Pesachim 39a, b

Today we move solidly into familiar territory for me: what we are commanded to eat on Pesach.  We begin with a mishna that tells us which vegetables can represent the maror, the bitter herbs, that we are to eat.  Chazeret, romain lettuce, is followed by a number of other options.  We are then instructed that the food can be dry or fresh but it must not be pickled, boiled, or 'over-boiled' (blanched?).

The Gemara discusses these possibilities.  Maror seems to be understood as a category of food: those which are bitter (we are speaking about bitter herbs and not bitter herb, after all).  The rabbis debate whether or not the mishna is encouraging us to find the most bitter of bitter foods.   A number of different vegetables are considered in detail as the rabbis hope to find vegetables that will suit the role of 'bitter herbs' in different climates.  The rabbis concur that chazeret is listed first and thus it is our preferred option. 

Another reason is more poetic: chazeret is soft at first and bitter at the end (from the bottom to the top of the plant) just as we were 'embittered' by the Egyptians who were soft at first (settling us in the best land with Joseph) but then became bitter with our enslavement. 

One interesting interchange describes Abaye answering Rav Rechumi's questions about bitter herbs: Why a vegetable and not a fish? Why a vegetable and not an oleander bush?  Why not the vegetable harzipu (which poisons animals)?   The answers are interesting.  Apparently bitter herbs are similar to matzah, which originates in the ground, and thus the bitter herbs must grow from the ground.  Just as matzah comes from a type of plant but not a tree, so too the bitter herbs should come from plants and not the oleander bush. Just as matzah comes from plants fit for consumption; just as matzah can be purchased with second-tithe funds, so too must our bitter herbs meet these criteria.

The rabbis discuss similarities and differences among these vegetables.  They argue about whether or not the vegetables might be allowed to be planted together in a small (6 handbreadths squared) garden.  Perhaps they are, in fact, diverse kinds.  And then the rabbis debate about the leaves verses the stems, about 'dry' and 'fresh' and even 'withered' bitter herbs, and about the possible limitations on second-tithe produce.

At the end of the daf a new mishna is introduced.  As it opens our view of our ancestors' daily lives, this mishna is particularly interesting to me.  We are told that one may not soak coarse bran for feeding chickens but we may briefly pour boiling water over the bran.  Secondly, a woman may not bring coarse bran to the bathhouse, but she may use it to rub into her dry skin.  Third, a person may not chew wheat to attend to a wound on Pesach for fear that the wheat may leaven.

So we learn that people used boiling water to soften grains like bran to better their animals' feed.  We learn that coarse grains like bran were used to soften dry skin - both in the bathhouse, as a cleanser, and at the home on moistened but otherwise dry skin.  Finally, grains like wheat were used medicinally to treat wounds.  Wheat was first softened and moistened through chewing.  

Although the mishna was very clear about women's use of coarse bran, we are told by a note (Steinsaltz) that the rabbis proceed to disallow any softening of the skin in this way.  The Gemara moves us into a conversation about when and how to avoiding leavening.  It builds fences around the words of this mishna to best ensure that no grain can rise.

I can imagine that the rabbis might fear a person ingesting leavened wheat if that person is chewing the wheat.  It might be a stretch to call that wheat leavened, but their logic is reasonable.  But to use bran as a body wash or a skin softener?  Are they fearful that a woman might inadvertently (or purposefully) ingest the bran that has 'leavened' through its contact with water on her skin?  If a person wished to eat leaven, I imagine that she would be able to find less creative ways of achieving her goal.  And to accidentally eat this bran would be highly unlikely - and punishable as an inadvertent transgression.  So why the fence around this particular rule?  Why create halacha in opposition to the relative leniency of the mishna? Is this about sexism - a distrust of women's abilities to follow halacha when it comes to 'beauty' - or is it simple another example of building a fence?