The Eri B. Sitt Edition and Audio Series of the Talmud Bavli, Massechet Sukkah, has been dedicated by Celia and Isaac Jamal. May they live and prosper, amen. May they derive much satisfaction from their dear children; may they all grow up, marry at the proper time, and have children in health and happiness, with blessing and success. May Celia and Isaac see descendants and the descendants of their descendants, until the coming of the righteous redeemer. Amen.
The tractate has also been dedicated for the elevation of the soul of Sara bat Adel. May her soul rest in the Garden of Eden. Amen. Again, this dedication is by Celia and Isaac Jamal. May they merit to perform many commandments.
Today’s page is being studied for the elevation of the soul of Abraham ben Esther. May his soul rest in the Garden of Eden. Amen. It is also being studied in honor of Roger and Raquel Baghdadi, our dear friends from Aventura, Florida. May they live and prosper. Amen.
We begin today’s page on 29b, at the new Mishnah: “A stolen or dried-out lulav is invalid.” Our Mishnah discusses the laws of the palm branch. It then teaches us about the myrtle branches and, afterward, the willow branches. The first focus here is the palm branch.
Let us review. The Torah says that on Sukkot, on the first day and throughout the following seven days, one must take the four species, one of which is the palm branch, known in Jewish law as a lulav. The Mishnah teaches that a stolen lulav is invalid.
Why is it invalid? Because the verse says that the four species must belong to you. Although that requirement is stated specifically regarding the first day, the Gemara will discuss what applies on the subsequent days of Sukkot. There is clearly a disqualification resulting from theft on the first day because of the word “yours.”
The Mishnah also says that a dried-out lulav is invalid. What is the source of this disqualification? One possibility is the verse, “This is my God, and I will glorify Him.” We are supposed to bring beautiful commandments, and a dried-out lulav is not beautiful. Therefore, it is disqualified because it does not fulfill the requirement of beautifying the commandment.
Tosafot, in his first explanation, asks: Since when is the requirement to beautify the commandment a disqualification that prevents fulfillment? The requirement to beautify the commandments means that they should be attractive, but ordinarily it is not an essential condition. Tosafot therefore offers a different source for a dried-out lulav: the word “splendid,” which appears in connection with the etrog. The Gemara will later compare the other three species to the etrog. Since the etrog must be splendid, the other species must also be splendid. A dry lulav is not attractive or beautiful, and is therefore invalid.
The Jerusalem Talmud offers a third opinion, based on the verse, “The dead cannot praise You.” A dry lulav is like something dead, and therefore it cannot praise the Creator.
The early commentators discuss the measure of dryness. One opinion says that the lulav is considered dry when it is brittle enough to be cracked with a fingernail. If you run your fingernail across it and it breaks apart, that is the required measure of dryness. Another opinion maintains that once the green color of the lulav begins to turn white, it has already reached the measure of dryness.
The early commentators also discuss how much of the lulav must become dry for the entire lulav to be considered invalid. We will wait until we reach the Gemara for that discussion. Some say that the entire lulav is invalidated; others say that only the central spine, the thick column running along the length of the lulav, must be dry for it to be invalid.
The Mishnah continues: A lulav that comes from a tree worshipped as an object of idolatry is invalid. The Gemara will explain why a palm branch from such a tree is invalid.
The Mishnah then discusses a city that has been declared an apostate city, meaning that the majority of its inhabitants worship idolatry. The law of such a city is that everything must be burned: the inhabitants and all the property in the city. “All its spoils shall be gathered into its midst, and it shall be burned.” The palm branches from such a city must also be burned.
What is the disqualification? A lulav requires a minimum measure of four handbreadths. Since the lulav from an apostate city is destined to be burned, it is considered as though it has already been burned. The Gemara uses the expression that its measure has been reduced through burning. Since the lulav is considered burned, it lacks the minimum measure and is therefore invalid.
