The Eddie B. Sitt Edition and Audio Series of the Babylonian Talmud: May Hashem grant us ... Amen.
We begin today’s study on folio 4b, at the bottom line. The Rabbis taught in a Baraita: monetary cases require three judges. We said that when dealing with monetary matters, three judges are necessary. However, if the judge is an expert, he may judge even by himself.
As we saw earlier, there is a verse that speaks about a single judge, while elsewhere we learn that three judges are required. We wanted to say that just as the requirement of three judges applies here, it also applies to admissions, loans, and other monetary cases. If one does not know all the relevant explanations, then perhaps admissions and loans can be judged by one person if he is an expert. In other words, three judges are the ordinary requirement, but a single expert judge may also judge the case.
We still need to understand what qualifies someone as an expert judge. Rav Nachman said, “Someone like me may judge monetary cases alone.” Similarly, Rav Chiya said that someone of his caliber may judge monetary cases alone.
What did Rav Nachman mean by “someone like me”? First, such a person must possess extensive knowledge of the laws that he learned from his teachers. Second, he must know how to apply those laws through sound reasoning. In addition, he must have received permission from the Exilarch, the head of the Babylonian Jewish community.
The question is whether permission from the Exilarch is essential. Perhaps an individual who possesses both the necessary knowledge and the ability to reason properly may judge alone even without formal permission. Or perhaps he must also obtain authorization from the Exilarch. That is the question the Gemara now seeks to resolve.
Come and hear a proof. Mar Zutra, the son of Rav Nachman, judged a case by himself and made a mistake. Instead of ruling that one party had to pay, he ruled in the opposite direction. He then came before Rav Yosef.
Rav Yosef told him that if the litigants had accepted him unconditionally as their judge, then even if he made a mistake, he would not have to pay. That means they had said, in effect, “Rabbi, we want you to judge the case, and whatever you decide, whether right or wrong, we will accept.” If they had made that acceptance, Mar Zutra was protected.
However, if they had not accepted his mistakes—if they had said, “Rabbi, we want you to give us the true judgment, but if you make a mistake, we do not accept it”—then he had to compensate the injured party from his own pocket.
The Gemara assumes that Mar Zutra had not received permission from the Exilarch. Yet Rav Yosef did not tell him, “You had no authorization, so your judgment is invalid. Start the case over.” Instead, he told him that the judgment remained a valid judgment, but that he had to pay for his mistake.
What do we learn from this? We learn that even without permission from the Exilarch, the judgment is still a judgment. The difference is that permission from the Exilarch protects the judge even if he makes a mistake. Without that permission, the outcome depends on whether the litigants accepted the judge unconditionally. If they did, he is protected; if they did not, he must pay for the error.
In other words, permission from the Exilarch provides complete protection. Of course, this does not mean that a judge may act recklessly; nevertheless, with authorization, he is not personally liable for an ordinary judicial mistake. Without authorization, the litigants’ acceptance determines whether he is liable.
If a person wants to judge a case and protect himself in the event that he makes a mistake, what should he do? He should obtain permission from the Exilarch.
Shmuel said that someone who wants such protection should obtain authorization. The Gemara then moves to a new question.
There were two systems of Torah leadership: the sages of Babylonia and the sages of the Land of Israel. In Babylonia, there was the Exilarch; in the Land of Israel, there was the Nasi. Each had his own academy and sphere of authority.
It is obvious that if a person wants to judge in Babylonia and receives permission from the Exilarch, he is protected in Babylonia. Similarly, if he wants to judge in the Land of Israel and receives permission from the Nasi, he is protected in the Land of Israel. The question is what happens when he crosses the border. If he receives authorization in the Land of Israel, may he judge in Babylonia? If he receives authorization in Babylonia, may he judge in the Land of Israel?
For authorization used in the same place, there is no question: permission granted in Babylonia works in Babylonia, and permission granted in the Land of Israel works in the Land of Israel. The question concerns crossing from one jurisdiction to the other.
The Gemara says that permission granted in Babylonia also works in the Land of Israel. Why? Because the authority of the Babylonian sages was greater in this respect. The Babylonian leaders are called a ruling tribe, while the sages of the Land of Israel are called lawmakers. A lawmaker formulates laws, whereas a ruling tribe possesses the power to enforce them. The one who holds the staff has greater authority than the one who merely legislates.
How do we know that they are described in these terms? The Gemara cites the teaching on the verse, “The scepter shall not depart from Judah.” When Jacob blessed Judah, he referred to the scepter. The scepter represents the leaders who judge and rule over the Jewish people with authority and force.
