Tag Archives: Talmud

Well, Rabbi, welcome back to Madlik Disruptive Torah.

It’s great to have you.

You were in Chicago last week, but more importantly, I saw a post on Facebook.

You were on the Eli Fishman Podcast, and I’m going to include a link in the show notes to it.

One of the memorable lines, and he’s clearly a very Orthodox Rabbi.

He wanted you to come on to the podcast and talk about unity.

You said you want to talk about conversions, and he said about you, his passion for Gerut does not come without a shmear of controversy.

A shmear of controversy, Rabbi.

Is that what you have on your bagel every week?

Adam Mintz: Is that pretty funny?

He had a good turn of phrase, right?

Hopefully, we achieve a shmear of controversy in our discussion today about the parasha.

GS: If not controversy….  we’re going to be studying the Talmud, which is my happy place and which is my nurturing place.

So, if not, if not controversy, at least consolation.

And after all, we are still reading Haftarot that have to do with consolation.

So, I’m covered, right?

Adam Mintz:  Okay, you’re ready.

Let’s go.

Okay.

GS: So, in Deuteronomy 22, it says, 1-14, If you see your fellow Israelite’s ox or sheep gone astray, do not ignore it.

You must take it back to your peer.

הָשֵׁ֥ב תְּשִׁיבֵ֖ם לְאָחִֽיךָ

If your fellow Israelite does not live near you, or you do not know who the owner is, you shall bring it home and it shall reign with you until your peer claims it.

דְּרֹ֤שׁ אָחִ֙יךָ֙ אֹת֔וֹ וַהֲשֵׁבֹת֖וֹ לֽוֹ and you shall return it back to him.

You shall do the same with that person’s ass.

You shall do the same with that person’s garment.

And so, too, shall you do with anything that your fellow Israelite loses and you find.

You must not remain indifferent.

Wow, it says, לֹ֥א תוּכַ֖ל לְהִתְעַלֵּֽם.

You shouldn’t really hide your face from it.

Adam Mintz: Right, that’s what it means.

So, in this just very concise paragraph, it echoes something that was more fleetingly offered in Exodus 23.

It says, when you encounter your enemy’s ox or ass wandering, you must take it back, הָשֵׁ֥ב תְּשִׁיבֶ֖נּוּ לֽוֹ.

We have a really something that I think because of the Talmud and because of the beautiful tractate of Baba Meitzia and it’s being used maybe as the introductory tractate that every bachor yeshiva (Yeshiva student – youth), certainly I, was introduced to.

This has kind of become bigger than you might expect, but clearly it’s important to return to somebody what is theirs and this became a major mandate.

What was your experience with these rules?

AM: You know, it is no question that I learned Elu Metziut at the beginning of my Gemara exploration too.

So I actually know the Mishnah of Elu Metziot Shelo, v”elu chayav l’hachriz  אֵלּוּ מְצִיאוֹת שֶׁלּוֹ, וְאֵלּוּ חַיָּיב לְהַכְרִיז, more than I know the Parsha, because, you know, that’s just something that’s ingrained in me.

So this is a good topic.

And I think anyone who went to Yeshiva is going to be able to relate to this topic.

GS: And hopefully, if you haven’t gone to Yeshiva, you will listen to these two Bachurei Yeshiva talking about this and understand, at least from my perspective, where I developed such an attraction and love to the Sea of Talmud.

And at the end of the day, we are talking about lost objects and found objects.

When I read a text that I explored the first time in my youth, I really am engaged in lost and found.

And I never know what I will discover that I have lost, and I never know what it is I’m going to find.

It’s wonderful to go back to a text that you studied in your youth, is it not, Rabbi?

AM: It’s the best.

It is the best.

So let’s get going.

GS:  So, in the second chapter of Baba Metzia, it says Elu Metziot Shelo, v”elu chayav l’hachriz .

These are the found objects that you can keep, and these are the ones that you have to announce.

Then it says, Eilu Metzia shelo.

So again, everything in the Mishnah, which was an oral tradition, is designed so that we remember it…. And do not lose it..

