March 29, 2012 | 3:15 pm

Accidental Talmudist: Day 438 - Be da Mensch!

Posted by Salvador Litvak

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My friend, David Lewis, shared a teaching with me years ago, in the name of the great near-Yid, Bruce Springsteen:

A time comes when you need to stop waiting for the man you want to become and start being the man you want to be.

I have probably repeated those words to myself a thousand times. Rav Bruce is talking about positive transformation; the kind that takes daily, if not hourly, work. My version of that saying is “be da mensch,” and if you ever see those words on a CA license plate, please give a friendly honk, because you’re looking at the Accidental Talmudist.

I hesitated for years to get a personalized plate. There’s value in anonymity - you make a clean getaway - but in the end, I wanted to share a message that’s meant so much to me. And I’m happy to report that the plate has sparked enough knowing chuckles among passersby to justify the extra 30 bucks a year.

I believe it was the same impulse that led to this blog. I stumbled into Talmud thanks to a little miracle (if you’re just joining us, click here for the story); and as the seven-and-a-half year cycle of Daf Yomi approaches completion (the Siyum happens this August), I want to get the word out to folks like me, who may have heard of the Talmud, but never imagined they’d actually read it.

You can read it. And it will change your life. It has certainly changed mine.

The neat thing is, you already know some Talmud, and we’re all about to read that bit next week in the Passover Haggadah. Several key passages are taken directly from the Mishnah, i.e. the first written version of the Oral Law, compiled around 200 CE. The Oral Traditions of the Mishnah were substantially expanded by those of the Gemara around 500 CE and together these Rabbinic discussions, legends, arguments, and expositions comprise the Talmud.

Now, the problem with the Haggadah is that the taste of Talmud it offers the average, non-Yeshiva-educated Jew, or friend of the Jews, is not always exciting. Here comes the Accidental Talmudist, however, to show you how exciting it can be.

The trick to understanding the Seder is that it’s meant to be a Talmudic discussion, and the Haggadah is in fact a study guide for a vibrant Q&A.

And even two Torah scholars who are proficient in the laws of Passover must ask one another. (Pesachim 116a, Daf Yomi Day 438)

The famous Four Questions (Why is this night different from all other nights, etc.) have become a cute recitation we teach our kids to perform at the Seder. The Talmud, however, actually says:

...here the son asks his father. And if the son lacks understanding, his father teaches him to ask. (Ibid.)

The Four Questions are

examples

of questions. The commandment is to have a Q&A about Israel’s journey from “disgrace to glory”, not to ask these particular questions. Of course, what has happened is that the dry recitation has replaced dynamic discussion in most Jewish homes - which is exactly why G-D commanded that the Oral Law remain oral. The Mishnah was written down 1500 years later because the Sages feared they’d all be murdered by Rome, and our precious tradition would be lost. Perhaps they should not have worried - Rome vanished, like every other “power” that persecuted our little tribe over the last 3500 years - but Sages’ fear was understandable.

Still, we must understand that the written form of the Oral Law was never meant to replace the oral tradition. We learn from our elders, our teachers and each other by asking questions and searching for answers

together

. A good discussion is one in which all parties learn something none knew before.

The Haggadah, just like the rest of the Talmud, is a photograph of a fountain (Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz). It models a good, Torah-based discussion, so we can start our own. Once we do, the waters of Torah will flow down from G-D, through our ancestors, to us. But we must open our mouths to drink from that fountain.

So, how do you get that conversation going at Seder, and how will that help you be da mensch you’ve always wanted to be? Creative solutions abound, but here are a few we’ve used at our Seder table:

1. Think of a negative behavior you’d like to shed. In the past you may have made a New Year’s resolution to outgrow a habit, and failed. Why? Because a mere intention, coupled with a night of drinking champagne is guaranteed to fail. Instead, start thinking about that habit a few weeks before the festival on which you want to draw a line in the sand. Like right now. Then, when you show up at Passover, you write down your habit - no need to share with the others if you’d rather be private about it - and burn the paper before the Seder starts. That habit is your Pharaoh; it has enslaved you for years, and you’re about to be redeemed. This night will be your personal Exodus.

