reverse interpretation. If it's made out of leather, he says it's a problem because it's light. The guy might bang his foot on the ground, hit a thorn or a rock, and hurt his leg. Mah she'ein ken: if you have a sandal made out of wood, it's stronger. So that's a reverse interpretation. Okay, very good.
And Rabbi Yochanan said, hakol chayavim la'amod bifnei nasi, chutz me'avel vecholeh. Oh, big question. The head of the Sanhedrin comes into the house; everybody has to stand up. Kavod talmidei chachamim, kavod Sanhedrin. However, the avel does not have to stand up, and neither does the sick person. And Rabbi Yochanan said, lakol omrim lahem shevu. Which means, when people are standing in front of the nasi, they say to everyone, “Sit.” The avel—I'm sorry, the nasi tells everybody, “Sit.” I guess you don't sit until he tells you to sit. That's the derech eretz. When somebody is standing in front of the nasi, the nasi tells them, “Be seated.” Chutz me'avel vecholeh. Aha, if the avel and the sick person get up, they should not tell them shevu. I guess because it's as if you're telling them, “Go back to sitting in avelut. Go back to being sick.” So when a regular, healthy guy is standing and you tell him shevu, what does shevu mean? Sit. No problem; you don't have to stand. Mah she'en ken, when you're telling somebody who is sitting to sit, it's as if you're cursing him: “Go back to sitting, go back to avelut.” So that's not the right phrase to use.
Rav Yehudah said in the name of Rav: an avel, on the yom rishon, asur le'echol lechem mishelo. Okay, we know he's not allowed to eat his own bread. That's why we have the se'udat havra'ah; he gets bread from others. Mide'amar leh Rachmana leYichezkel (Ezekiel), right, when Yichezkel was told to observe this special type of avelut, velechem anashim lo tochal. He was told, “Do not eat the bread of other people.” Yichezkel had a special avelut where the laws didn't apply to him. So it mashma that only Yichezkel was not able to eat other people's bread; it mashma that everybody else has to eat other people's bread.
Rabbah and Rav Yosef mechalfe se'udatayhu lahadedah. Rabbah and Rav Yosef, when one of them was an avel, would exchange their meals with one another. They would switch their se'udot with each other. I guess that was the custom: Rabbah would provide for Rav Yosef, and Rav Yosef would provide for Rabbah, respectively. When each one was an avel, each would bring the other a se'udah.
And Rav Yehudah said in the name of Rav: met ba'ir. A guy dies in the city. Kol bene ha'ir asurin ba'asiyat melachah. Wow. The whole city: no work until they bury the guy. So I guess everybody has to be involved. Rav Hamnuna came to Drometa, a certain city. He heard the shofar announcing that somebody had died. He saw some people going to work. He said to them, “Let these people be in cherem (a ban), nidui. Isn't there a dead person in the city?” They said to him, “Chavurata ika bemata: there is a burial group in the city.” We have a chevrah kadisha. So then we don't need everybody to help. We have paid people, whatever, volunteers, who do the job. He said to them, “If so, sharya lechu: you are released.” Okay, take them out of nidui. Put them in nidui first, because why are they working? What kind of chutzpah is this? Then, when they told him, “What are you talking about, Rabbi? They're not doing anything wrong; the chevrah kadisha takes care of it,”—oh, you learn that this answers our minhag. Today, when somebody passes away, everybody goes to work. Why? Chevrah kadisha.
And Rav Yehudah said in the name of Rav: kol hamitkasheh al meto yoter midai, bar minan, if somebody cries longer than he's supposed to and has excessive avelut, al met acher hu bocheh. God says, “You want to cry? Okay, somebody else will die, bar minan.” Which means a person is supposed to accept. Exactly, to a certain point a person has to accept.
Hahu itteta dehavat beshivvuteh deRav Huna. There was a woman in the neighborhood of Rav Huna. Shiv'ah bane: she had seven sons, and umet chad minayhu: one of them died, God forbid. Havat kabachya biterata aleh. She cried... So it says she cried excessively. Rav Huna sent to her—right? She had seven sons, one of them died, and she cried excessively for one of the sons. The rabbi, Rav Huna, told her, “La ta'avde hachi. Don't cry so much,” meaning, I guess, after a certain period, enough. La ashkechat bah: she paid no attention. He sent to her, “I tzayt, mutav. Ve'i lav, tzebi zevadata le'idach. Prepare a travel bag for the next one.” Mit. The second one died. Died. And what happened? Umitu kulhu, bar minan: they all died. Lesof, lesof—what happened? He said to her, “Timushi zevadata lenafshich.” Wow, now he told her, “Prepare your own travel bag.” Umetah: she also died.
The inyan is, because it's showing that there's no belief in the—no, meaning in the—Bore Olam did it. It's from Bore Olam (Creator of the World). So she's questioning the justice system of Bore Olam. I guess a person is allowed to have anguish, but after a certain point, like you said, they have to accept it. And therefore she was doing it excessively. We don't know exactly how excessive, but enough for the rabbi to tell her it wasn't proper. More than a year, maybe? Yeah.
Last point: al tivku lemet ve'al tanudu lo. What does it mean, “Don't cry for the dead”? Al tivku lemet yoter midai: excessively. Ve'al tanudu lo: don't eulogize yoter mikashi'ur (beyond the prescribed measure), more than the shi'ur (measure) that the rabbis made. What's the measure? Hakeitzad? Sheloshah yamim levechi, the first three days for crying; veshiv'ah lehesped, seven days for eulogies; usheloshim legihutz, thirty days for laundering, veletisporet, and for haircuts. Umikan va'eilach (and from then onward), HaKadosh Baruch Hu said, i atem rachmanin bo yoter mimeni. Which means, you don't have to be more merciful than I am. I created him; I know what I'm doing. And therefore don't show as if you're more merciful than me, crying and all that. That's it. You did what you had to do, and that's it. Okay, the Gemara will bring more, be'ezrat Hashem. We'll continue this, be'ezrat Hashem.