The descendants of Hillel, referring here to the sages of the Land of Israel, were certainly great rabbis. They taught Torah to many students and had extensive knowledge. Nevertheless, they were not called the ruling tribe in this context.
What is the practical halachic difference between being called a ruling tribe and being called a lawmaker? According to Rashi, this is not merely a question of terminology. The term “ruling tribe” indicates power. Such authorities can determine that money belongs to one person and remove it from another person in order to give it to the rightful recipient.
Therefore, if a person received a document from the chief rabbi of Babylonia granting him permission to judge alone, and then went to the Land of Israel, the authorization would protect him there as well. He came with the authority of Babylonia, whose sages possessed the power to transfer property through their judgments. The principle is that what a court declares ownerless is ownerless, and what a court assigns may be assigned.
The reverse case is the question. If a person receives authorization from the chief rabbi of the Land of Israel, does that permit him to judge in Babylonia and protect him if he makes a mistake?
Come and hear a proof. Rabbi Bar Hanah was in the Land of Israel and then went to Babylonia. He judged a case there and made a mistake. He came before Rav Chiya. Rav Chiya told him the same rule: if the litigants had accepted him unconditionally, he was protected; if they had not accepted the possibility of a mistake, he had to pay from his own pocket.
We know that Rabbi Bar Hanah had received authorization from the sages of the Land of Israel. We therefore learn that permission granted there does not protect a judge in Babylonia. If it did, Rav Chiya should have told him, “Even if you made a mistake, you are protected because you received authorization from the Land of Israel.” Since he did not tell him that, and instead required him to pay unless the litigants had accepted his mistakes, we see that authorization from the Land of Israel does not work in Babylonia.
The Babylonian sages therefore had greater authority in this respect. There was, however, another rabbi who was involved in a dispute with the Exilarch. There was some political tension between them, and the rabbi said to the Exilarch, “I do not need you. I am not functioning because you gave me permission. I received permission from my father, and my father received permission from ...”
At first glance, his statement seems to indicate that a rabbi in Babylonia could function with authorization from the Land of Israel alone. Otherwise, why would he tell the Exilarch, “What do I need you for? I have authorization from the Land of Israel”?
The commentators explain that this rabbi had in fact received authorization from both Babylonia and the Land of Israel. The authorization from Babylonia was the one that protected him, but he did not want to place himself under the Exilarch’s control or give him too much recognition. He therefore said, “Why do I need your document? I have one from the Land of Israel.”
In reality, he knew that he needed the authorization of the Exilarch. He was merely trying to avoid being subordinate to him. The Gemara therefore does not have proof that authorization from the Land of Israel alone protects a rabbi who judges in Babylonia.
Another possibility is that he wanted to demonstrate that the sages of the Land of Israel possessed an uninterrupted chain of ordination going back to Rabbi Judah the Prince. He was saying, “I have standing without you.” Nevertheless, according to the Gemara’s understanding, he still needed the authorization of the Exilarch.
The Gemara now returns to the earlier case. We said that authorization from the Land of Israel does not protect a judge in Babylonia. If so, why did that rabbi obtain authorization from the Land of Israel in the first place?
It helped him in the cities located on the border between Babylonia and the Land of Israel. Those cities followed the customs and jurisdiction of the Land of Israel. Thus, even though the rabbi was traveling toward Babylonia, his authorization protected him in the border cities. In Babylonia proper, however, the authorization would not protect him if he made a mistake, and he would have to pay from his own pocket.
The Gemara brings another related incident. When Rabbi Bar Hanah was going down to Babylonia, Rabbi Chiya said to Rabbi Judah the Prince, “My nephew, the son of my brother, is going down to Babylonia. May he issue rulings?” Rabbi Judah replied, “He may issue rulings.”
Rabbi Chiya then asked, “May he permit firstborn animals?” Rabbi Judah replied, “He may permit them.”
The matter of firstborn animals requires explanation. A firstborn animal possesses sanctity and must be given to a priest. The priest takes it, offers it as a sacrifice, and eats it; it becomes the priest’s property. If the firstborn animal develops a blemish, it cannot be sacrificed immediately. Sometimes the blemish is temporary and later heals. In that case, once it heals, the animal is treated as a firstborn animal without a blemish and may not be slaughtered in an ordinary manner.
At other times the animal develops a permanent blemish. A permanent blemish removes the animal’s sacrificial status, allowing it to be slaughtered outside the Temple courtyard and eaten. This is the basis for the practical question that arises with animals today: when someone acquires a cow, perhaps it is a firstborn animal. How can it be eaten? The animal must remain under observation until it develops a permanent blemish, after which it may be slaughtered.