2. As you read the Haggadah, every time you hear “Pharaoh,” think of the habit which enslaves you. Have you been able to free yourself by your own efforts? No. How will you get free in the future? With G-D’s help. G-D wants you to be a better human being - the Holy One wants you to be a mensch. That’s why you were invented. To repair yourself, and repair this broken world, and do what only the humans can do. Will it be easy? Absolutely not.

The Israelites left Egypt on the wings of eagles, with miracles, signs and wonders. A few weeks later, they were whining about water and meat, and worshipping a golden calf. Good grief! Can you blame G-D for going “Old Testament” on them? But the Holy One still loves those wayward children, and bestows upon them the greatest gift ever given to mankind - the Torah, both Written and Oral.

So, even though you will slip and slide on the path to overcoming your bad habit, you will eventually reach the promised land if you adopt a daily practice that reminds you of

G-D’s faith in you

. You can start with one minute - one minute a day of asking G-D how you can do better. Eventually, you might join a community of G-D oriented people and grow with them, but in the beginning you can even do it alone.

If his son is not intelligent enough to ask, his wife asks him, and if there is no wife, he asks himself. (Ibid.)

You’ve got to get used to asking questions, even of yourself. Schedule one minute a day to ask yourself how it’s going in your project to escape from your Pharaoh. By merely asking, you will receive answers on how to do better, and having become aware of the areas for improvement, you will in fact do better. After a while, you’ll even find it’s fun, and profound, and you may want to set aside a little more time every day for questions and answers.

And then, just maybe, you’ll want to give Daf Yomi a try.

May you have an exciting, meaningful Passover, that moves you one step closer to being da mensch you’ve always wanted to be. Chag sameach!

(If you’d like to attend a Seder, but don’t have one, just google “find a seder” and you will easily find a seat among people who will thank you for coming. Happy Passover!)

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Salvador Litvak wrote and directed the Passover comedy and cult hit “When Do We Eat?” His current film, “Saving Lincoln”, explores Abraham Lincoln’s conflicted tenure as commander-in-chief through the eyes of his dear friend and bodyguard, Ward Hill Lamon.

March 23, 2012 | 10:48 am

Accidental Talmudist: Day 1574 - Don’t Eye the Merchandise

Posted by Salvador Litvak

My son’s 7th birthday is coming up and he wants a punching bag so he can practice tae kwon do at home. I studied the art myself for years, so I know what he needs, and it’s not an inflatable, wobbling piece of dreck that ends up punctured in a week. He’s got a solid roundhouse. He needs a good bag, with a heavy base, that will survive thousands of punches and kicks.

The problem is we don’t have a spot for a bag like that inside our house, and the elements will eventually ruin a bag if you leave it outside. I did lots of online research, but I couldn’t find the right solution. So I did something I hardly ever do anymore: I went to the store.

Good thing. By seeing the bag in person, and talking with an expert, I learned we can keep a good bag outside because the punching part comes off the base quite easily, and can thus be stored inside. Having done the research, however, I also realized the bag in the store was overpriced. I could therefore simply go home, one-click on Amazon, have the right bag delivered free of charge (love that Amazon Prime) and save a fistfull of dollars. But there’s a big problem:

One should not say to someone, “How much is this item,” if he does not want to buy. (Bava Metzia 58b)

I first heard this teaching from Rabbi Mordecai Finley, who explained, “If even this kind of speech is prohibited, how much more must we avoid words that destroy peace in the home.”

It is absolutely prohibited to cause anguish through speech. In fact, the Sages teach that anyone who “makes his friend’s face turn white in public, it is as if he has spilled blood,” i.e. murdered his friend. (Ibid.)

The Sages derive this prohibition from the Torah’s monetary laws in Leviticus 25, where the words “man shall not wrong his fellow” are mentioned twice: once to ban deceit in business, and again to prevent every other form of harmful speech. Examples range from reminding people of past wrongs, to branding them with mocking nicknames.

The ban on humiliation is readily understood because damage to a reputation cannot be undone. But why is it so wrong to inquire about the price of an object when you do not intend to buy? After all, Mama said, “You better shop around.”