The Mishnah goes out of its way to tell us that the problem is the absence of the required measure. If an object from an apostate city is destined to be burned but does not require a minimum measure for the commandment in question, there would be no such problem. The entire disqualification here is that an object destined to be burned is considered to have lost its measure. Since a lulav requires a minimum measure of four handbreadths, it is invalid.
We now come to the next case: “If its top was cut off, or its leaves were separated, it is invalid.” We will examine each case individually.
“If its top was cut off” means that the tip of the lulav was cut. Why is it invalid? It is no longer splendid or beautiful.
The early commentators offer different interpretations of the words “its top was cut off.” In his first explanation, Tosafot says that the uppermost two leaves emerging from the spine of the lulav were cut. In his second explanation, Tosafot says that most of the upper leaves were cut. Other early commentators say that the highest leaf—the tallest leaf—was cut. According to that opinion, if the highest leaf is cut, the lulav is invalid. In each case, the disqualification is related to the requirement that the lulav be beautiful.
What is the next case? “If its leaves were separated.” Literally, this means that the leaves became scattered. Rashi explains that they separated from the spine and are no longer attached to it. They remain connected only by a binding. They look like the bristles of a broom, scattered in different directions. Since the leaves are no longer properly attached to the spine and remain together only because they are tied, the lulav is invalid.
We then have the next case: “If its leaves were spread apart, it is valid.” What does this mean? Rashi explains that the leaves are still attached to the spine. They have not fallen away; they are simply spread open at the top rather than being closed together. They look like the leaves of a tree, while remaining attached to the spine. This is illustrated in the picture referred to as number 156. The leaves are still attached to the spine; they are merely spread apart.
The first anonymous opinion says that this is invalid because the verse calls the palm branch “a closed palm branch.” The word implies that the leaves must be bound together. Even if they are only somewhat spread apart, they must actually be tied at the top in order to remain together.
Rashi explains that the leaves should be bound from above when they have spread apart. They should be tied so that they rise along the spine in the same manner as the leaves of an ordinary lulav, attached to the spine and held together.
We now come to the final case in the Mishnah: palm branches from Hara Barzel are valid. These are a special type of lulav. Their spine is long, but their leaves do not extend all the way up the spine. Rather, the leaves are short. One leaf grows, and at the top of that leaf the next leaf begins. The base of the next leaf is located at the head of the leaf below it. This pattern continues along the entire lulav.
This can be seen in picture number 157. The spine extends upward, and one leaf begins at the bottom and rises toward the top. Precisely at the top of the first leaf, the next leaf begins. The head of the first leaf is adjacent to the base of the second. Although the leaves do not extend continuously along the spine in the usual manner, this is the normal way these particular palm trees grow. Therefore, the lulav is considered valid.
These palm trees are a type of small palm tree. Because the trees themselves are small, the leaves do not reach the full length of the spine. Nevertheless, since this is their normal form of growth, the lulav is valid.
The Mishnah concludes that the lulav must have three handbreadths in order to be shaken. The Gemara will explain that an additional handbreadth is needed for the actual shaking. In effect, a lulav that is four handbreadths long is valid.
Rashi asks: Why do we shake the lulav at all? Who introduced the practice of shaking it? He explains that the three handbreadths of the lulav correspond to the measure of the myrtle branches. The additional handbreadth allows one to see the lulav above the myrtle branches when it is shaken.
Rashi further explains that the shaking of the lulav somehow stops harmful winds and bad news. This means that the shaking of the lulav has an effect on the weather. Therefore, the lulav must be long enough to be visible above the myrtle branches while it is being shaken.
Thus, the measure taught by the Mishnah is as follows: A lulav requires a minimum of four handbreadths—three handbreadths corresponding to the height of the myrtle branches, plus one additional handbreadth so that the lulav can be seen above them when it is shaken. The Gemara now begins to analyze the Mishnah.
The Gemara says that the Mishnah states its ruling without making a distinction between the first day and the second day. This implies that there is no difference between the first and subsequent days with regard to a stolen or dried-out lulav. Both are invalid on every day.
