The Mishnah discusses a person who vowed to bring a meal offering prepared in a shallow pan but instead brought it in a deep pan, which is a different type of utensil. Alternatively, he said, “I undertake to bring a deep-pan offering,” but brought it in a shallow pan. In either case, he did not bring what he had said he would bring. What he brought counts as a voluntary offering, but he has not fulfilled his obligation. He must bring a new offering for his vow.
The Mishnah continues: If the flour was in front of him and he pointed to it, saying, “I will bring this as a shallow-pan offering,” but instead brought it as a deep-pan offering, or the reverse, the offering is invalid. Once he designated that flour for the utensil he mentioned, he could not change it to a different utensil.
The next case is a person who said, “I undertake to bring two measures of flour in one utensil,” but brought them in two utensils, or who said he would bring them in two utensils but brought them in one. What he brought counts as a voluntary offering, but he has not fulfilled his vow. He must bring the offering in the precise manner he specified.
If the flour was in front of him and he said, “I will bring this flour in one utensil,” but then brought it in two, or said he would bring it in two and brought it in one, the same principle applies: because he designated these particular items and brought them in a manner different from what he had vowed, the offering is invalid with respect to his vow.
As Rashi explains, if he said he would bring the flour in one utensil but brought it in two, the offering is deficient. A separate handful would have to be taken from each utensil, whereas he had designated only one handful. Conversely, if he said he would bring it in two utensils but brought it in one, the contents of the single utensil are excessive for the required procedure. In both cases, the offering he brought is not the offering he vowed to bring.
The Mishnah then discusses a person who said he would bring the offering in one utensil but brought it in two. People saw what he was doing and told him, “You vowed to bring it in one utensil.” Even after they called his attention to the matter, he continued and brought it in two utensils. That offering is invalid. If, however, he brought it in one utensil, it is valid.
Why is the first offering invalid rather than being treated as a voluntary offering? Since people told him that he was not fulfilling his vow, he should have responded, “This is a different offering; I know that I said I would bring the first one in one utensil.” The fact that he did not say that indicates that he considered what he was now bringing to be the offering of his vow. Since he did not bring it in the manner he had specified, it is invalid even as a voluntary offering.
The next case is a person who said he would bring two measures in two utensils but instead brought them in one. Again, people told him, “What are you doing? You said that you would bring them in two utensils.” If he ignored them and continued, the offering is invalid. Had he brought the two measures in two separate utensils, it would have been valid.
The reason is that when two offerings are placed in the same utensil, they become invalid if they are mixed together. If they remain separate within the same utensil, however, a separate handful may be taken from each, and they are valid. Therefore, in the case of two offerings that were meant to be in two utensils but were placed together in one, the offering is invalid.
The Gemara asks why the Mishnah needs all these cases. It already taught that when a person had the flour before him and said he would bring it in a shallow pan but brought it in a deep pan, or the reverse, he did not fulfill his obligation. Why is it necessary to add the case in which he vowed to bring the flour in one utensil and brought it in two, or vowed to bring it in two and brought it in one? What additional principle is being taught?
The Gemara answers that both cases are necessary. If it had taught only the case of the shallow pan and the deep pan, one might have thought that the offering is invalid because he used the wrong type of utensil. Perhaps, however, when he used the correct type of utensil but divided the offering differently from what he had specified—bringing it in one instead of two, or in two instead of one—the offering would be valid. The second case teaches that this is not so.
Conversely, if the Mishnah had taught only the case in which he divided the offering incorrectly, one might have thought that the offering is invalid because he divided one large offering into two offerings. Perhaps, however, when he brought the proper type of offering in the proper utensil, even though he used the wrong number of utensils, it would be valid. The Mishnah therefore teaches both cases: changing the type of utensil is invalid, and changing the number of utensils is also invalid.