And it almost has a sing-song to it.

So, B’meh Madlikin u’B’meh ‘ein Madlikin. בַּמֶּה מַדְלִיקִין וּבַמָּה אֵין מַדְלִיקִין

We say every Friday before services, with what can you light (the sabbbath candles) and with what can you not not light them with…with, and then it talks about what you can’t light with.

So, (back to our Mishneh) these are the things that you can keep.

Matzah Pe’rot M’fuzarot.

If you found fruit that is scattered, Ma’ot M’fuzarot, money that is scattered.

So the key thing here is, everything that we’re going to talk about are objects that have no distinguishing qualities to them that the person who lost them could use to identify them.

I think if I stop there, we’d all be on the same page.

But we’re going to see that the Talmud goes one step further.

It’s not only that he doesn’t have the ability to identify them (and therefore the find can keep it), but it’s because he doesn’t have the ability to identify them, that he gives up ownership in it (and therefor the finder can keep it).

And that’s where this becomes so exciting.

But let’s continue.

Kikorot b’eshut harabim are bread that you find in the public square.

So now we’re not only talking about how the objects are laid on the ground, but where they are laid on the ground.

If it’s lost in Grand Central, it’s going to have a different status than if it’s lost in a small nook.

V’igule’ de velo, v’kikorot shal nachtom, bread of the baker.

So bread of a baker is going to be different than homemade bread, because when we make bread at home, you can see it’s artisanal.

You can see our fingerprint on it.

But when it comes out of Pillsbury, not so much.

So already we have a society that’s used to having division of labor and there are professional bakers.

And then it goes on and it gives a bunch of other examples and it concludes.

הֲרֵי אֵלּוּ שֶׁלּוֹ, דִּבְרֵי רַבִּי מֵאִיר

These, all these things you can keep, because there’s no distinguishing characteristic.

These are the words of rabbi Meir.

Rabbi Yehuda says, רבִּי יְהוּדָה אוֹמֵר: כֹּל שֶׁיֵּשׁ בּוֹ שִׁינּוּי – חַיָּיב לְהַכְרִיז

Everything that has a distinction, a difference, You have to announce.

You got to go post it on the Lost & Found billboard.

AM: Right.

GS: כֵּיצַד? מָצָא עִגּוּל וּבְתוֹכוֹ חֶרֶס, כִּכָּר וּבְתוֹכוֹ מָעוֹת.

If he found a round cake of pressed figs with an earthenware shard inside it or a loaf of bread with coins inside it, these are all distinguishing characteristics.

Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar רבִּי שִׁמְעוֹן בֶּן אֶלְעָזָר אוֹמֵר: כׇּל כְּלֵי אַנְפּוּרְיָא אֵין חַיָּיב לְהַכְרִיז.

So Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar says, any object that is, and he uses a strange word, ampuria, which is, I would say, a Greek word, you do not have to return.

So, just kind of fascinating, I think, Rabbi, you and I could say about half of it, maybe a quarter by heart, because again, we studied it when we were young.

They say when you study things when you’re young, it’s like writing on a blank sheet.

Elisha ben Abuyah said: He who learns when a child, to what is he compared? To ink written upon a new writing sheet. Avot 4: 20

אֱלִישָׁע בֶּן אֲבוּיָה אוֹמֵר, הַלּוֹמֵד יֶלֶד לְמַה הוּא דוֹמֶה, לִדְיוֹ כְתוּבָה עַל נְיָר חָדָשׁ.

AM: That’s right.

GS: So these are old friends of ours.

Now, in the first thing that we’re going to discuss, because we are talking about Lost & Found, is a word that we don’t understand, Anpuria.

So if you go in to the Gemora, it says Rabbi Shimon said, Lazarus said, if one finds any Anpuria vessels, what are Anpuria vessels?

Rabbi Yehuda says, that Shmuel says, they are new vessels as the eye of its purchaser has not yet sufficiently seen them to be able to recognize them.

It basically talks about something that just arrived from Amazon and you even haven’t had a time to develop a relationship with it, to put any fingerprints or creases on it as the object may be.