It is understandable why a dry lulav is invalid regardless of the day. The disqualification is based on the requirement that the lulav be splendid. The Torah says that it must be beautiful, and a dry lulav is not beautiful. Therefore, it does not matter whether it is the first day or the second day: it is still invalid.
But with regard to a stolen lulav, why should it be invalid on the second day? The disqualification appears to apply only on the first day, because the verse says that the lulav must be “yours,” and the requirement of ownership applies specifically on the first day. On the second day, there should be no such requirement.
The commentators explain that the requirement of beauty is an intrinsic requirement of the lulav itself. It affects the nature and appearance of the lulav, and therefore applies on every day. Theft, however, is not necessarily a law intrinsic to the lulav itself. It is a law concerning ownership. Therefore, one might think that the problem of theft applies only on the first day, when ownership is required.
The Gemara explains that the obligation to take the lulav for seven days applied in the Temple. Outside the Temple, the Torah obligation is only for one day, because the verse says, “Seven days before the Lord.” The obligation for seven days applied when one was before the Lord in the Temple.
The Gemara then answers that on the second day, the obligation to take the lulav is rabbinic. Since the first day is explicitly written in the Torah, a dry lulav is invalid on the second day as well because the rabbis established the commandment on the second day in remembrance of the Temple. However, with regard to theft, who says that a stolen lulav is invalid on the second day? Why should the rabbinic obligation introduce a new disqualification?
Rabbi Yohanan, citing Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, offers a new reason. On the first day, the lulav is invalid because it must belong to you. On the subsequent days, even though there is technically no requirement of ownership, one may not fulfill a commandment through a transgression. Taking a stolen lulav would mean serving God through an act of theft. This introduces the principle that a commandment performed through a transgression is not considered a proper fulfillment.
Look at Rashi’s explanation. The first day is governed by the requirement of ownership, while the subsequent days are governed by the principle that a commandment cannot be fulfilled through a transgression.
There is a dispute among the early commentators as to whether this disqualification is biblical or rabbinic. According to Tosafot, the invalidity of a commandment performed through a transgression is itself a rabbinic law, and many of the early commentators understand it that way. Other early commentators maintain that it is a biblical disqualification. There is therefore a dispute among the early commentators regarding the extent of this principle.
In our discussion, however, we are speaking about the rabbinic level, because after the first day the obligation to take the lulav is itself rabbinic. In any event, the principle is that a commandment performed through a transgression is invalid.
There is another dispute among the early commentators regarding how to understand this principle. One approach is that once the lulav was stolen, the commandment remains a commandment performed through a transgression, even if the lulav is used later. According to this view, the transgression occurred when the lulav was stolen, and that is sufficient to invalidate the subsequent commandment.
Tosafot, however, maintains that the principle applies only when the transgression occurs at the time the commandment is fulfilled. For example, if a person steals the lulav and immediately uses it to fulfill the commandment, the fulfillment takes place at the moment of the transgression. That is a commandment performed through a transgression. But if a person steals an item and only later uses it for a commandment, Tosafot considers whether the same disqualification applies, since the transgression and the fulfillment did not occur at the same time.
The source for the principle that a commandment cannot be fulfilled through a transgression is brought from sacrifices. The verse in Malachi says that a person brings a stolen animal, a lame animal, or a sick animal. The common feature of these sacrifices is that they are invalid.
The Gemara compares a stolen sacrifice to a lame sacrifice. Just as a lame animal has no remedy, because its defect is permanent and it can never be brought as a sacrifice, so too a stolen animal has no remedy. Once it came into the person’s possession through theft, it cannot be brought as a sacrifice.
Rashi explains that this remains true even after the owner has relinquished hope of recovering the item. The Gemara teaches elsewhere that when an item is lost or stolen and the owner gives up hope of recovering it, that is called relinquishing hope. Ordinarily, once the owner has relinquished hope, the thief may acquire the item itself, although he still has to repay its value.