R’ Yehuda says a person should not even eye merchandise when he does not have money. (Bava Metzia 58b)

Catch that? It is harmful speech to imply that you’re interested in merchandise, even if you don’t say a word! Rashbam explains that you will thereby harm the vendor by causing others to believe you are buying the item, thus causing real buyers to look elsewhere. (Pesachim 112b, Daf Yomi Day 434)

Ben Yehoyada says the vendor will be harmed because others will see you looking without buying, and assume the merchandise is tainted or overpriced. (Ibid)

Most interesting of all, however, is Rabbeinu Chananel’s teaching: since you will not buy the item in the end, you will come to diminish its value in the eyes of the vendor. (Ibid.)

Now this is very strange. Surely the vendor knows what the item is worth. Does it really confuse him that I look at his merchandise without buying? Doesn’t he desire that I look today, even if I don’t buy, for perhaps I will buy tomorrow?

What is going on here? I received a clue when my wife reminded me of a teaching by Rabbi Reuven Wolf regarding Amalek, the little tribe that attacked the Jewish people right after G-d delivered us from the superpower, Egypt. At that moment, the whole world knew G-d was with us, but Amalek didn’t care. Amalek knew he would be wiped out for attacking us, but he just didn’t care. Why? Because Amalek is all about self-destruction, and Amalek is most engaged when holiness is close at hand.

Rabbi Wolf explains that Amalek means “nation of slaughter” - the kind of slaughter in which the head is detached from the torso, i.e. the brain is cut off from the heart. Amalek is an inner voice that interrupts our wise-hearted flow, and ruins everything good. It tells us we are inadequate, generates doubt, and leads to passivity, anger or worse, when the opposite is most needed.

Think of a time when you were inspired to go out, or go in, and do something new and good. At such a moment you’re in a beautiful, but vulnerable space. Your resolution can waver. The new enthusiasm can easily die. What you need at that moment is support. A pat on the back can work a wonder. What will kill the momentum every time, however, is a snicker.

Somebody dismisses your new venture with a smug little laugh, and suddenly you doubt its value. That person’s Amalek engages your Amalek, and then your new business idea, your new diet, your new mitzvah doesn’t seem so worthy in your eyes, and the bag is punctured. Worse, the mocker doesn’t even have to snicker out loud. A mere glance can send the message, and your new venture suddenly seems like a waste of time.

I like to try new things. I’ve passed through that vulnerable beginner phase many times. I don’t even remember the endeavors that didn’t stick. But I put in years of work with Talmud, tae kwon do, screenwriting, directing, rowing, and more. And I’ve been most rewarded in those activities by helping others to engage in them. I love teaching, and I’ve had many students.

As a teacher, I’ve observed over and over again how easily a person can lose regard not only for a new endeavor, but even for the most precious merchandise of all: his or her self-confidence. To build that confidence by appreciating a person’s effort is a holy thing. To eyeball their endeavor and dismiss it is a sin. And that is why we must be so careful not to look like a buyer when we stand near someone’s precious stuff, if in fact we never had any intention to buy into it.

So, what did I do at the martial arts store? Well, I got off easy. The bag they had in stock was black and pink. My son hates pink (probably because his older sister loves pink). No way I’m giving him a pink punching bag for his birthday. But I did buy him the punching gloves at the store, as well a couple of kick pads so we could work out together. Those items were overpriced too, but at least I compensated the vendor for his valuable advice.

May we all support each other in our nascent endeavors, and may we merit to achieve some level of mastery in the fields we most enjoy. Shabbat Shalom!

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Salvador Litvak wrote and directed the Passover comedy and cult hit “When Do We Eat?” His current film, “Saving Lincoln”, explores Abraham Lincoln’s conflicted tenure as commander-in-chief through the eyes of his dear friend and bodyguard, Ward Hill Lamon.

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March 15, 2012 | 5:02 pm

Accidental Talmudist: Day 2,558 - A Teacher Like Mrs. Schreiber

Posted by Salvador Litvak

If I ask you to name a teacher who influenced you, does a name and a face come to mind?

We were recently asked to recall such teachers by a young rabbi at Temple Beth Am. Conversations buzzed instantly. The gentleman sitting next to me had a professor who said, “You’ll never be a writer.” Thirty years later, the gentleman was published in the Anthology of Outstanding American Writing, and couldn’t resist sending a copy to the professor. The gracious reply: “My dear boy, a teacher is never disappointed to be shown he underestimated a student.”