Determining whether a blemish is temporary or permanent is not simple. An expert must know whether the blemish will heal or whether it is permanent. Rabbi Chiya therefore asked whether Rabbi Bar Hanah could rule on firstborn animals, and Rabbi Judah replied that he could.
Rav, however, later said about himself, “I lived and studied with a shepherd for eighteen months.” He spent that period learning the laws of animal blemishes and became highly knowledgeable in that area.
The Gemara asks why Rav was not given permission to permit firstborn animals. One explanation is that Rabbi Judah wanted to give Rabbi Bar Hanah honor. When Rav would go to Babylonia, Rabbi Bar Hanah would be the recognized authority in this matter. Even if Rabbi Bar Hanah tended to be more stringent, stringency would not lead people to violate a prohibition. Rav, by contrast, was so expert in the laws of blemishes that his rulings might permit cases that ordinary people would find surprising.
A person might bring an animal to Rav, and Rav might determine that its blemish was permanent and that it could be slaughtered and eaten. People who did not understand the technical laws might then say, “If even this blemish is sufficient, then another blemish that appears similar must certainly be sufficient as well.” They would not realize that Rav possessed a level of expertise far beyond their own and that his ruling depended on distinctions they could not make.
For that reason, Rav was not permitted to rule on firstborn animals in that setting. Instead, people were directed to Rabbi Bar Hanah. Rabbi Bar Hanah might be stringent, but being stringent would not cause people to eat prohibited animals. This restriction was intended to prevent the public from making mistakes.
The Gemara then says that Rabbi Bar Hanah could issue other rulings. It asks: if he had studied the laws, why would he need permission at all? If he knew the material, why could he not simply answer questions?
We take this requirement for granted in our own time. A rabbi who studies the relevant laws of Yoreh De’ah still needs authorization from his teacher before issuing practical rulings. That authorization is known as ordination or permission to rule. The Gemara is asking why such permission is necessary if the person already knows the laws.
The reason is the following incident. People were preparing dough in pots that were ritually impure. These people were generally careful, so the rabbi asked them, “What are you doing? Why are you making your dough in impure pots?”
They answered, “We already asked one of your students, and he told us that what is made with flour and what is made with eggs is permitted.” They had misunderstood the student. He had said that dough made with eggs does not become susceptible to ritual impurity in the same way, but they understood him to be discussing marsh water.
There is a principle that an impure vessel cannot transfer impurity to something dry unless the food has first become susceptible to impurity through contact with one of the qualifying liquids. The liquids are wine, blood, oil, dew, honey, water, and milk. If the food remains completely dry, ritual impurity is not transferred in the same manner.
The people asked whether marsh water could be used. Marsh water contains mud, dirt, and sediment, so the rabbi needed to clarify the matter. The student, however, had said “with eggs,” and they heard “with marshes.” As a result, they used marsh water in impure vessels, and the food became subject to the problem of ritual impurity.
The student had not spoken clearly enough to ensure that they understood him. Nor did he verify what they had understood afterward. They then relied on a further misunderstanding involving a Mishnah.
They thought the Mishnah stated that water from certain rivers and marshes could not be used for the water of the red heifer. The water used in that ritual must be suitable for that purpose. They reasoned that if such water was invalid for the red-heifer ritual, it must not be considered water for purposes of susceptibility to ritual impurity either.
That reasoning was incorrect. For the red-heifer ritual, the water must meet specific requirements, and water from a marsh may not be valid for that purpose. But for susceptibility to ritual impurity, water is still water. The student’s unclear statement, combined with the people’s misunderstanding of the Mishnah, caused them to make a mistake.
When the rabbi heard what had happened, he said that not every student who knows the law is qualified to issue practical rulings. A person must also be responsible and able to communicate the ruling clearly, without confusing those who ask him.
This is why formal permission is necessary. A rabbi must determine not only whether the student knows the material, but also whether he is capable of giving a practical answer accurately and responsibly. Without this incident, one might think that anyone who had studied the law could immediately issue rulings. The incident teaches that knowledge alone is not sufficient.
Tosafot asks a question about the wording. If the student had said “with eggs,” how could anyone have confused that with “marsh water”? The words do not sound identical.
Tosafot answers by citing a verse in Job in which a marsh is called a certain term. The student may have said “from the marsh,” while the listeners heard a similar-sounding word referring to eggs. Because the expression for marsh appears in Scripture, the misunderstanding was possible.