Rashi says, it is still not differentiated by usage that can be well recognized.

The language of Anpuria is an abbreviation.

He says, it’s a notriokon νοταρικόν, which by the way is a Greek word for abbreviation.

AM: Right, that’s also a Greek word.

GS: And he says, anporia, An-po-ria means there is no proof.

So similar to some people who say Abra, Kadabra comes from the word Abra, I created it dabra I spoke.

That is an urban legend.

Rashi is saying, An-po-ri-a is ayn, there is not, po, here, reya proof or a visible criterion.

So again, we are engaged already in Lost & Found trying to understand what a word that has been forgotten/lost, mean.

AM: I think it’s fascinating.

And that’s great that the Mishnah, you know, the Mishnah uses a Greek word.

That would be like if the Mishnah today used an English word.

Everybody who read the Mishnah knew exactly what it meant.

We just happened now 2,000 years later not to know what it means.

GS: And we live in a day and age where there are those people that say that we should not be influenced by foreign societies…..  and Greece is the poster child of foreign culture and influence… stay in Jerusalem, not in Athens.

And here we have in the just a few words that I encountered at the age of 14 or 15, we have at least two Greek words, one, notrikon, which is the word for an abbreviation, but then, anpouria.

So if you look at the Sefaria show notes, I absolutely found the Greek word.

And the Greek word, it comes from a word that we know well, emporium, almost a mall, if you will, a trading place, a market.

It means merchandise.

It means things that are produced.

The word “emporium” comes from the Greek word empórion, which means “trading place or market”. It is derived from the Greek word emporós, which means “merchant or traveler”. The word emporós is a compound noun made up of em-, a variant of en-, which means “in, on”, and póros, which means “way, passage, journey”. 

The word “emporium” was first used in 1586. 

In classical antiquity, an emporium was a trading post, factory, or market. In the Late Classical and Hellenistic periods, emporia became cosmopolitan centers of commerce. For example, the island of Delos and Rhodes became prosperous after receiving tax exemptions from the Roman Senate and other rulers. 

The word “emporium” can also refer to a large retail store, especially one that sells a wide variety of products. Synonyms of “emporium” include bazaar, marketplace, and market. 

It was clear that they understood what the word meant.

There might have been a better word in Greek than in Hebrew, because again, it was something that came with the industrialization (mercantilism)  of society.

So here we have, in this page of Talmud, we are discovering how the rabbis interacted with the world and how they integrated concepts that were all around them into the text.

It’s just wonderful, isn’t it?

AM: Really is fantastic.

That’s a great thing to start off with.

Yeah, that’s good.

GS: And so when I went to college, I took Greek, and I said, I got to go learn Greek if I want to understand our texts.

So if we continue on what it is that the Mishneh is getting at, and we use our buddy Rashi, when he says, Eilu Mitzyot, he says, if he found something scattered, their owners have abandoned them, so they are ownerless.

So again, what he’s showing is the distinct approach of the Talmud, where you and I, Rabbi, might say, if it’s scattered, there’s no way that the person who lost it could identify it…. And therefore you can keep it…

The Talmud has to get into the mindset of the loser and go one step further, that the person who lost it knows that he can’t identify it.

Therefore he gives up hope.

Scattered coins.

So this instance of Nityayishu habalim, the owners have given up hope.

Yeush is a word that if I said it in modern Hebrew would mean despair.

It’s when you give up all hope.

It’s an emotion (a disposition).

And here we are saying that the criterion for giving up ownership is נתייאשו הבעלים , that the owner gives up hope or despairs of ever being able to reclaim it.

So we have two examples of something that by the modality of placement and configuration … the way it’s laid out, Mephuzar, he gives up hope.

AM: Which means, of course, if you drop something and it’s all scattered on the street, you figure, I’ll never get it back.

No one will ever pick it up and give it back to me.

But if you lose a wallet and everything’s in the wallet and your credit cards are in the wallet, then you think you have a chance to get it back.

GS:  Or sometimes you and I are on a hike and all of a sudden we see these beautiful stones that people have really intentionally put together.