The Gemara then returns to the case in which he pointed to the flour and said, “I will bring this as a shallow-pan offering,” but brought it as a deep-pan offering. The Mishnah says that what he brought counts as a voluntary offering, but he has not fulfilled his vow. Rabbi Shimon says that even in this case he has fulfilled his vow. In Rabbi Shimon’s view, the utensil is not an essential component of the vow. If the person vowed to bring a meal offering, changing the utensil does not prevent him from fulfilling that vow.
There is a teaching that appears to support Rabbi Shimon. If changing the utensil makes the offering invalid, why does the Mishnah say that it is invalid? Since the utensil does not sanctify the offering in this situation, one should be able to remove the flour from the incorrect utensil and place it in the correct one. The answer is that when the Mishnah says “invalid,” it does not mean that the offering has no sanctity at all and may simply be brought again. It means that it has a form of sanctity that prevents it from being offered on the altar, even though it has not fulfilled the person’s vow.
Abaye qualifies the ruling. The statement that the offering is invalid when the person vowed to bring it in one type of utensil and brought it in another applies only when he specified the utensil at the time of the vow. When the flour was before him and he said, “This is a shallow-pan offering,” the designation was made at the moment of the vow.
If, however, at the time of the vow he merely said, “I undertake to bring a meal offering,” without specifying the utensil, and only later, at the time he set aside the flour, he decided to bring it in a shallow pan but ultimately brought it in a deep pan, the offering is valid. Everything is determined by what he said at the time of the vow, not by what he said at the time he set aside the offering.
This is derived from the expression “as you vowed,” which indicates that the determining statement is the vow itself and not the later act of designation. The Gemara cites a teaching in the name of Rabbi Aḥa bar Ḥanina in the name of Rabbi Yoḥanan: the rule applies when the person specified the utensil at the time of the vow, but not when he specified it only at the time of designation. Rashi explains that the verse says “as you vowed,” meaning as you said at the time of the vow, rather than “as you designated,” referring to the later stage.
The Mishnah then discusses a person who says, “I undertake to bring a meal offering from barley.” That is not a valid meal offering, because a meal offering is not brought from barley. The Mishnah says that he brings it from wheat. If he said, “I undertake to bring a meal offering from flour,” he brings it from fine flour. If he said, “I undertake to bring it with oil but without frankincense,” he brings oil and frankincense. If he said he would bring one and a half measures, he brings two, because half-measures are not brought in this offering.
In all these cases, the person is exempt from the vow he expressed in an improper manner. He did not formulate the vow as a normal meal-offering vow. Barley is not a valid basis for the offering, flour without the required refinement is not the proper offering, and an offering without the required oil or frankincense is not properly formulated. The Mishnah therefore says that he is exempt from bringing the offering as he described it.
Abaye asks: Why must he bring anything at all? A person has his vow and he has a way to annul or escape from a mistaken vow. In this case, he said that he would bring a meal offering from barley, even though he knew that a meal offering cannot be brought from barley. That could simply be another way of expressing that he had changed his mind. Why should he be required to bring a wheat meal offering?
The Gemara explains that this follows the view of Beit Shammai, who maintain that the initial wording of a statement is binding. The person first said, “I undertake a meal offering,” and that creates an obligation to bring a meal offering. The later words, “from barley,” are disregarded because they are impossible. The person remains obligated to bring a valid meal offering.
How do we know that Beit Shammai follow the initial wording? The Mishnah discusses a person who says, “I am a nazirite from dried figs and fig cakes.” Dried figs and fig cakes have no connection to the laws of naziriteship. Beit Shammai say that he is nevertheless a nazirite, because the initial wording, “I am a nazirite,” is binding, while the later words are disregarded. Beit Hillel say that he is not a nazirite, because the later words demonstrate what he intended, and there is no such thing as naziriteship from dried figs.
One way to explain the Mishnah is therefore that it follows Beit Shammai. The person first said, “I undertake a meal offering,” and the later reference to barley cannot undo the initial obligation.
