“All movable objects transmit impurity.”

What resonates today for me, putting aside the heated debate between Shammai and Hillel, is this: “All movable objects transmit impurity.” I am envisioning our entire global population transmitting this frightening coronavirus from one person to another until we are all infected and some of us will die (the estimate is one million people). I live in New York City which has become the epicenter of this disease after it has flowed through China and Italy. The density in this city and the potential for mass infection is frightening.

“The decree that the daughters of the Samaritans [kutim] are considered to already have the status of menstruating women from their cradle, their birth, they issued on that day.”

Is there some sort of message in the discussion about whether a glass vessel remains impure if it is broken and then reconstituted? The Talmud tells us that there is no ‘retroactive impurity” and the vessel becomes impure merely from the point when it is recast. Is there a lesson here about letting go of past transgressions and moving forward with one’s life? Perhaps to be free to enter into new transgressions, since the broken vessels could be considered newly impure once they are reassembled. I admit I am digging very deeply for some meaning in all this analysis of broken vessels. It does seem as though a lot of glasses, plates, utensils and vessels must have been broken in pieces in those days in a sacrifice to purity. I imagine lots of shards of broken glass that could be repurposed for the creation of beautiful mosaics.

“On that day they disagreed, and the following day, after the matter was decided in a vote, they reached a consensus in their opinions.”

Shammai and Hillel, like Rav and Shmuel, were known for their disagreements. In today’s text, they are arguing on eighteen matters of purity, which from the present-day perspective seem like an argument over if an angel can dance upon the head of a pin. I discovered through my research that they had an estimated 300 disagreements among them. Their disagreements included a debate on how to separate the portion of dough given to a priest, the measure of drawn water in a bath that would disqualify it from being a proper ritual immersion, the harvesting of grapes, and the timing of the onset of menstruation.

“And the hands”

I am wondering about the purification ritual that required immersion in the stinky, most likely contaminated water that resided within a cave. Was this a source of disease? Why would the Rabbis render the clean water impure that one would pour on himself after emerging from the cave water “to prevent them from washing with it after immersion.” If the stagnant cave water was as “stinky” as I can imagine, why wouldn’t the Rabbis want someone to cleanse away the smell with designated clean water? Was it some sort of emblem of faith to walk around smelling so bad? In a twisted logic that I am still trying to unravel, Rava says that the clean water is considered “impure” so that the person undergoing immersion will not confuse it with the pure “stinky” water.

“The case with the fowl and cheese is different from the case between the husband and wife.”

The Zav appears for the third day in a row along with his allegedly impure wife, the Zava. We learn that two wrongs do not make a right, and two impure people cannot eat together, even though they are both supposedly contaminated. Everything our Zav touches becomes impure, just like someone who is a carrier of Covid-19 passes infection through his touch and invisible exchange of airborne respiratory droplets.

“The merit of Shabbat is capable of engendering compassion.”

Who is this Zav who walks about with his pouch in a state of impurity? He has made an appearance two days in a row in our readings. Can he be compared with someone who is carelessly walking around during this time of pandemic, perhaps infecting others with his impurity? And what about this person who goes out at night on the Shabbos flouting his phylacteries? Is he violating some sort of pandemic curfew? And by touching his phylacteries at all times is he unwittingly exposing himself to disease? And who are all these men who wear fancy clothes who might confuse them for their wives’ garments without the proper light? And how about the men whose clothes are ridden with lice but are prohibited from shaking the vermin off on the Shabbos because “even though it is a very small creature, it is as if he killed a camel.” Are they spreading disease through their lack of social distancing and poor hygiene?

“Even if all the seas would be ink, and the reeds that grow near swamps would be quills, and the heavens would be parchment upon which the words would be written, and all the people would be scribes; all of these are insufficient to write the unquantifiable space of governmental authority.”

This poetic passage (and what is more poetic than “even if all the seas were ink….”) is very relevant to the decisions our governments around the world are being asked to make right now in the wake of the coronavirus. It is not an easy decision to essentially batten down the hatches and shut down all commerce and educational activities. The decision is wreaking havoc with our economy and our lives. Are our respective governments making the right call? All we can do is trust that in fact they are because making the wrong call on the more conservative side of the equation and keeping people home is less risky than the other option. Romemu Synagogue in New York City where I am a member decided to cancel in-person services two weeks ago ahead of most other religious institutions, which was a very brave call. Most others institutions have since followed.