That’s going to be different than a pile of stones that no one ever touched.

So I think it has to do with also the way it’s laid out (and intentionality).

But I have to say, Rabbi, that I was infatuated from the get-go that we were using such an emotionally charged word as despair as yeush when it comes to ownership.

And the second word that really attracted my attention and raised my antennae was twice we have something that is mefuzar.

And because it is scattered, it is mefuzar, we give up hope.

And I couldn’t but think of how whenever the Jewish people are referred to as mefuzar, like in Megillat Esther, where Haman says there’s a certain people scattered and dispersed, mefuzar and mefouad, we could be tempted to give up hope.

Maybe I’m stretching it and I’m going a little bit off.

AM: Rabbi Riskin would be proud because that’s a nice Torah.

That’s exactly what Rabbi Riskin would say, right?

Whenever you see the word mefuzar, it means give up hope.

And that’s what Haman says.

He says, יֶשְׁנ֣וֹ עַם־אֶחָ֗ד מְפֻזָּ֤ר וּמְפֹרָד֙ בֵּ֣ין הָֽעַמִּ֔ים בְּכֹ֖ל מְדִינ֣וֹת מַלְכוּתֶ֑ךָ, they should give up hope.

They’ll never be redeemed because they’re scattered.

See also:

 שֶׂ֧ה פְזוּרָ֛ה יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל אֲרָי֣וֹת הִדִּ֑יחוּ הָרִאשׁ֤וֹן אֲכָלוֹ֙ מֶ֣לֶךְ אַשּׁ֔וּר וְזֶ֤ה הָאַֽחֲרוֹן֙ עִצְּמ֔וֹ נְבוּכַדְרֶאצַּ֖ר מֶ֥לֶךְ בָּבֶֽל׃ 

Israel is a scattered sheep; the lions have driven him away: first the king of Ashshur devoured him; and last this Nevukhadreżżar has broken his bones. Jeremiah 50: 17

AM: Absolutely.

And the connection between despair and being scattered comes across strong.

GS: And then the next thing is this roshut ha-rabim, בִּרְשׁוּת הָרַבִּים  this public square, which is such an important concept in so many areas of Jewish law, Shabbat and holidays especially.

But here the idea, Rashi says, if it’s in a public area, everybody tramples on it.

And if there had been an identifying mark, it would have surely been destroyed.

The same thing goes for the baker.

As I said before, Pillsbury, when it produces something and I lose my donuts, I know no one will be able to return it to me.

There’s no identifying mark.

So there are other things that the rabbis bring in that will help define whether one has to return it or not.

And they talk about that also.

The Talmud brings up, well, maybe if it’s Mefuzar, if it’s scattered, it’s too much trouble for the person who lost it to come back and gain it.

Or think of yourself in terms of the threshing floor.

You go ahead and you pick up all your wheat and then there’s a bunch left on the ground.

You might intentionally leave it behind.

So, that too, I think when something is scattered, the assumption is that either the owner knows that he can’t differentiate it is, or it clearly was of no value to the owner.

So, the rabbis bring in value and they bring in tircha (taking the trouble, exertion), which is how much people care about something is determined by how much they’re willing to invest their labor in.

AM: wonderful stuff.

Really, really good.

Fantastic.

Okay, good.

GS: So, if this is our first day in Yeshiva, and this is the first blat, the page of Talmud that we’re learning, in 21A, it says, okay, so all of these discussions about whether if it’s spread out, you leave it because you have no, it’s not worthwhile or not.

In these cases, what is the halacha?

Says the Talmud.

The Gomorrah concludes, all these dilemmas shall stand unresolved.

Lo mipakedlehu mai teku.  לָא מַפְקַר לְהוּ. מַאי? תֵּיקוּ

So if you are a sports fan in Israel and you know at the end of the, and I’m gonna misspeak here, the end of the second half, its score is two to two, they say that is teku.

That is a Talmudic term.

It’s a Talmudic term.

You can say it means tie, but basically it’s a stalemate, it’s a draw.