It is also possible, however, to explain the Mishnah according to Beit Hillel. Beit Hillel would agree that a person is not always able to retract his first words. If he clearly says, “I had no idea that an offering could not be brought from barley; I truly thought that barley was acceptable,” then even Beit Hillel would agree that his statement about barley shows that he made a mistake. He meant to bring a valid meal offering but mistakenly described it as one made from barley. If he had known the halachah, he would not have formulated the vow in that way.
In that case, the mention of barley is not an attempt to retract the vow. It is an explanation of his mistake. The Mishnah could therefore be speaking about an ordinary case in which the person made an error, rather than about the principle that the initial wording is always binding.
Hezekiah initially says that the Mishnah follows Beit Shammai and the principle that the initial wording is binding. If the person says, “I undertake a meal offering from lentils,” then even Beit Shammai would say that he does not have to bring anything. The word “lentils” is so clearly outside the category of a meal offering that it shows that he was retracting or invalidating his original statement.
Hezekiah later retracts this explanation. The reason is that, if the Mishnah followed Beit Shammai, it should have presented the more obvious case of lentils rather than barley. Barley can at least be confused with wheat, and a person might plausibly say that he thought a meal offering could be brought from barley. Lentils are clearly not used for such an offering. The greater novelty would have been to teach that even when he says lentils, the initial wording remains binding.
Rabbi Yoḥanan holds that even when a person says, “I undertake a meal offering from lentils,” he must bring a meal offering. How can this be reconciled with the earlier discussion? The Gemara notes that Rabbi Yoḥanan is generally associated with Beit Hillel, who do not necessarily bind a person to his first words when the later words reveal his intention.
The answer is that Rabbi Yoḥanan is speaking about a person who later says, “If I had known that an offering could not be brought from lentils, I would not have made this vow.” In that case, he is not merely claiming ignorance about the law. He is saying that the entire vow was based on a mistake, and if he had known the truth, he would not have vowed at all. According to that explanation, the Mishnah can follow Beit Hillel.
Hezekiah’s retraction is therefore understood as follows: he first suggested that the Mishnah followed Beit Shammai, because the initial wording is binding. He then realized that the Mishnah did not state the stronger case of lentils. It stated barley, where the person can plausibly claim that he thought barley was acceptable. That suggests that the Mishnah is instead discussing a mistaken vow according to Beit Hillel.
The Gemara raises another issue. Perhaps the person did not say, “I undertake a meal offering, from barley,” as two separate expressions. Perhaps he said one combined phrase: “I undertake a barley meal offering.” If so, there is no initial wording of “meal offering” followed by a second wording of “barley” that can be disregarded. The entire expression is one phrase, and the vow should be invalid.
The Gemara answers that the cases of the Mishnah must be understood as though the person first said “meal offering” and then added the particular detail. Only when there are two separate expressions can one say that the initial wording is binding and the later wording falls away.
This creates a problem in the later case. The Mishnah says that if a person says, “I undertake one and a half measures,” he brings two measures. If the word “meal offering” must be supplied at the beginning of every case, how is this case to be understood? The Gemara explains that the person said, “I undertake a meal offering, half a measure and a full measure.” The phrase “meal offering” establishes the basic obligation, while the half-measure is disregarded and the additional full measure creates a second obligation. He must therefore bring two complete measures.
The same approach is applied to the other cases. The wording is arranged so that the person first establishes the obligation to bring a meal offering, after which he adds an impossible or deficient detail. The later detail is disregarded, while the basic obligation remains.
Rabbi Shimon, however, has a different approach. He does not rely exclusively on the first wording or exclusively on the last wording. He considers the later words an explanation of what the person meant by the earlier words. When the person says, “I undertake a meal offering—one and a half measures,” he is explaining the amount of the meal offering he intends to bring. Since there is no such thing as a meal offering of one and a half measures, we interpret the statement as requiring two measures.
According to Beit Shammai, the initial wording is decisive: “Meal offering” means one standard measure, and the later half-measure is ignored. The additional full measure remains as a second obligation. According to Rabbi Shimon, the entire statement is interpreted together. The later wording explains the first wording, and the person is understood to have vowed to bring two offerings.