For example, if a person steals an item and the owner says, “I am finished; I will not get it back,” the thief may acquire the item itself. He is still obligated to pay money, but with regard to ownership of the object, the thief has acquired it. Even so, the Gemara teaches that if the item came to him through theft, he may not use it as a sacrifice. Although it technically belongs to him after the owner relinquished hope, it came to him through theft, and there is no remedy for that defect. It is like a permanently lame animal.
The Gemara now analyzes this idea. Before the owner relinquishes hope, it is understandable why the sacrifice is invalid. The Torah says that a person must bring a sacrifice from his own property, and before the owner relinquishes hope, the thief does not own it.
But after the owner relinquishes hope, what is the problem? At that point the thief owns the item. The Gemara answers that the reason is not that the thief lacks ownership. Rather, there is a separate disqualification: the sacrifice came into his possession through theft. Even though he later acquired ownership, the item remains disqualified because of the manner in which it came to him.
That is how Rashi understands the discussion. Tosafot, however, offers a different understanding. Tosafot maintains that the problem exists when the thief acquires ownership before the commandment is performed. At that point the item is his, but it is still subject to the disqualification of a commandment performed through a transgression.
How does Tosafot understand the case? Tosafot follows the opinion that relinquishing hope alone does not transfer ownership. Two things are required: the owner’s relinquishing hope and a change in possession. The owner relinquishes hope, and then the item must pass into a different domain. In the case of a sacrifice, the item passes from the thief’s domain into the domain of the Temple when he sanctifies it. At that moment, the item becomes his in the relevant sense, and at that same moment he sanctifies it as a sacrifice. Thus, the commandment is performed through a transgression at the time of the sanctification.
It should be noted that when the Torah says “yours” on the first day, the rule concerning ownership is different from the rule on the subsequent days. On every day, a stolen lulav is prohibited because of the principle that a commandment cannot be fulfilled through a transgression. But on the first day, the Torah’s requirement of ownership also means that even a borrowed lulav is invalid. On the subsequent days, a borrowed lulav is valid, because ownership is not required. The distinction between the first day and the following days is therefore that a stolen lulav is invalid throughout, while a borrowed lulav is invalid only on the first day.
The Gemara continues with a statement of Rabbi Yohanan, based on the verse in Isaiah: “For I am the Lord who loves justice and hates a stolen offering.” At first glance, this is difficult. If someone brings a stolen sacrifice, what could be stolen from God? Everything belongs to God. A person may steal the animal from another person, but when he brings it to God, it is being returned to its true Owner. Nevertheless, the verse says that God hates stolen sacrifices.
The Gemara offers a parable. There was a mortal king who passed by the tax collectors. He said to his servants, “Pay the tax to the tax collectors.” They said to him, “But all the taxes belong to you. Why should you pay them?” He answered, “I want everyone who passes by to learn from me and not evade the tax. If they see the king paying, they will say that everyone must pay.”
So too, the Holy One, blessed be He, says, “I am the Lord who hates a stolen offering.” God wants people to learn from Him that they must not steal. Although everything technically belongs to God, He does not want people to bring stolen items as offerings, because that would teach people that theft is acceptable.
The Gemara then says that this statement proves that the reason a stolen lulav is prohibited on the subsequent days is that it is a commandment performed through a transgression. We learned that a dry lulav is invalid because it lacks beauty, while a stolen lulav is invalid because the commandment was performed through a transgression.
There is, however, an argument here. On the second day, if a borrowed lulav is valid, that means the lulav does not have to belong to the person taking it. If so, why should a stolen lulav be invalid? The answer given is that the rule concerning a stolen lulav is not based on ownership; it is based on the fact that the commandment is being performed through a transgression. The fact that ownership is not required does not permit one to use an object acquired through theft.
Another opinion does not accept this proof. That opinion maintains that the second day’s obligation is rabbinic, and therefore the principle derived from the Torah’s requirement of ownership on the first day does not necessarily apply in the same way. Nevertheless, the stolen lulav remains invalid because of the principle that a commandment cannot be fulfilled through a transgression.