And again, Urban Legends has it, Tishbi Yitaretz, Kushiot, Bebayot, that Eliezer the prophet will come and solve these questions. תִּשְׁבִּי יְתָרֵץ קוּשְׁיוֹת וּבְעָיוֹת

But again, here we come in this beautiful introductory piece of Talmud, and we already learn that not everything gets resolved.

AM: Amazing.

That is interesting.

I mean, the whole…

Well, let’s just talk about it.

The idea of teku means that it’s, you say it’s a tie, meaning it’s unresolved.

The Urban Legend of Tishbi, Yitaretz, Kushiot, Bebayot, תִּשְׁבִּי יְתָרֵץ קוּשְׁיוֹת וּבְעָיוֹת which means Elijah will resolve it, means we don’t like to be in a position of unresolved.

So we want to resolve it.

So we can’t resolve it, but Elijah will come and resolve it.

So it even tells us something about us.

GS: I absolutely love that.

And again, it’s kind of similar to Anpuria, where we would like to think that we can retain these traditions for ourselves and that we have a different take on it.

But what my takeaway as a kid was, was that not everything can be resolved.

And if we live in a time and a period where we feel like despair sometimes and we are overwhelmed by what is happening in the world around us, I think this is a little lesson that we need to take with us too, that things don’t always get resolved.

And certainly people who are pushing for solutions all the time would do themselves a favor if they understand, understood the concept of a take-o.

So here we found something else of value.

But now I want to get to the crux of what I remember.

And I think the world remembers the world.

I’m talking like a Bachor Yeshiva.

I say, if everybody studies Elu Metziot.

But this is the main takeaway from our sugya (subject matter in the Talmud).

And that is in Babametzia 21b, it says, Ye’ush Shelo Midat. יֵאוּשׁ שֶׁלֹּא מִדַּעַת

What happens if someone despairs without knowing that they are despairing?

How is that for a profound question and a concept?

You know, it’s like, Rabbi, I say to you, you’re sad, but you don’t know it.

So Abaye says, lo have yeyish… לָא הָוֵי יֵאוּשׁ   It is not despair

If you are in a situation where for all conceivable reasons, you should be in despair, you should be saying, I no longer own the object, but maybe you don’t even know you lost it yet.

It’s not considered from a legal point of view a valid concern.

And Rava says, havei yiuish. הָוֵי יֵאוּשׁ

It is despair.

You have given up the rights to own it because as we’ll see, once you find out, you will give up your ownership rights.

So it’s kind of despair in potential.

But I am going to be truthful with you, Rabbi.

I cannot believe that Jewish literature and Jewish art and culture has not played with this concept of yiush shelo midaat, despair, even though you don’t know it.

A little later on in the source sheet, you’ll see a picture of the one novel that I found that was published and the name of it is Yiush M’daat.

And it’s a murder mystery that ends with somebody having to do something beyond the level of despair.

But I find it to be such an intriguing concept.

I can’t believe more people haven’t played with it.

AM: Yeah, I mean, you know, it seems to me that everybody who speaks Hebrew knows the phrase יֵאוּשׁ שֶׁלֹּא מִדַּעַת.

That’s just what it feels to me like.

They may not know where it comes from, but they know the phrase.

But again, it’s not part of the nomenclature.

People don’t use it on a regular basis.

No, I don’t think people use it.

GS: No, I don’t think that’s it.

AM: It’s something people know.

Somewhere they came in contact with it.

But it’s not one of those idioms.

It’s not used idiomatically in Israel.

I think that’s right.

GS: So there is a wonderful, I guess, series in Tablet Magazine where Adam Kirsch, who’s a novelist, a literary person.

He did Daf Yomi (8 year cycle of studying a page of Talmud every day) and he studied every piece of Talmud, and he wrote about it.

When he got to this, this is the way he characterizes the issue, and he’s doing it from a clinical perspective.

He says, “is this despair a subjective, psychological condition or is it an objective description of a person’s relationship to his lost possession?”

I think that’s a pretty good, I guess, representation of the argument between Abaye and Rava.

In Abaye’s case, it actually has to happen.