The Mishnah then teaches that a person may donate as much as sixty measures of fine flour, and all sixty may be placed in one utensil. If he says that he will bring sixty-one measures, he brings sixty in one utensil and the remaining one in a separate utensil. The maximum amount that may be placed in one utensil is sixty measures.
The Mishnah explains this by referring to the communal offerings brought on the first day of Sukkot when that day falls on Shabbat. The communal offerings on that day require a total of sixty-one measures of fine flour. Since the community brings sixty-one measures, an individual should not bring more than sixty in one utensil. The individual must remain below the communal offering by at least one measure.
Rashi calculates the total as follows. There are thirteen bulls, with three measures of flour for each, for a total of thirty-nine. There are fourteen rams, with one measure for each, bringing the total to fifty-three. There are two rams requiring two measures each, adding four and bringing the total to fifty-seven. The daily offerings and the additional offerings for Shabbat contribute another four measures, bringing the total to sixty-one.
The initial assumption is that all these meal offerings could be placed together in a single utensil. The Gemara challenges this assumption. Rabbi Shimon says that the meal offerings of the bulls, rams, and sheep cannot be mixed together, because their proportions of oil differ. Some are thicker and some are thinner. If they are mixed, the oil associated with one offering will be absorbed into another. One offering will then be deficient and another excessive.
The meal offering of a bull is particularly thick, because it contains three measures of flour for each measure of oil, whereas the other offerings have different proportions. These mixtures cannot simply be combined in one utensil. The flour of one offering will absorb the oil from another, and the individual offerings will no longer have their required proportions.
If so, why does the Mishnah say that a person who vows to bring sixty-one measures must divide them between two utensils? The answer is that up to sixty measures can be mixed properly, but sixty-one cannot. This is a practical limit concerning the ability to mix the flour and oil. Once the amount exceeds sixty, it is no longer possible to mix the offering properly in one utensil.
The Gemara asks whether this means that sixty measures mix properly but sixty-one do not. The answer is that the Sages must establish a precise measure. Just as a ritual bath requires forty units of water, and a bath containing thirty-nine and a fraction does not qualify, the Sages must establish a fixed boundary. Similarly, a quantity the size of an olive is significant for certain laws, while a quantity smaller by even a tiny amount is not. A garment measuring three handbreadths by three handbreadths has one status, while a garment missing even a single thread from that measurement does not have it. The Sages establish a precise measure, and here the boundary is sixty.
The Gemara then asks what difference it makes if the mixture is difficult to combine. Perhaps even if the person failed to mix it properly, the offering would still be valid. The answer is that when a mixture is fit to be mixed, the failure to mix it does not invalidate it after the fact. But when the quantity is not even fit to be mixed properly, the mixing becomes an essential requirement. Since sixty-one measures cannot be properly mixed in one utensil, the offering is invalid if they are all placed there together.
Rashi explains that any quantity that is fit to be mixed—for example, sixty measures with the required amount of oil—is valid even if it was not actually mixed. The mixing itself is not essential. But where the quantity is not fit to be mixed, the ability to mix is essential, and the offering is invalid if the mixture cannot properly be made.
The Gemara cites a teaching in the name of Rabbi Yehuda bar Elai, who was known as the first speaker wherever a public discourse was held. The reason for this title is connected to an incident involving the Roman government. Rabbi Yehuda spoke favorably about the Roman authorities, while others spoke negatively. The report reached the authorities, and Rabbi Shimon bar Yoḥai was forced to flee. When the government heard that Rabbi Yehuda had spoken favorably, they instituted that Rabbi Yehuda should speak first whenever a public discourse took place.
Rabbi Yehuda bar Elai asks: From where do we know that a person who vows to bring sixty-one measures must divide them between two utensils? He answers that the communal offering on the first day of Sukkot when it falls on Shabbat contains sixty-one measures. An individual should not be equal to the community, so he may place only sixty measures in one utensil.
The Gemara challenges this proof. Some of the communal offerings are brought in the morning and some in the afternoon. It is possible that the meal offerings are not placed together at all. Why, then, should the communal total prove that sixty-one measures can be placed in one utensil?