The session ended before I had a chance to share my own recollection. Had time permitted, I would’ve mentioned Mrs. Schreiber, my 6th grade teacher at New City Elementary. I was then a colossal geek: an immigrant kid without older siblings, my nearest cousin a thousand miles away, and no one to guide me in the ways of cool.  I was also too tall and too red-haired, I never had the right clothes and I couldn’t punt a football to save my life. The one thing I had going for me was smarts, but that was not a social benefit, and I compensated by talking too much. Trouble loomed.

Enter Mrs. Schreiber. New City Elementary did not have an enrichment program, but she decided I needed one, so she created it. She purchased a 9th grade algebra book, drafted a course of study, and challenged me. More importantly, when I felt I was racing ahead of my classmates, and could thus be excused for blowing off some homework, she chose just the right words to check my ego and keep me focused. Mrs. Schreiber did a ton of extra, unpaid work because she believed in me, and that investment led me to believe in myself. I did not become cool, but I did stay out of trouble. Mostly.

I mention all this here because the Talmud, which is basically written by teachers, holds teachers to a very high standard of conduct. I believe Mrs. Schreiber liked me, perhaps even loved me as she loved all her students, but she went the extra mile because it was the right thing to do.

Those who write down the laws of the Oral Torah are like one who burns the Torah. (Temurah 14b)

What?! The Talmud is mostly a written record of the Oral Torah! What is going on here?

The Oral Torah is a collection of laws and interpretations that were transmitted to Moses at Mount Sinai and passed down orally through the generations. Commentators have suggested that the Oral Torah should not be written down because it could catch fire on Shabbat, and we would are not permitted to break the Sabbath laws in order to rescue such writings as we would a Torah Scroll. (Ibid.)

Rashi says the writing of such laws is not literally like burning a Torah Scroll, but rather that the essence of the Oral Torah is its oral transmission, and it is thus forbidden to engage in an activity that will undermine that process. (Shabbos 6b)

Likewise, Ritva says such writing leads to misinterpretation because the give-and-take of a teacher/student relationship is essential to the comprehension of Oral Torah - if a student reads the writing alone he will inevitably misunderstand the true nature of his studies. (Gittin 60b)

Eventually, of course, the Oral Torah had to be written down, because the alternative was worse: if the Sages did not transcribe their tradition after the desctruction of Jerusalem, that tradition would be lost. This is the very limited meaning of the verse:

When it is a time to act for G-d, nullify your Torah. (Temurah 14b)

It is still required, however, to learn with a teacher if a teacher is available. Indeed, two pages later in Tractate Temurah we encounter a wonderful example of the Oral Torah’s role in illuminating the written word.

The poor man and the oppressor meet together; the LORD gives light to the eyes of both. (ESV, Proverbs 29:13)

“Oppressor” is a common translation of the Hebrew “techachim.” The proverb thus suggests that the oppressor derives his sustenance from the same Source as the oppressed, and he will eventually get his comeuppance. The Oral Tradition, however, interprets “techachim,” which literally means broken, as deriving from “toch” which means middle or average. Thus:

The poor man and the middle class man have met, G-d will enlighten the eyes of both. (Termurah 16a)

R’ Nassan explains: a student approaches a teacher of middling accomplishment and says, “Teach me Torah.” If the teacher teaches, G-d will enlighten the eyes of both. If the teacher does not teach, the student will become wise regardless, presumably by finding another teacher, and the teacher will eventually become a fool. (Ibid.)

Now we begin to understand why the Talmud is completely unlike any other book of law. It records contradictory opinions, illustrative anecdotes and mystical allegories because it is actually a study guide for teacher and student (or study-partners among whom the teacher/student roles oscillate.) You can start reading Talmud on your own, but eventually you will need a teacher, and a great teacher is a treasure.

Which brings me back to Mrs. Schreiber, who first kindled my love of learning. She not only encouraged me to ask questions, she demanded it. And I suspect she learned something from the process.

I have always believed a good conversation is one in which all participants learn something that none knew before. Perhaps that is why I became the Accidental Talmudist. I look forward to learning from you, my friends, and hearing about your favorite teachers at facebook.com/accidentaltalmudist

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Salvador Litvak wrote and directed the Passover comedy and cult hit “When Do We Eat?” His current film, “Saving Lincoln”, explores Abraham Lincoln’s conflicted tenure as commander-in-chief through the eyes of his dear friend and bodyguard, Ward Hill Lamon.