Rabbi Nachman bar Yitzchak challenges the opinion of Rabbi Yitzchak bar Nachmani from our Mishnah. The Mishnah says, “A stolen or dried-out lulav is invalid,” while a borrowed lulav is valid. If the Mishnah is speaking about the first day, that cannot be correct, because the verse says “yours,” and a borrowed lulav is not yours. If the Mishnah is speaking about the second day, then it implies that a borrowed lulav is valid while a stolen lulav is invalid. This supports the view that a stolen lulav is invalid on the second day as well.
The Gemara answers that the Mishnah does not need to mention a borrowed lulav. Of course, a borrowed lulav is invalid on the first day because it does not belong to the person taking it. The novelty of the Mishnah is that even a stolen lulav is invalid on the first day.
Why would that be a novelty? One might have thought that ordinary theft involves the owner immediately relinquishing hope. Theft means that a person walks up to someone and grabs the lulav directly from his hands. Since the owner sees the theft happen in front of him, one might assume that he immediately gives up hope of recovering the lulav.
If the owner has relinquished hope, and if relinquishing hope transfers ownership, the thief might own the lulav. One might then think that a stolen lulav is valid on the first day, because theft could result in ownership, whereas a borrowed lulav can never become the borrower’s property.
The Mishnah therefore teaches that we do not assume that an owner has relinquished hope merely because an item was stolen openly. Until we know that the owner actually relinquished hope, we cannot assume it. The owner may say, “He is stronger than I am today and overpowered me, but I am not giving up. I will take the lulav back.” Therefore, unless we know explicitly that the owner relinquished hope, the thief has not acquired the lulav, and it is invalid on the first day.
The Gemara now turns to a new matter. Rav Huna instructed the peddlers, the merchants who sold small vessels and other merchandise, regarding the myrtle branches they purchased from non-Jews before Sukkot. He told them: When you buy the myrtle branches from non-Jews, do not cut them yourselves. Let the non-Jews cut them and give them to you.
Why? Ordinarily, we are concerned that the non-Jew may have taken the field from a Jew. Land itself cannot be stolen in the same manner as movable property. If a person enters someone else’s field and merely stands there, he has not taken the land into his possession. The land remains in the possession of its original owner.
But when a person cuts the myrtle branch, it is no longer attached to the land. At that moment it becomes a tangible object. If the Jewish merchant cuts a branch from a field that originally belonged to a Jew, he becomes the thief, because he has detached the branch from the field and acquired the movable object through theft.
Therefore, Rav Huna advised the Jewish merchants to let the non-Jewish sellers do the cutting. If the non-Jew cuts the branch and gives it to the Jewish merchant, the Jewish merchant is not the person who detached it from the field. We will see precisely how this helps, but the basic concern is clear: if the Jewish merchant cuts the branch himself, he may become the thief at the moment of detachment.
Rashi explains that land cannot be stolen in the same manner as movable property. Even if the owner relinquishes hope, there is no ordinary acquisition of the land by the thief. The land always remains in the possession of its original owner. But once the branch is cut, it is no longer land. It becomes a tangible object, and the person who cuts it may acquire it through theft.
If the field is known to belong to the non-Jew, there is no problem. The non-Jew may cut the branch, and the Jewish merchant may take it. The concern arises when one buys myrtle branches from a non-Jew without knowing whose field they came from. The field might have been taken from a Jew. Therefore, the Jewish merchant should not become involved in the act of cutting.
At first glance, one might ask: Why did Rav Huna not simply give the stronger reason that if the Jewish merchant cuts the branch himself, he becomes a thief? Why does the discussion emphasize the later change in the status of the object and the resulting problem of a commandment performed through a transgression?