The response is that the issue is not necessarily the communal practice. The relevant point may be the physical ability to mix the flour and oil. The quantity of sixty is still considered capable of being mixed, whereas sixty-one is not. Even if the communal offerings were brought at different times, the fixed measure established by the Sages remains sixty.
The Gemara raises another possibility: perhaps the Mishnah’s ruling is only post facto. If a person did place sixty-one measures in one utensil, perhaps the offering is valid after the fact, even though he should not have done so initially. The discussion does not accept that as the explanation. The limit of sixty is treated as the point beyond which the mixture cannot properly be made, and the mixing is therefore essential.
The Gemara then brings another teaching in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi. There was once a mule belonging to the house of Rabbi that died, and the Sages measured the blood that came from it. They wanted to determine whether the blood of a carcass has the ritual impurity of a carcass.
An animal that dies without proper slaughter has the impurity of a carcass. The edible parts of the animal, such as its flesh, bones, and other parts that are considered fit for use, transmit that impurity. There is a dispute, however, concerning the blood. One view is that blood from a carcass also transmits the impurity, while another view maintains that it does not.
Rabbi Yitzhak bar Bisna challenges the report about the mule with a story transmitted by Rabbi Yehoshua ben Batera. In one place, wild donkeys were being killed and fed to lions belonging to the king. People traveling to Jerusalem for the pilgrimage festivals had to walk through the blood, which reached up to their knees. No one warned them that they had become impure.
If the blood of a carcass transmits impurity, these travelers should have become impure by walking through the blood. The story therefore appears to demonstrate that the blood of a carcass is pure and does not transmit the impurity of the carcass.
Rabbi Yitzhak bar Bisna asks why the report about the mule should be accepted in light of this story. The response is that the person who had been asked about the matter could not answer. He did not have the peace of mind necessary to respond to the question.
The Gemara explains this through the verse describing a curse in which a person eats his bread with anxiety. Someone who lives from year to year, uncertain whether his field will produce, must purchase the grain for the entire year in advance. That uncertainty itself is a curse.
The verse then describes fear by night and by day. This refers to someone who lives from week to week and does not know how he will provide for the following week. It then says, “You will not believe in your life,” which refers to someone who lives from day to day and must obtain his bread each day. Such a person does not know whether he will have food for that day.
The person who could not answer was in that situation himself. He lived from day to day and did not know what he would eat. Since he was preoccupied with obtaining his daily bread, he did not have the peace of mind to answer a complicated halachic question.
The Gemara finally explains that the person who had been sent to measure the blood was Rabbi Yehudah, who served as the legal authority for the household of the Nasi. He followed the view that the blood of a carcass is impure. This is why he measured the blood: he was trying to establish the relevant measure.
Rabbi Yehudah taught that there are six matters in which Beit Shammai are lenient and Beit Hillel are stringent, contrary to the usual pattern. The question of blood from a carcass is one of those cases according to his view. Beit Shammai say that the blood is pure, while Beit Hillel say that it is impure.
Even according to Beit Hillel, the stricter view applies only when the blood congeals into the size of an olive. With ordinary flesh, the size of an olive is the measure that transmits the impurity of a carcass. The Sages therefore calculated how much liquid blood would congeal into the size of an olive. That is the amount of blood to which the stricter ruling applies.
Other Sages disagreed and did not consider this one of the six cases in which Beit Shammai are lenient and Beit Hillel are stringent. In their view, Beit Shammai are stringent here and Beit Hillel are lenient, as usual. According to them, the blood of a carcass does not transmit impurity. The disagreement over the blood is therefore also a disagreement over whether this matter belongs among the six exceptional cases.
Since Rabbi Yehudah followed the view that this was one of those six cases, he treated the blood as impure and measured it accordingly. The other Sages did not accept that classification. Nevertheless, according to Rabbi Yehudah’s position, his conduct is understood: he was following Beit Hillel as he understood their ruling in this matter.