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March 9, 2012 | 11:00 am

Day 2543 - What is a Person Worth?

Posted by Salvador Litvak

We just finished Tractate Arachin, in which we studied the law of monetary vows made for the sake of the the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. Because the Temple was destroyed in 70 C.E., we are no longer able to fulfill these laws, but we do study them, and they can be perplexing.

All persons can declare an erech vow and be the subject of an erech vow; all can declare a vow for the worth of another and be the subject of a vow for their own worth.
- Arachin 2a, Day 2511

Though one is not required to make a donation to the Temple, he or she may elect to do so. If the person so elects, he or she may simply consecrate money or property to hekdesh, the Temple treasury. If, however, the person chooses to make a specific kind of pledge known as an erech vow, he or she becomes legally obligated to donate a specific amount to hekdesh.

The pledge is usually worded, “I undertake to give my erech,” or “I undertake to give my worth.” The actual amount the person has promised to give is the subject of some lively Talmudic debate. Broadly speaking, the person has either promised to give a fixed, statutory amount based on age and gender (Leviticus 27:1-8), or the person has promised to give the amount he or she would fetch if sold as a slave.

Both concepts are difficult. Putting a number on a person’s worth seems antithetical to all our views in the 21st century. And even if we can imagine living in ancient Jerusalem, it’s hard to understand how these laws would help a public institution. After all, we’re talking about voluntary offerings. If the wording of these pledges ends up leading to litigation, liens, perhaps even lashes, it just doesn’t seem like good PR for a non-profit.

Digging for a lesson in the erech laws, I concluded that charitable giving is a serious undertaking. You must do your research, and make good on your pledges. I learned a much deeper lesson, however, this past Saturday when I attended a siyum for Arachin.

A siyum is a celebration marking the completion of a tractate - when we complete the whole Talmud in August, B”H, there will be a huge siyum at Metlife Stadium (Giants Stadium to me). They expect 100,000 teachers, students, spouses, relatives, and friends.

Saturday’s siyum was held at Etz Chayim, the shul where I study with Rabbi Blau and the other half dozen members of our shiur. Perhaps 70 more members of the congregation were there for the festive meal which marks the end of every Sabbath with singing and great joy. We had left the last paragraph of Arachin unread the previous day so that Rabbi Blau could teach it now. Then we recited a sweet prayer of thanksgiving, and one of my colleagues, Dr. Baruch Twersky, came forward to share a few words.

Though the moment was jubilant, Baruch could not take full pleasure in it because Saturday also marked the yartzeit, or anniversary, of his son’s passing. Shaya Twersky died in a car accident nine years ago. Baruch feels the loss as keenly now as he did then, and yet he found the strength to prepare a teaching for us. He said Arachin is a difficult tractate, one of those volumes of Talmud whose lessons feel distant to our modern lives. When he realized, however, that Arachin’s completion and Shaya’s yartzeit would coincide, he found a connection.

Why did the Torah assign specific values to people, and highly specific laws for pledging the worth of those values? Because every person does indeed have a specific worth. How is it measured? By the work that person is able to perform in an allotted time.

How often we hear, “Time is money.” We must never waste either.

Shaya only lived for 20 years, but he filled them. He was quick to do chesed - loving kindness. He worked as a counselor for kids with serious illnesses. He composed a niggun - a wordless song that unites people with each other and with the Holy One, Blessed be He. Shaya loved G-d and did all he could with the brief time that was allotted to him. He gave his full erech.

We must do the same. When I embarked upon Daf Yomi, I did not think I had time for it, but I tried anyway. Right now, I am so deep in work that I don’t have time to write this blog. But I’m doing it anyway because Shaya inspired me via his father, Baruch.

None of us has enough time to do all we are called to do. Do it anyway. That is the greatest gift we can give G-d and each other. Yasher koach, Baruch.

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Salvador Litvak wrote and directed the Passover comedy and cult hit “When Do We Eat?” His current film, “Saving Lincoln”, explores Abraham Lincoln’s conflicted tenure as commander-in-chief through the eyes of his dear friend and bodyguard, Ward Hill Lamon.