We need that person to know that he lost the object, know the circumstances, know that it was Mefuzar or know that it was in a public domain, and literally lose his spiritual (emotional) connection to the object.

And in Rava’s case, we need a circumstance where if he would know it, he would give it up hope.

It really defines the circumstance more.

“For Rava, despair can be assumed on logical grounds, but for Abaye, it must actually be experienced in order to apply.”

So these are legal discussions.

But again, I would interject that despair, if we want to take it in its broadest meaning.

Like PTSD, like other psychological situations, there are two modes.

One is where you know you have it.

You know you’re a manic depressive, and others where you don’t.

It’s so, I think, pregnant with meaning about a discussion , understanding who we are, and whether we are who we are, if we are unconscious of it or not.

I think it’s just fascinating, and again, I don’t believe that even (Israeli/Hebrew Speaking) psychologists haven’t picked it up.

AM: I mean, this is a psychology issue.

GS: And you know, when you should be in despair, and you’re not, there’s a word for that.

It’s called denial.

And so, the fascinating thing is that because the rabbis are truly discussing this in a very clinical way, you would think that they wouldn’t get into any of these minutia.

So, in in Bab Mitzvah 23a, Rav Zvid said in the name of Rava, that this is the principle of a lost item.

Once the owner of a lost item says, Woe is to me for the monetary loss, this indicates that he has despaired of it. ״וַוי לֵהּ לְחֶסְרוֹן כִּיס״

And they talk also about a situation where somebody in Bab Mitzvah 24b isn’t the owner justifiably standing and screaming that the purse belongs to him?

What happens if your object gets washed out to sea and you will not give up hope?

You are, in Abaye’s words, you know the facts now, you still won’t give up hope.

And it says, he becomes as one who screams at no avail about his house that collapsed or about his ship that sank in sea, that he cries out for the house that fell and for the ship that sank in sea.

כְּצוֹוֵחַ עַל בֵּיתוֹ שֶׁנָּפַל וְעַל סְפִינָתוֹ שֶׁטָּבְעָה בַּיָּם

We have literally instances that the rabbis dig into of people who are in denial, of people who then learn the facts and still won’t admit to it.

So I do think that this is fascinating, that the rabbis are talking about monetary issues, they’re talking about ownership of material goods, but they’re getting into the psychology of yiush, of despair, and they therefore play with concepts of where one is knowingly encountering an emotion, and when one is unknowingly having an emotional state, or when one knows that he has this state but is not willing to admit it.

Just to me, just so fascinating.

AM: Yeah, that is so interesting, right?

You say the other options.

I mean, you’re just making the point that yiush really is something that people think about or people address, right?

I mean, it’s part of the way Jews think about things.

Actually, I think the most interesting thing you said today was the fact that teku means a tie in Israeli sports!

So you see that, you started by saying how Gemara, we all got it in our youth.

But you see that some of these things just kind of latched on because obviously, teku and a tie in sports have nothing to do with one another, but still.

GS: So I love the fact that you said that because I think what the takeaway from this is, is whether we look at Jewish despair on a legal aspect or whether we’re looking at it on a much more broader literary psychological aspect, we are not going to resolve anything and I think the rabbis of the Talmud are clear they’re not going to resolve anything.

The only thing that they introduced that we have to keep and that has stayed with me all these years is the issues that we have to understand.

There is an issue of context.

Is it in a public domain or private?

Is there an issue of configuration?

Is it consciously put in place or is it found art?

Is it spread out?

These are all things that have to do with the observant eyes of the rabbi.

But there’s also this language thing that I love so much.

If you noticed a second ago when I talked about what constitutes real despair and what I said was, it was the owner saying, Woe to me that I have lost this object.

The word that is used there is the source, I will argue, of oy vey.

If you look at a Jastro on Baba Metsiah 23a, Rav Zvid says, Klaal de avedatah, Kevon de amar, voy lechasoron kis, woe is to me for the monetary loss. כְּלָלָא דַּאֲבֵידְתָּא כֵּיוָן דְּאָמַר ״וַוי לֵהּ לְחֶסְרוֹן כִּיס״ – מִיָּאַשׁ לֵיהּ מִינַּהּ

If you look at the Jastrow Dictionary, he talks about the word woe, oy.

