Pesachim 21a, b

The beginning of daf 21 is part of Perek I.  The rabbis consider whether or not it is reasonable to assume that the baraita was recorded incorrectly.  It would be logical that the baraita reversed the names of the rabbis in question; however, what does it mean if we give ourselves the choice of whether or not to change a baraita?  We continue to struggle with these issues today, particularly with reference to Torah critique.  As a feminist, I continually reinterpret meaning, assuming that "they must have meant x, not y".  Although this luxury allows me entrance into the texts, am I fundamentally changing the meanings when I reinterpret?  Does that matter?

And, as well, today we begin Perek II.  A new mishna tells us about what we can do with leaven: can we feed it to our pets or to our livestock?  can we burn it? can we sell it to gentiles?  can we light an flame with it?  can we crumble it and throw it into the sea?  

The rabbis discuss and debate each point.  Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel argue their points as expected, where Beit Shammai tend toward stringency regarding selling leaven to a gentile and Beit Hillel lean toward leniency.  The rabbis mention the bread (or hard kernels of wheat) used in betrothal, noting that the betrothal would not be affected because an item of value must be exchanged.  As the leaven cannot provide any benefit to its owner at this point in time (just as leaven is removed), it cannot be a symbol of betrothal.

We are then exposed to an examination of 'providing benefit', isoor hana'ah.  What does it mean that leaven cannot provide benefit?  In Exodus 13:3, we are reminded that G-d tells us "Leavened bread shall not be eaten", lo yeachel chametz.  That passive voice tells the rabbis that there should be no consumption of leaven at all.  'At all' would include the exchange of coins or food for leaven, which might provide some benefit to the seller.  The rabbis argue that if an active voice had been used in 13:3: "You shall not eat leaven", the halacha would include only eating leaven.  Benefitting otherwise from leaven would have been allowed.

Finally, the rabbis tell us that we should sell our leaven to gentiles, but first we should offer the leaven as a gift to resident aliens.  Why would we make this distinction?  Resident aliens are community members who are not Jewish.  What makes them so different from other gentiles?  

We are reminded that we are obligated to care for the resident aliens among us, but we are not commanded to care for gentiles outside of our community.  That is why we should give our leaven to resident aliens: they should benefit from our food without paying for that benefit. 

Obviously this last point opens a door to many, many questions.  Those questions regard the religious- and socioeconomic-based structures of societies in antiquity.  How much was Judaism a construction of closed, cloistered religious communities at that time?  And how much did Judaism contribute to that exclusionary template?  The idea of 'caring for the stranger among us' sounds lovely, and is critically important in our own times.  However, what was its meaning in the time of the Talmud?  Was it a progressive concept or a token kindness?  And does that concept excuse us from building trusting relationships with 'the other' who lives outside of our communities?  More thinking on this topic could be useful in our neighbourhood conversations and in our most static political blocks.