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March 1, 2012 | 9:36 pm

Day 715 - Murder at a Purim Feast

Posted by Salvador Litvak

As Purim approaches, we encounter a Talmudic conundrum:

Rava said: One must become so intoxicated on Purim that he cannot distinguish between “Cursed is Haman” and “Blessed is Mordechai.” Rabbah and Rav Zeira celebrated the Purim feast together. They became intoxicated. Rabbah arose and slaughtered Rav Zeira. The next day, Rabbah prayed for mercy on Rav Zeira’s behalf and revived him. The following year, Rabbah said, “Let master come, and we will celebrate the Purim feast together.” Rav Zeira answered, “Not every time does a miracle occur.” Megillah (7b)

What is going on here? A holy Sage declares we must get whopping drunk on Purim. Another Sage obeys and gets so drunk that he slaughters a colleague, and yet the killer merits to have his resurrection prayer answered by G-d. Whoa. Let’s see what the commentators say.

Regarding Rava’s declaration, Rambam (the great rabbi/philosopher/doctor, Moses Maimonides) says one should simply drink more than usual - just enough so we fall asleep and thus can’t tell the difference between “Cursed is Haman, etc.”

Rav Ephraim says the story was included by the original editors of the Talmud in order to disprove Rava’s declaration that one must get drunk. But the Shulchan Aruch, (our modern and very Orthodox Code of Jewish Law) says, yes indeed - get drunk.

Of the story itself, Rambam’s son, R’ Avrohom says, this passage is an example of Talmudic hyperbole in a situation where the literal meaning is clearly impossible. Therefore, what really happened is that Rabbah struck R’ Zeira a serious blow on the neck, and the term “slaughter” is used because the neck is the location of ritual slaughter for kosher animals.

On the other hand, Maharsha says it was the intoxication itself which caused Rav Zeira’s near-death experience. Thus, after Rabbah plowed him with wine, he prayed that his friend would recover, and so he did.

But, according to the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Menachem Mendel Schneerson, we have not reached a proper interpretation until (1) we acknowledge that the simple meaning of the story is true (Rabbah and R’ Zeira got drunk and the former “slaughtered” the latter) and (2) our interpretation reveals an image of our Sages which befits their holy stature. Rebbe Schneerson accomplishes this task by comparing the Sages of our Purim story to Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Avihu, who entered the Holy Sanctuary while intoxicated (Vayikra Rabbah 12:1) and expired as a result. They too appear to have behaved inappropriately, yet Moses himself praises them (Leviticus 10:3).

OK, are we closer to understanding our conundrum, or even more confused? The answer can be found back on Day 283 of our Daf Yomi cycle at Eruvin 65a: “When wine enters, secrets come out.” These secrets are not your nasty college exploits but rather hidden meanings of Torah. If you drink the right amount and for the right reason, wine will help you uncover mystical secrets. Few people, however, have the capacity to drink just the right amount, and perhaps fewer still can maintain their holy intent once they’re nicely intoxicated.

Rabbah was able to use wine correctly because he had the right constitution and a mighty intellect. Rav Zeira preferred to plumb the depths of Torah in other ways. He gave Rabbah’s method a try one year and it nearly killed him. So the following year he politely declined.

May we all merit to find our own best ways to learn, and may we all occasionally step out of our comfort zones for the sake of Heaven.

Happy Purim!

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March 1, 2012 | 6:19 pm

Accidental Talmudist, Day One

Posted by Salvador Litvak

This week marks the seventh anniversary of an errand that changed my life.

On March 2, 2005, I went to The Mitzvah Store on Pico Boulevard in order to buy a book. I was in my seventh year of being a practicing Jew, and I had probably visited the shop a dozen times. After finding the needed book, I glanced over at the shelves of Talmud. Every set looked like three Encyclopedia Britannicas and, as usual, I was totally intimidated.

I’d heard of the Talmud, of course. I had a bar mitzvah in the late disco era. My mother is a survivor of Theresienstadt. And my father sent me to Hebrew school so this Judaism thing wouldn’t end with him. I think even most non-Jews have heard of the Talmud.

But to study it? That’s something rabbis and yeshiva boys do. Not that I was opposed to Jewish learning — after finding my own way back to Judaism, I studied with some of Los Angeles’ finest — Rabbis Mordecai Finley, Shlomo Schwartz, Mark Blazer, Jonathan Omer-Man, David Wolpe and David Seidenberg — and they all brought down words from the Talmud. But to actually read those books myself? Not with a family and a career. It was pretty clear to me that that boat had already sailed.