The answer given by the commentators is that, in practice, land in the possession of non-Jews is not necessarily presumed to have been stolen. It may indeed belong to the non-Jew. Therefore, the issue of theft cannot be established with certainty. The concern about theft is possible, but not definite. With regard to fulfilling a commandment, however, the matter is treated more stringently, and the possibility that the branch came through theft creates a problem.
The Gemara now asks: If the non-Jew cuts the branch, what is the problem? The owner has relinquished hope, and there has also been a change of possession. The branch passed from the possession of the non-Jew to that of the Jewish merchant. If relinquishing hope together with a change of possession transfers ownership, then the Jewish merchant should acquire the branch.
The Gemara answers that the peddlers themselves were using the myrtle branches rather than selling them. If they were selling them, there would be a change of possession after the owner’s relinquishing hope. But when the peddler cuts the branch and uses it himself, there is no subsequent transfer to another person. That is why Rav Huna told the non-Jewish sellers to do the cutting.
The Gemara then considers another possible way in which the Jewish merchant could acquire the branch: relinquishing hope together with a change produced by an act. If a person steals an object in one form and then changes its essential form through an act, that is called a change through an act. Relinquishing hope together with such a change can transfer ownership.
Thus, one might say that even if the peddler is using the branch himself, he can cut it, and then he has the owner’s relinquishing hope together with a change produced by an act. The Gemara answers that the branch is being used as part of the lulav. According to the opinion that the lulav must be tied together with the myrtle and willow branches, tying them together could itself constitute a change through an act.
Once the myrtle branches are tied to the lulav, they become part of the bundle used for the commandment. If that tying constitutes a change through an act, then the peddler would acquire the branches through the combination of relinquishing hope and that change.
The Gemara answers that this depends on the dispute as to whether the lulav must be tied. According to the opinion that the lulav does not require binding, the merchant does not have to tie the myrtle branches to it. Since the tying is not necessary, it does not provide the required change through an act.
Even according to the opinion that the lulav does require binding, the Gemara offers another answer. A change that can be reversed and returned to its original state is not considered a true change. After Sukkot, the merchant can untie the branches, and they return to the way they were before. A permanent change, such as turning a piece of wood into a cup, would be a change through an act. But tying the branches is a reversible change, and therefore it is not considered a sufficient change of form.
The Gemara offers one more possibility: relinquishing hope together with a change in the name of the object. If the name of an item changes, that can also transfer ownership. Originally, before Sukkot, the myrtle branch is called a myrtle. Once it is purchased for Sukkot and attached to the lulav, it is called a hoshanah. Since its name has changed, perhaps the merchant acquires it.
The Gemara rejects this answer. Even before the branch is attached to the lulav, people selling these items for Sukkot already call it a hoshanah. Therefore, there is no genuine change in name. It was called a hoshanah from the beginning, and so the name change cannot serve as the acquisition.
There is a difficulty here. Earlier, the Gemara said that a reversible change is not considered a change through an act, because after Sukkot the branches can be untied and return to their original status. If so, the change in name also appears to be temporary: during Sukkot the branches are called hoshanot, but afterward they return to being called myrtle branches. Why does the Gemara raise this as a possible acquisition?
Tosafot explains that the Gemara may be suggesting a combination. Even if the change through an act is weak because it can be reversed, perhaps a reversible change through an act together with a change in name would be sufficient to transfer ownership. The Gemara rejects this because there was no actual change in name. The branches were already called hoshanot when they were being sold for Sukkot. Therefore, the two changes cannot combine.
Let us review the discussion. Rav Huna advised the peddlers that when they purchase myrtle branches from non-Jews, they should not cut them themselves. They should allow the non-Jews to cut the branches and then give them to the Jewish merchants.
The reason is that the field may originally have belonged to a Jew. While the branch is attached to the land, it is not treated as a movable object that can be stolen and acquired in the ordinary manner. Once it is cut, however, it becomes a tangible object. If the Jewish merchant cuts it, he may become the thief at the moment of detachment. By allowing the non-Jew to cut it, the Jewish merchant avoids that problem. This concludes today’s discussion.