“Rava bar Rav Huna would don expensive socks and pray and he said he would do this as it is written: “Prepare to greet your God, Israel.”

There are lots of interesting perspectives to consider today and some of it is contrary to what I have always believed.

Today’s text establishes principles for appearing before God during prayer. Rav Huna would wear his fanciest socks, while Rava would remove his cloak, and Rav Kahana would dress according to whether there is peace in the world. A distinction is made between prayer and study of Torah, with the Torah taking precedence over all else. I am inferring that this is because all knowledge flows from the Torah, and it is central to how we live our lives, pray, and determine judgments.

“A person may not sit before the barber adjacent to the time of minḥa until he recites the afternoon prayer. And a person may not enter the bathhouse and may not enter to work in a tannery. And he may neither begin to eat a meal nor to sit in judgment until he prays.”

Today we learn about activities that are best not started adjacent to the afternoon prayer and especially on the onset of the Sabbath when things are much more rushed: sitting for a haircut, working in a tannery, sitting in judgment of another or engaging in a large meal.

“The Gemara asks: This threshold, what is it; to what type of threshold is it referring?”

Dear Rabbis of 2,000 years ago: I am standing on your threshold of learning, passing knowledge from your Talmud (a transitional domain?) to mine (a private domain?) I have no right addressing you or reading your sacred text. You could never have imagined someone like me doing so when you wrote down all that oral wisdom so many years ago. I am a terrible Jew. I am writing this on the Sabbath and there is intention involved, since I know what I am doing. I studied English Literature in College and Graduate School rather than Judaism and did not return to synagogue until recently, and even now, not often enough. I know the poetry of Galway Kinnell by heart but not much more than the first verse of the Shema.

“All the more so a bench is considered a karmelit.”

Among all the throwing of juicy figs in today’s text is the discussion of a simple bench, which is determined to be a karmelit or an intermediate domain. The bench is described as a place merchants can put their wares, perhaps for just a moment as they carry heavy loads from town to town. It is an intermediate place between different domains. It can also be a place for strangers to sit side by side and for a brief moment share their thoughts and fears before they resume their respective journeys. It is an intermediate place, but the humble wood or stone structure can serve as a connection point among strangers.

“This labor of carrying out from domain to domain, is among those prohibited labors with regard to which there is no uncertainty and it is clear that one is liable for karet and stoning for its violation.”

I am finding the protracted dialog on public and private domains and carrying forward and lifting and sliding and handbreadths difficult to wade through. The miniscule parsing of what constitutes a private vs public domain is exasperating. How can a ditch really be a private domain that is ten handbreadths deep and four handbreadths wide and a fence that is of the same dimension be considered “full-fledged private domains?” And who is going to crawl into that ditch to find out? And why bother defining an alleyway and plaza as public domains when they clearly are public spaces? We are also brought back to the time when we wandered the desert in the discussion of public domains: “it refers to the time when the Israelites were dwelling in the desert.” Today’s email from My Jewish Learning reminds us that the Rabbis are obsessed with obeying the Sabbath and there are another 150 pages to go of this discussion.

“The labors prohibited on Shabbat are derived from the labors that were performed in the building of the Tabernacle during the encampment of Israel in the desert, and the desert was most definitely not covered.”

I am a little dazed from all the carrying, catching, lifting, throwing, and running between domains. What resonated with me today is the reference to the tabernacle in the desert.

“All those who sin unwittingly and are therefore liable to bring sin-offerings are only liable if the beginning of their action was unwitting and the end of their action was unwitting.”

One of the major lessons I have learned from this journey through the Talmud is the importance of intention. Today, it is driven home in the discussion of baking bread on the Sabbath. If someone - let’s call him Schlemiel -- places a loaf of bread in the oven on the Sabbath and has forgotten what day it is, and remains unaware throughout the bread baking process, he is not held liable and is not required to remove the bread. The crucial point is that there was no intention on the part of our forgetful friend to violate the Sabbath. (Although I half expect some rabbi to call him an ignoramus.)

“Although one who performs the action is exempt by Torah law, his action is prohibited by rabbinic law.”

I found today’s reading about hands going in and out of the four domains and what is permitted vs. what is prohibited rather dense to get through.

“The acts of carrying out on Shabbat are two that comprise four.”