Still, as I looked over at those rows of tractates with strange names like “Bava Kama” and “Avodah Zara,” I thought, “What am I afraid of? They’re just books.” I was an English major in college. I read the whole Bible for a class. These volumes have English on their spines, and there must be a book one of the Talmud. I’ll just buy that and dip my toe in the sea. What could it hurt?

I walked over and picked up the nearest volume of something called the “Schottenstein Edition of Talmud Bavli — the Babylonian Talmud.” The table of contents told me that the first book is “Berachos 1.” I found a copy and took it over to the counter with my other purchases. The kid at the register wore a kippah. As he rang up “Berachos 1,” he remarked, “You’re doing Daf Yomi.”

I said, “What’s Daf Yomi?”

He looked at me strangely. “Well, Daf Yomi means page-of-the-day. It’s a program where Jews all over the world read the Talmud together, one page every day. It takes seven and a half years to do the cycle, and today ... is day one.”

“Really?” “Really.”

Fairly stunned, I walked out to the car. “Seven and a half years’ worth of pages,” I thought, as I perused the strange layout of “Berachos 1.” Aramaic, Hebrew and English; boldface here, all caps there, comments on comments, an ocean of footnotes.

“And today is day one. A 1-in-2,711 chance. OK, God, I get the message. I’m doing Daf Yomi.”

And that’s how my voyage began. It’s been called the world’s longest marathon. A page of Talmud equals four to 12 pages of English. It takes 20 to 50 minutes a day for seven and a half years. Every day, including Shabbat, Yom Kippur and even your wedding day, if that should occur during the cycle.

I also learned it’s considered a sin to study Talmud without a teacher. So I found a Daf Yomi class, or shiur, in my neighborhood, but every other word from the teacher’s mouth was in Hebrew. My colleagues all nodded along, but I was lost. I felt like I didn’t learn a thing, and I had to reread the page by myself later in the Schottenstein.

So much for the shiur, I thought. It might be a sin to read alone, but the editors of the Schottenstein did a phenomenal job. Their Talmud is not just a translation. They add explanatory language between every phrase, thus tripling the length of the text but essentially “teaching” it as a Daf Yomi teacher would.

Still, I felt guilty reading alone. It nagged at me for the next three years, until I finally tried another shiur. Miraculously, things had changed, or rather, I had changed. When I checked into Mechie Blau’s shiur at Congregation Etz Chaim on Highland Avenue, he also spoke every other word in Hebrew, but by then, I had absorbed enough Talmud logic and language that I could follow along. I was thrilled.

I have so much more to tell you about my journey, but that’s why I’m embarking on the Accidental Talmudist blog. Over the past seven years, I marked hundreds of profound tales, strange laws, ribald legends, ancient prescriptions, and I hope to transmit them all. The Talmud is roughly arranged by subject matter, but the Sages digress constantly, and when you embark upon a linear Daf Yomi voyage through their seas, you never know what the day’s page will bring. What you will always find, however, is a passionate quest for truth in every aspect of human experience. There is simply no matter too small or too large for the Sages — they eventually focus on everything. If God is in the details, this is the surest path to Him.

My hope is that someone will hear my story and try out Daf Yomi for himself or herself. The cycle renews this August, so now is the perfect time to investigate and prepare. You don’t need a 1-in-2,711 miracle to set sail on the seas of Talmud.

As Purim arrives this week, I will leave you with a tale from tractate Megillah (7b): Rava said: One must become so intoxicated on Purim that he cannot distinguish between “cursed is Haman” and “blessed is Mordecai.” Rabbah and R. Zeira celebrated the Purim feast together. They became intoxicated. Rabbah stood up and killed R. Zeira. The next day, Rabbah prayed for him and revived him. The following year, Rabbah said, “Come, let us celebrate the Purim feast together!” R. Zeira answered, “A miracle does not happen every day!”

Not every day, but perhaps today. To learn more about how, when and why Rabbah killed R. Zeira, check back here.

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Salvador Litvak wrote and directed the Passover comedy and cult hit “When Do We Eat?” His current film, “Saving Lincoln”, explores Abraham Lincoln’s conflicted tenure as commander-in-chief through the eyes of his dear friend and bodyguard, Ward Hill Lamon.

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