וַי, וַוי, וַה׳ m. h. a. ch. 1) woe; (interj.) oh! woe!

“Thirteen times do we read vey in the chapter about wine.”

I would argue that “vey” , וַוי is the source of the uniquely Jewish expression (and disposition) of Oy Vey.  Confronting disaster….

So, here we are discovering things that are profoundly related to who we are as a people.

There’s another area that it says, if you have food in a public space, even though because it’s in a public space, you can assume the owner is going to give up hope because people trample on objects found in a public space, food is different…

They said people don’t step on food.

Ein ma’avirin al ha’ochel.   דְּאֵין מַעֲבִירִין עַל הָאוֹכָלִין

But the rabbis ask, well, what happens if you live in a mixed city?

So now already we realize, this is the Talmud that was written after the exile from the temple was destroyed.

We’re no longer living only amongst ourselves.

So you have these kinds of questions.

And they say that non-Jews don’t work on food either because they’re superstitious.

So, again, you have the rabbis understanding their situation (and sociologically and anthropologically understanding the customs, habits and beliefs) , of other people that they interact with.

It becomes amazing.

But even that Jews ain ma’avirin al ha’ochel, דְּאֵין מַעֲבִירִין עַל הָאוֹכָלִין  that Jews do not pass by food, there is a Talmud that explains that this we learn from some of the great sages.

בְּאוֹתָהּ שָׁעָה לָמַדְנוּ שֶׁכִּוֵּון רַבָּן גַּמְלִיאֵל בְּרוּחַ הַקּוֹדֶשׁ. וּשְׁלֹשָׁה דְּבָרִים לָמַדְנוּ בְּאוֹתָהּ שָׁעָה: לָמַדְנוּ שֶׁאֵין מַעֲבִירִין עַל הָאוֹכָלִין.

And at that time we also learned three matters of halakha from Rabban Gamliel’s behavior: We learned that one may not pass by food, i.e., if a person sees food lying on the ground, he must stop and pick it up. Erivin 64b

And I will argue, Rabbi, that when your grandmother saw food on your plate and she goes, we Jews don’t waste food, it came back to this very basic feeling amongst the Jewish people, that there’s something special about food, food does not go to waste.

AM: Yeah, well, I mean, that is something that Jewish mothers and grandmothers have definitely incorporated into their lives, that’s for sure.

GS: So, we’ve been in this for half an hour.

My sense is, this should be a tease, a taste of what lies in the Talmud.

But ultimately, what I take away from all of this is that we don’t live in a vacuum, and that when you find a lost object, it’s not only what’s in your mind, it’s what’s in the mind of the person who lost it.

AM: That’s right.

GS: It’s the behavior of the society that you live in.

We are all interconnected.

And our laws are all interconnected.

Our language is all interconnected.

And we have a very long shared history.

The one thing that I didn’t mention, because we didn’t have time to go into Abaye and Rava’s past, was Abaye came from a dirt poor background.

And there’s a piece of Talmud who said, and my grandmother, I can tell you, said the same thing.

She grew up on the Lower East side.

And that was, I grew up poor, but I didn’t know it.

And that, I think, becomes then the absolute identifier of what it is to have an emotion that maybe one doesn’t know one has.

אָמַר אַבָּיֵי, הַיְינוּ דְּאָמְרִי אִינָשֵׁי: כָּפֵין עַנְיָא וְלָא יָדַע.

Abaye said: This explains the folk saying that people say: The poor man is hungry and does not know it, as Abaye was unaware how hungry he had been in his master’s house. Megilah 7b

I think this throws absolutely new light and perspective in being desperate on not knowing it…..

AM: That’s a great way to end.

Wow, that’s fantastic.

Let’s leave it right at that.

So have a Shabbat Shalom, everybody.

GS: Everybody enjoy.

We’ll see you next time.

Be well.

We’ll see you all next week.

Shabbat Shalom.

Bye bye.