Tosafot raises another question. The Mishnah says that water from those rivers is invalid for the red-heifer ritual, but another passage seems to imply that the water came from flowing springs. If it was spring water, why should it be invalid?
The answer is that the problem was not necessarily that the water was stagnant. The water could have been flowing water, but it contained significant sediment and mud. When the water was poured into a vessel, the sediment created a separation between the water and the vessel. The law requires the water to come into contact with the sides of the vessel. Because of that separation, the water was invalid for the red-heifer ritual.
The Gemara brings another incident. Rabbi Tanchum, the son of Rabbi Ami, arrived in a place called Hatar. He stood up and said, “My teachers, is it permitted to soak wheat on Passover?” This is a significant question because wheat that remains in water for too long can become leavened. He was asking whether the wheat could be soaked briefly for cleaning purposes without concern that it would become leavened.
The residents answered him, “No. Rav Mani of Mansur is here.” There was already a great rabbi in the town, and Rabbi Tanchum was a student in relation to him. A student may not issue practical rulings in a place where his teacher is present.
The Gemara derives this principle from the arrangement of the Israelites in the wilderness. There were many scholars, but when a question arose, they went to Moses. The distance between the camps was described as three parasangs. From there, the Gemara learns that when a rabbi is within three parasangs, one must defer to him rather than issue a ruling independently.
Rabbi Tanchum therefore should not have stood up and declared the law while Rav Mani was present. He said that he did not know Rav Mani was there, and the incident teaches that a student must ascertain whether his teacher is nearby before issuing a practical ruling.
The Gemara brings one more incident. In the version of the text before us, the story does not seem to fit the surrounding discussion, so we first read it according to that version and then consider the version cited by Rashi, in which the connection is clearer.
A man was seen in a cemetery. The rabbi asked him, “Are you not the son of so-and-so? Was your father not a priest? What are you doing in a cemetery?”
The man replied, “Yes, but that man—my father—was a person whose eyes were raised very high.” He was speaking negatively about his father without saying it directly. He meant that his father followed his own desires. He had seen a divorcee and married her, despite being a priest. Because a priest’s son born from such a marriage is disqualified from priestly status, the man explained that he was not actually a priest. His family name was Priest, but he himself was an ordinary Israelite and was therefore permitted to enter a cemetery.
What does this story have to do with the discussion? Rashi explains that the rabbi was in the town, and we have just learned that a student may not issue rulings when his teacher is present. Why, then, did the rabbi intervene and tell the man what to do?
The answer is that the prohibition against issuing a ruling in the presence of one’s teacher applies when someone asks a question and one gives a formal halachic answer. In that situation, the student must tell the person to ask the rabbi. But if someone is actively violating a prohibition—if someone is eating non-kosher food or if a priest is entering a cemetery—one does not wait for the teacher. One must stop the person immediately.
According to this explanation, the story teaches that the obligation to defer to one’s teacher does not prevent a person from intervening immediately to stop an ongoing prohibition.
There is another version of the story. According to that version, the incident took place in Akko, a city on the border of the Land of Israel. Part of the city was considered within the Land of Israel, while another part was outside the Land of Israel. A rabbi saw people standing on the border of the Land of Israel while preparing dough with impure utensils. Because the area outside the Land of Israel is treated as susceptible to ritual impurity, he asked them what they were doing.
They answered that a student had told them that it was permissible because of the issue involving eggs and marsh water. The rabbi then clarified the matter. The first incident and the incident involving the man in the cemetery were both connected with ritual impurity. In the first case, people were making dough with impure utensils. In the second, a man was near a cemetery, but he was standing across the border, in an area outside the Land of Israel, which was treated as ritually impure. According to this version, the two stories are connected.
The Gemara then makes one further point. It is obvious that partial authorization can work. A rabbi may give a student permission to issue rulings while imposing a condition or limitation. For example, the authorization may apply only in a particular place, only for a certain period, or only until the student returns.
Come and hear a proof. A rabbi was going to Babylonia, and he was told, “You have permission to issue rulings until you return.” Once he returned, the authorization ended, and the matter would have to be reconsidered. This demonstrates that a person may receive a limited authorization subject to a condition.
The Gemara’s question is whether one can likewise grant authorization for a fixed period—one year or two years—or whether, once permission is granted, it must remain in force without a time limit. The incident shows that permission may be given with a qualification: it is valid only while the rabbi is in that place, and once he returns, a new authorization is required.
May Hashem grant us the merit to continue studying and understanding the words of the Sages. Amen.